Newscoma

The inexpensive hotel room, which I have grown fond of these last two days, and I are fixing (I’m so Southern) to part ways. It was a fine relationship while it lasted. We just saw a crazy man yelling motherf**ker at the coffee pot at the Continental breakfast offered by the fine folks of this establishment. When his ranting began, and believe me, he was talking to the coffee machine as if it were a person, and waited for it’s responses. He then had another conversation with the Orange Juice dispenser.

It was when he started screaming at the jelly-filled Danishes I realized it was time to go as did everyone else in the breakfast nook. I slowly pushed my cheerios to the side and walked out very slowly. Squirrel Queen mentioned that she thought we were being Borated. I, on the other hand, wasn’t going to stick around to find out, and the look in his eyes was very unfocused. I don’t know what his gig was, but today, I just wanted to get away from it all.

Squirrel Queen is an organized person. As I was staring at the small, inadequate coffee pot in our room not hating the appliance but hating the fact there was no coffee in it’s tiny little carafe, she whirled over to her overnight back and brought out a packet of Maxwell House. As SQ doesn’t drink coffee, I must say that it was a lovely, thoughtful moment and to her, I’m forever grateful.

We are going on a journey this afternoon. And I’m looking forward to it. There is a story here of a long table, made from the trees that stood in Tennessee generations ago. It is story of women, of laughter and of rejuvenation of the spirit. It’s a tale of friendship made under odd circumstances of keyboards and hard drives. We will eat. We will drink. We will laugh, I have no doubt, because we can. Some of us have met. Others we have not but it is something we want to do. We feel as if we know each other in many respects. We do, and yet we don’t. And we seek to know more.

I am not organized. You don’t know the Queen of Squirrels like I do, and I sit here typing, she is organizing a bag consolidated of our things. In the background, Anaconda 2: The search for the Blood Orchid is on but we aren’t watching. I can’t get the closed captioning off, which has made it a bit surreal. She is tidying. Asking if I have what I need.

I just smile.

Because I know whatever she does will be more than fine on this beautiful April morning.

And we look into the horizon squinting into the bright sun.

And, my friends, it is warm and friendly and of the good.