It's interesting being in someone's home, trying to imagine what a person's like from the art on the wall, the knick-knacks scattered about, and the books on the shelf. It's an inexact science, and like most assumptions, it's fraught with the possibility of inaccuracy. Nonetheless, it's fun. Judy and Ginny left this morning for the monthly knitting group that Ginny belongs to. The ladies use repurposed yarn to knit hats, gloves, sweaters, scarfs, and whatever else for underprivileged kids in the area. Judy came back with a bunch of yarn and a sweater project. While they were gone, I did my workout routine and afterwards I plucked a book at random from our host's shelf. Judging by the six full book shelves, our host is quite a voracious reader. The book I selected is a novel called The Animal Way to Love by Sena Jeter Naslund, published in 1993. A line from the novel started me thinking. It read, "It's one of the fixed places in your life, isn't it?" asked Jane. The context is that another character, Trixie, searched and found a place of nothingness in which to take refuge after the death of a dear friend, maybe even a true love. The book seems to be about her search to fill the hole in her heart, which she attempts to do by sleeping with whoever she wants. I have a few fixed places in my life. Some are places searched for and found in nothingness. Others are fixed for reasons unknown, but I can return to those places just by bringing them to mind. They become fresh and real and breathe whatever emotion I was feeling into life as if I was actually there. I wonder why my mind captures and remembers such places out of the many experiences I've had while most memories and experiences fade. Most of the fixed places are places of pain, or places of lessons. Some are places of joy, such as hitting the game winning shot at the buzzer. The thrill of that memory never fades. But I digress. As I'm reading this novel, written in the intense staccato fashion of Salinger's Franny and Zooey, I find myself wondering what it says about the psyche of our host. Who knows? Back in the real world, Judy and I rode our bike this afternoon. The water runoff is still dangerous, but less than it was yesterday, although I heard on the news that the campers at Catalina State Park are stranded just like we were a few years back. On our ride, we came to a low spot in the trail. Thick mud oozed enough to make us wary of a crossing, and the water running over the road beyond confirmed our decision to turn around. Even when the water recedes to make the route passable, I'm afraid the mud will remain for some time. But not to worry, there are other routes, other days, and other adventures, which makes life good, especially today.
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