Wheelchair Free
Flo up and about on her walker.
Brian has joined Peter in Evansville. He called me yesterday while struggling to find the parents’ house on Bellemeade. I was outside cutting the grass. I wouldÃve told him getting lost is part of the arrival ritual. I usually drive down route 41, past their street, then I get trapped in traffic where I’m forced onto the bridge over the muddy Ohio River. Once on the Kentucky side, IÃll wander in the swampy area behind the race track until some homeless guy guides me back to the right state. ThatÃs after IÃve traded a dollar for a swig of his Thunderbird. It might be a good thing Brian did not reach me.
Did I tell you Diane bought her new car with zero input from me? She researched it, had dealers bidding against one another, and sealed the deal without any help. Not that she needs help, I mean, she might have liked to have had help… .
A hundred pages into The Closers and not a glimpse of the killer.
By Flo’s smile do we discern a new affinity for The Hole? And can we presume she can move about free not just of a wheelchair but hopefully of acute pain as well?
Is Brian taking the baton from Peter, or will they overlap awhile?
Dan, you’ve achieved another astute pupil of The Art of The Deal!!! Bravo Diane — what is it, and how do you like it?
Comment by adam — May 23, 2005 @ 7:59 am
Am I the only one scratching my head at the idea that adult children cannot find the place their parents have lived for years and years and years?
Comment by Fierce Baby — May 23, 2005 @ 7:43 pm
No.
Comment by michael — May 23, 2005 @ 7:53 pm
I used to get lost every time I went to see my father & step mother in Huntington Beach, CA.
But now that I’ve had GT Amnesia, I never miss the turn off Beach Blvd. Must be the brain re-wiring.
Comment by rakkity — May 25, 2005 @ 6:25 pm
I get lost all the time and in many different ways. Work, for instance. Some (rare) days I clip right along with no mistakes, others, I find myself lost in confounding detours. I believe it is all related: wandering with winos on the Ohio River and enclosing walls without electrical outlets. Wiring indeed.
Comment by michael — May 26, 2005 @ 6:44 am