7/6/05
There's more to Independence Day.

My little red hippy got eggs benedict for breakfast. I feigned astonishment and muttered traitor under my breath when she ordered her food. raddidge laughed and said she didn't even realize the traitorous nature of eggs benedict especially on the most patriotic of days, Independence Day.

Dusk in raddidge's neck of the woods is a startling event to say the least. The end of day is usually a sedate affair appointed by a gorgeous sunset.
Once the horizon had turned a golden orange, a vicious wind started blowing from the mountains across the plains. These weren't the breezes that give their forlorn cry of long lost souls but a torrent which bends trees in supplication before their might. Even the noisy birds in the big scrub oak shut up and waited out the constant winds. Eventually the winds died down leaving a pale ghost of the day's blue sky overhead.
I wasn't feeling too well and walked off by myself to find someplace to sit and have alone time. Reckon I put my head and shoulders on some prickly southwest stuff because I had a vicious scab stuck in my hair along with tiny twigs. As I lay there looking up at the sky, I realized tht sky encompassed everything I saw. No eyelashes, no stalks of grass waving at the periphery of my vision, just blue sky.

Still later, raddidge and I stood out by her car looking over at the fireworks over Denver. Took me three times to get a good hold around her that was comfortable to both of us but it was a worthwhile endeavor. As we stood there, my chin against her left ear, watching the show, I thought "At a moment like this, there ought to be credits rolling over the scene." Plus I had the biggest sense of deja vu.

Anyone who has read heptapod.org for any length of time knows that I am a crude, coarse and vulgar man with a short temper and a taste for low brow humor and schaedenfreude. Unfortunately this doesn't fly too well at raddidge's homestead. One thing that I'm not good at is acting good, like I'm in church. Outside, I read something funny about a hateful man who wanted to live alone and was voted "Most Likely Not to Live, If We Have Anything to Say About It". When I read it aloud to raddidge who was grilling the meat things took a bad turn. Her mom heard, said raddidge could eat outside and I chose to eat outside too. Dinner tasted like ashes.

I took this as some passive-aggressive way of getting me out of the house and to "politely" convey "get the fuck out". raddidge explained later that this wasn't the case and any antagonism was being directed at her not me since I was the guest. The equation still doesn't add up in my head but I'll take raddidge's word.
Now I reckon I won't go up and visit unless it's just to pick up raddidge and we go somewhere then I drop her off back home or if I'm expressly invited to come up by her mom. I still feel like I'm not welcome and I don't impose myself anywhere that I'm not welcome in the first place.

At least raddidge and I are still going out west to camp in mid-August. That will be a nice, pleasant weekend.