The Texan Who Relocated To Colorado But Still Misses Home

 

   Cannot decide which is funnier, the steer horns mounted on the hood or the placard hanging from the rearview mirror.

   I suppose it doesn't matter, because whoever is driving this car is definitely winning.

The Unwelcome Confession

   Carter sat on the bench in an awkward slouch, his physical misalignment quite in line with his current emotional state.

   In short, not good.

   For perhaps the 25th or 26th time that evening he recounted to himself exactly what had transpired between him and Yolie the day before, and for the 25th or 26th time that evening he found himself unable to accept that last thing she had told him.

   They had met a scant 8 weeks ago while standing in line to see the latest and greatest iteration of a reformed '90's band. She had liked his shirt and he replied that he like hers.

   That's all it took to spark a mutual attraction that led to an exchange of phone numbers and 14 dates over the past two months.

   Date 15 was yesterday. That date was far more intimate than any of the previous 14 - far more intimate than the long, lingering kisses and full body caresses that had evolved from the awkward hug goodnight of the first date.

   The conversation afterward was as far more intimate as the physical intimacy had been. Far more intimate and far more revealing.

   It was during that intimate conversation, when both of them were sharing details about past relationships, that Yolie stated rather flatly that she had only ever been involved in what could be regarded as an affair once, and it was over 25 years ago when she was still in high school, and she wasn't the married one, so really, it shouldn't even matter.

   Her stating that she was in high school when it happened, and that she wasn't married but he was, both made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end and piqued his curiosity.

   So he asked a question that, once it escaped his lips, he knew he shouldn't of.

   He asked, "You were in high school and he was a married man? How did that happen?"

   And she told him how it happened, in the same flat manner that she had casually mentioned it.

   She was 15. He was her 35-year-old tennis coach. She had a crush on him that drove her crazy. She flirted with him incessantly when they were alone together. She said she knew he was playing coy when he told her several times that what she was doing was inappropriate, and she was certain he wanted her as much as she wanted him. 

   So she persisted, wearing tight polo shirts with all three buttons undone to expose her ample cleavage, and the shortest tennis skirt she could get away with. She smiled seductively and licked her lips as she bent forward toward him when he was feeding tennis balls into the hopper of the ball launcher, and made it a point to always bend over to pick up a tennis ball or two with her back to him.

  She stated that she did everything she could for at least two months to get him to make a move for her before deciding to take a step that she now "somewhat, sort of" regretted. 

   With a chilling tone Yolie said she told her married tennis coach that if he did not start responding to her as she wanted him to, she would tell his wife that he had. 

   That, she said, was when he came around to her way of thinking and they started a very passionate affair that lasted for almost a year, until he and his family moved when he took a job in Florida.

   She had been tempted to follow him to Florida, but changed her mind once she met her first serious boyfriend at the fast food restaurant where they both worked.

   Carter then asked the second question of the night that once he asked it he knew he shouldn't have.

   He asked, "Do you ever think about how much danger you put him in - he could have gone to jail for that, you know, and no doubt would have lost his wife and family."

   Yolie had laughed a little when Carter asked that question, and her curt reply of  "Oh come on, we just were having a little fun and nobody got hurt, don't go all prudish on me now!" had turned his stomach.

   That was the point when Carter got up out of the bed they were sharing and started to get dressed. She asked where he was going and he told her he had to leave and do some thinking. He finished dressing as she sat upright on the bed staring at him, and he walked down the hall and out the door without another word.

   Carter straightened out a little on the bench, his left leg having developed a little numbness. He drummed the fingers of his left hand on his knee. 

   He knew there was no way he could accept her cavalier attitude about the affair, it just wasn't possible. She confessed to seducing a married man 20 years her senior when she was in high school, a man who, as her high school tennis coach, would have legally been regarded as being in a position of trust and would therefore have been criminally liable for abusing that position.

   Criminally liable, which in this state and at that time would have meant he would have gone to jail for a minimum of 5 years, and would have had a lifetime afterwards of having to register as a known sex offender.

   And she only "somewhat, sort of" regretted how she went about it.

  

   

Anchorage In February, 1990

The sun began to crack the horizon a little earlier each day

By the end of the month there would be almost six full hours of daylight

Not enough to melt the parking lot glaciers

But in the afternoons the sun dogs would start dancing

Anchorage in February, 1990

The Coolest Thing(s) I Saw Today

   Right off I-25 southbound at the Cimarron (Colorado 24 westbound) exit...well, about two blocks up Colorado 24 westbound, on your right.

Buffalo Roaming

 

                                             Lou Wille's sculpture in Grand Junction, Colorado

Sometimes You Just Have To Force Yourself To Do Something, Anything

   If there is one thing my experiences with myriad other creative souls has taught me, it is that there is very little that creative souls agree upon. 

   There is an amazing amount of disagreement about what is and what is not  "creativity", and what is really an art form, or what is truly an artistic endeavour.

   One creative's art is often another creative's unaesthetic garbage.

   However, there's is one little thing that I have found that every single creative I have ever met has agreed upon, and that is:

   When you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it, and the best way out of that miasma is to just work it out.

Subaru Cleared For Take Off

 

   Is there anything worse than driving along a highway doing 75 mph and being anywhere near this guy?

   I mean, sure, it could be a logging truck with a full load of fresh cut trees, but man, that mattress and foundation are either going to fly off the top of that Subaru, or that Subaru is going to take flight.