Saturday, July 26, 2008



I drove from Kimball, Nebraska down to Denver with my wonderful Aunt Jane and cousin Brian. They both knew exactly what I needed after 10 days of beef 'n potatoes.

Brian had apparently long been wanting to take me to a restaurant called Domo, which has an unprepossessing exterior. But on the inside, it's a dojo-meets-restaurant-meets-museum. It was a taste of home.

Nonetheless, I confess to being sad to leave the plains behind. I have so many good feelings and memories about that part of our country.

The plane bounced nearly all the way. With clouds like this, it's not hard to imagine why. I just wish some of them would dump some rain on Western Nebraska.

From the plane, I could see that the Big Sur wildfire was still active. Look at how the smoke is just pouring, cauldron-like, over the hillside. The air was a sick reddish-yellow. It looked like a wound.

Ahoy there, McMansionites. How does it feel to have your palace directly in a flight path?

The Monterey Airport has an observation deck, and I always try to go up there to watch the planes take off or land. I would so like to learn to fly a plane.

In the past, my parents were always on this deck waiting and waving to me. I don't know why it took me so many years to try to snap a photo of the deck while landing. I can make out my mother because I know where she was standing. She's the blurry black dot in the middle, relieved to see me home.

We went straight to the beach for the sunset. The sands were filled with parties and people playing games and eating and enjoying each other. I was in a daze.

My mother told me how, the day before, she'd come across a man fishing off the beach just for fun. He'd catch a fish, then throw it back in the surf. She couldn't stand it any more, and managed to talk him into giving her some fish for free. He was happy to share.

Over the phone, my mother had asked me what I wanted for dinner.

"Please make it fish," I had said.

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