emma b. says

Monday, March 08, 2004

There is blighted blue on the ridge and the sun is blinding, and I have found my sunglasses and I am late and I have to pee.

and Juice gave me the wrong number and Enterprise didn't have a car, and for heavens sakes I ate mother fucking burgerking in the snow...

And there is the valet parker from new zealand, and there is the mountain, and there are ski booted feet, and the clomp, clomp, and snow is cold. We forget, until we reach an ungloved hand into a a waiting snowbank, to lob a friendly snowball at an unsuspecting friend.

And there are sunburned boys sipping beers... everywhere!

And the girls and I, friends, minus a tiff here and there, since we were seven, having facials, lolling in the sauna.

Then there is paella at K's. There are nearly 11 small children and they make an astonishing lot of noise. There is also sangia and a full moon, and it is bright as cold, white daylight. Blue white, white blue.

There is a hen party plopped down in the stairwell, children abed, husbands in front of the TV. Only KE is without children, and LR is recently widowed. I have an ex-husband and no children, I think I am a closet pariah...

but there we are in the stairwell, yearbooks between us. quotes.
you made out with him
so did I
did you make out with him
no you didn't
yes I did
oh he's totally hot now
I made out with him
I wish I did
I had sex with him in his bronco
you were such a ho
collective giggles
more sangria


john cale said that the best thing about growing up in a small town is you know your going to leave. And I did.
But these women that I have known forever are my deep, deep roots. My childhood, my adolescence. And it is a grand thing to know them, and to carry them still.

I forget, how much those mountains and that desert air are a part of me. I had forgotten what snow tastes like. Juice and I were snow tasting, a decided mix of pine and dirt, quite palatable, crisp on the tongue.

I forgot to put on sunblock, but I frankly don't care.


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