01 September 2016 – Sonora’s all moved in. Whirlwind couple of days getting things sorted. The move itself went quick (she doesn’t have a lot of stuff and we had Griffin and Benson along). Bigger job was shuffling things around on this end. It’s a spacious 2-bedroom garden suite, fully appointed and furnished, but the majority of Liz’s belongings are down there. No matter, the three of us girls took it as a bonding experience and had us some fun with it. Sonora’s uber excited. The last place was a bit of a shithole. And though she payed a relatively modest rent, she’ll be paying Griffin even less. To top it off she got to take her trip home. Whisked her off to the airport before work this morning. She’s been everso grateful. Having her live downstairs hasn’t really sunk in yet but I’m pretty excited about the prospects. Aside from Griffin, and maybe Liz, she’s by far the easiest person I’ve met to be myself around. And with everything that’s happened this summer it’s nice to think a new normal is on the horizon.

02 September 2016 – Started another notebook. No rules/restrictions for this one. Place to record thoughts etc. On lunch today came up with idea for ICE story. Here’s what I wrote: ‘They have a tiny kitchen. The two of them can’t be in it at the same time. At least not while she’s in there, whence it becomes her domain. Even if she’s not being culinary. She does a lot on her phone in the kitchen (she does this elsewhere too, but when she’s in the kitchen doing it, standing there transfixed, it’s as if she’s planning a meal). He frequently transgresses the boundaries. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes because there’s no other way. To access the fridge, for instance, he has to step into the kitchen to open the door. When he does this, say to grab a beer, she stops what she’s doing to glower at him. Hard. Though he can’t see her, he can feel the temperature of her eyes boiling on his back.’

03 September 2016 – ICE Club happened without me today. The boys sought me out at the beginning of my shift (which coincides with the onset of their free time) to tell me they were taking a field trip. Their mission was twofold: to arrive at a pre-selected destination (all they would tell me about the spot was that it has a view of the water and the mountains) and, once there, to take it in turns to tell each other a) something that caught their eye on the way (rules here were that they would draw straws to see who went first, then one after another share their observations—to a limit of three apiece, none of which could be duplicated), and b) after all the observations were shared, each of them would choose three (none of which could their own) to include in their next story. I almost regretted not being able to join them. Even moreso because I will have to wait 4 weeks to see/hear what they come up with.


More on the couple with the tiny kitchen: ‘They have a dog. The man likes taking it for slow walks around the block. He does this three times a day. First thing in the morning, during which he sips from a mug of coffee; once he returns home from work, when he’ll have a can of beer; and lastly just before bed, in order to smoke one of his thin cigars. The woman finds these the most peaceful moments of her day. Suddenly the apartment feels spacious. She can relax and breathe and do as she pleases without a set of eyes or a little body following her every move. Precious moments, to be sure. But if they last too long worries begin to plague her thoughts. What was peaceful becomes pressing. At such times she imagines accidents (he is not so young anymore) and tries to pace away her fears. Inevitably, the door will open. All tongue and paws the dog will scamper excitedly to her feet and want to climb her legs. The man will enter their home with a smile on his face and a desire to share with her the latest from so-and-so down the block, with whom he’s had a good long chat.’

04 September 2016 – Here should be an account of another of my dreams. Had gotten a good ways through describing it when the power went out. Took me a few minutes to realize I hadn’t done something to upset the balance of the universe. Then a few more to recover my wits—crazy how reliant we are on electricity! It’s several hours later now. The power’s back on and our Sunday shopping is done. But the account of my dream is gone (I don’t know where it went, my computer supposedly automatically saves what I write as I write…not this time, it seems). I’m not going to try and remember the details. The main point is that I was driving a van through varied terrain (endlessly flat lands, craggy mountains, smoother foothills, across water) and that I was, or think I was, Delilah. Sneaking suspicion I won’t be able to close this letter until she is addressed. Not now, but soon. Very soon for I have decided that this coming Friday is my deadline (we leave for our roadtrip on Saturday). I even have a simple closing ceremony in mind. To tape an envelop onto the inside back cover of my notebook. Place these pages therein. Light a candle. Seal envelop with drops of wax.


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