The night before a visitor arrives is always a night of quiet, panicked, introspection. Especially when it's a visitor I've not seen in a while, and if it's someone whose opinion I trust.

Tomorrow, Colter arrives for a short visit. He's headed out east to attend a concert and putting in a side trip to Alabama as a bonus.

Mc and Mc
at Hillcrest, Little Rock, Arkansas, United States by domesticat.
(A picture of us from our last meeting if you're curious—come to think of it, I'm wearing that sweater right now. Full photoset is here.)

His is a friendship filled with memories of every color and shape. Colter, who let me sleep in his dorm room heaven knows how many times during my freshman year while I was distraught over another, floundering, friendship.

Several days afterward, I found your snifter
lying in the cranny between sofa and table,
having come to rest next to the wall
after being brushed aside during the party.

The cats hadn't bothered it—yet—
but the dust was starting to stick, feather-
soft, to the rounded rim and fluted bowl.

I reached out to it, one breast pressed flat
against the side of the couch as my fingers
danced tantalizingly close, closer, and finally
brought the elusive glassware within reach.

Victorious, I cupped it with my fingers
and brought it gently to my nose, in an airy

Leaving is never so easy as saying hello.
The whippoorwill outside my window tunes its song
as the sun readies itself for its morning stretch
vaguely past the eastern horizon.

The odometer respools as you stare ahead,
counting bags or trinkets—or layovers—in your mind,
while I search for the correct iteration
of farewell for you.

Your flight leaves in forty minutes,
in which time you must complete the march
from counter to metal detector to counter, again,
while I take the car and drive back home,

with the knowledge that the space of a weekend

Rather ironic, the rain returning. Just what I needed; an excuse to settle in and write, with cats and spouse tucked into bed earlier than usual, and a movie whose finishing hinges upon the return of my normal attention span.

It crept up, slow and steady, as the day went by. Any southerner knows it—the traditionally blue sky dulled to a white haze by the low-lying clouds. The heat of the day triggers these storms; they come in late afternoon and early evening. If they clear before sundown, the result is a soupy, humid mire; if the storms continue past sundown, some actual cooling-off takes place.

Running errands at two p.m. in the atmospheric soup left me breathless and sweaty. I went home, changed clothing per Kat's instructions, and met up for the casual Wednesday night dinner at the wondergeeks' apartment.

Which, to my almost-total surprise, turned out to be neither casual nor at the wondergeeks.

Computer upgrades necessitating that I wipe and completely reinstall all software on my computer dictate that I may not be fully net-accessible for the next couple of days.

In addition to that "life" thing. Always seems to interfere when what I really want to do is sit in front of a keyboard and write, it does.Today: helping Geof move into his new apartment. Corollary: I'm lousy at hauling and moving stuff, especially when large, bulky items are involved. Best to leave the heavy lifting to professionals. However, if you want your kitchen unpacked or a suitable layout created for your living room, I'm your domesticat.

A bit of an interesting subject came up today while Kat and I were out shopping. It's one that I've pondered for a while, and just don't have any answer or response to.