Going Cowgirl
Yesterday was spent in downtown Ft Worth shopping for our cowboy outfits at Leddy’s. I am now outfitted – black felt cowboy hat, orange crushed velvet mini skirt, belt, star of Texas buckle, boots (so fly), black silk cowboy shirt. S has shirt and jeans. W and V got boots. So we are good to go on our band. Rita managed to ruin a few places and spill a lot of water in New Orleans, breaching some levees, but all we felt was a beautiful day with nice breezes here in Arlington. P joined us at the Modern and for shopping and Reata for dinner. He has boots and just needs a buckle before he can be in the band.
I keep thinking about Elizabeth and Alexis at Uncle Joe’s – I miss their voices and the sessions. Then my mind will wander to the cute French waiter at Degas and I wonder if he is coming back. I lay in bed napping this afternoon and in a dreamy state of mind and S said he was at the end of his coping with the group – he needs to have alone time more than anyone I know – I asked him if he wanted to move back to California since O had said she felt sorry for S the most because she understood I was coming back to a place that haunts me but he was just following me so now he was suffering a diaster for no reason – he said sometimes when he feels my distance he wonders what he is doing here and he turns to his work for solace. Why would a place call to me so loudly that it makes me miss it like a lover, makes it difficult to call home to another place – I feel as if the power it holds on me is indicative of my ability to lose myself.
The Muse has had me running loops around myself and not sure where I have ended up. Friday began in the red because of Thursday night’s bourbon, but I gained clarity through the day and then later the pool and a cocktail were able to kick that nasty feeling and a mellow evening and sleep helped a great deal to right me again. Saturday spent downtown at museums and shops – with a few moments of confusion and everything seemingly scattered here and yon, and drawing the shades to try to think my way out of some spinning emotional state but then I righted myself again. Sunday mellow except for S craving his own time. He said he had looked online for some hotels but because Rita made Houston evacuate all the rooms were booked here in Arlington. After my nap, I cried for longing to be back in New Orleans – I miss the bayou. I miss the blessed mornings when I woke to take the Bean for her playdate – please bring those days back to me – as sweet as they were, they will be even sweeter. I fear that sometimes I want something that will never be and that is disconcerting.
The Bean is better and back to begging. She brings me such great happiness that I question anyone’s ability to leave a dog behind during a hurricane – I know – these are extraordinary times but yet I still can’t understand the pets in New Orleans. Arlene is the best dog. I would have strapped her to my chest to wade through the water with her – of course, I hope I am not being too cavalier.
At the end of the day, Arlington remains the same – a depot for emotional pauses and outpourings – Katrina remains one enormous distraction or catalyst for change – we won’t know until later when we look back and contemplate the days. I believe there are options that are ahead of us that don’t fit neatly into what most would expect = it’s not as if this happens then this or that happens then that you can totally stretch the options to have more flexibility.