The Second Farewell Tour

Last Friday afternoon, with Mom and Dad still in Vegas, having a full day of looking at other apartments and mobile home parks just in case (they found where we're going to live, but just wanted to look at possible backups that we hopefully don't have to use. I'll elaborate some other time), the extensive changes I saw at College of the Canyons didn't surprise me as much as total ignorance of history yet again, which I know is to be expected from the Santa Clarita Valley, but this time, it was truly breathtaking.

During the First Farewell Tour, I decided on that Wednesday that we should have a Second Farewell Tour, to our old apartment in Valencia, and to College of the Canyons to see what has changed since Meridith and I went there as students, my time there further back than hers. Then a walk around the mall, not so much a Farewell Tour since we've been there many times already, but rather as a reminder of the better life to come in Las Vegas with better malls, not just a repository for Hot Topic and Forever 21.

The apartment, situated behind a shopping center that includes Pavilions supermarket and Peet's Coffee and Tea, was the same as the last time we went, a few months prior. It's a revolving-door apartment. No one stays for very long. It's either a starter, or just temporary digs until fully deciding what to do. For us, unfortunately, it was a starter. If we had stayed there for all these nearly eight years, I still wouldn't have liked Santa Clarita, but it wouldn't have been as bad to me as it is. It was peaceful, the one place in Valencia where you could truly clear your head of all the noise and make your own oasis, filling it with whatever you wanted. You want only music and books? You can have it. You want to spend all your free hours at the pool behind, but connected to, the clubhouse? It's yours.

I remember a second-floor neighbor who had his fish tank balanced on the ledge of his patio, plugged into the socket out there. I don't know how he maintained that balance, but he must have had some serious confidence. Very little probably worried him.

In that apartment complex, you always meet people very briefly, but the few impressions you get are nothing of the shallowness that pervades the rest of the valley. People are just trying to make their way through the day, hoping to live it how they want. The clubhouse staff, those in the rental office mainly, were really the only shallow-looking ones. Nothing much to them. But that was it. You could go to Stevenson Ranch, you could go to other parts of Valencia, you could go to whatever parts of L.A. you wanted, see the mindlessness, come back and know that your apartment would not be bombarded by all of that. It was truly home for a time. Not a home I could have seen myself in for the rest of my life, but suitable for when we were there. We should have stayed there longer and not moved into pretty much total isolation in Saugus.

After stopping at Jamba Juice, and then the post office to drop off my check to the IRS, Meridith and I walked to College of the Canyons. No bus needed like the one we took from Saugus to that Pavilions shopping center. I wanted to show Meridith the route I sometimes walked, though it was from the bus transfer station to COC, yet we walked through that transfer station on our way. Meridith always waited for the bus because she was loaded down with textbooks, binders, and her knife kit for her cooking classes. She'd never seen that rising and falling set of sidewalks like the ones we walked, like the ones I walked all those years ago.

Getting to the campus, I saw the sober-gray parking lot signs that hadn't been there when I was there. Comparing my time there to Meridith's time, my COC was bare bones. My cafeteria at the back of the Student Center had long tables tucked into corners, my favorite being one in the way back of the cafeteria, on the far right, if you're standing at the entrance. Instead of doing my math homework, I'd read many books, but mostly Subways are for Sleeping by Edmund G. Love whenever I got a copy from either the Hawthorne or Norwalk branch of the County of Los Angeles library system through my Valencia branch.

Those tables are gone, replaced by one small circular table with bluish armchairs around it, and one at the other end of the same arrangement. I think there were long tables on the main cafeteria floor as well, or maybe not, but now there's a lot more circular tables with black chairs around it. The kitchen areas were closed, including the Subway stand (that's closed until the start of the fall semester since they don't make significant money during the summer, being that those areas are only open until noon or 1 p.m. during the summer), but I noticed that the Subway stand was moved from the start of the area to the end, facing the cafeteria, and where it previously had been now has beverage refrigerators lining that wall. I don't know how COC manages to do it, but that wall looked solid, just like many other walls I saw.

After the cafeteria, Meridith took me over to Hasley Hall, where she had attended one or two classes, and which had never been there when I was there. Not completely there. It was just beginning construction when I was there. But now, this washed-out gray building with automatic glass doors that slide apart when you approach them, a burbling small waterfall on the ground floor, and the film department now having its own theater there, I first wondered where in the hell the school had gotten all the money for this building, and then was impressed with what they had done. They have turned education there into even more of a sanctuary. People can study whatever COC offers in complete peace. The classrooms are most impressive, wide and without the usual stigma of costly education. I'll bet this is exactly why fees have gone up and up time and again, which makes me glad I graduated long ago. Plus, the former journalism department has a cluster of rooms there too, although the in-print Canyon Call was disbanded and now COC has Cougar News Online, which to me is vastly disappointing because newbie journalists should have the pleasure of seeing their name and their words in print. I know that the industry is veering from that, but on a community college campus, journalism students need that. I have all five weeks of my time as interim editor of The Signal's weekend Escape section in print. It wouldn't be the same to me online. I can flip through those pages, know why I put in what I put in, what I was also doing when I wrote my own articles for the section, and what I was already thinking about for the next week. These are my memories in print.

Knowing that here was the journalism department on the second floor of Hasley Hall, and there was the film department on the first floor, what happened to the building formerly known as the M building, now known as Mentry Hall? (That's another thing: They gave actual names to these buildings, no doubt based on how much money those names donated, but it was simpler to just have letters. The buildings don't change much on the outside just because they're given names.)

We went to the second floor of the building because that's where the screening room was for the film department. It's still there, but the door was locked, so I couldn't see if anything had changed, though I doubt it. No reason for it to change.

My biggest shock was on the first floor of Mentry Hall, where the former newsroom of the Canyon Call was. The door was open, and right in front of me, a white wall. The glass case displaying old cameras was nice to see, and obviously a clue into what this part of the building now was. When we walked in, two darkrooms were to our left. To our right, what used to be the offices for journalism advisors Jim Ruebsamen and Lila Littlejohn (who has worked as the editor-in-chief at The Signal and now the City Editor, I think), are now either still faculty offices or conference rooms. But next to those rooms were just solid wall. They had torn out that newsroom and now there's only walls. How did they do it so fast? Is there anything still within those walls or is it truly solid wall?

Oh, but that's not all. We went up to the second floor of Towsley Hall, and where I used to take that door across from one of the elevators into a hallway to go to my English class, there's only two classrooms in that now-small section of space, one across from the other. That's it. Where did the other classrooms go? And again, how fast did they tear them down? Because that being solid wall, nothing behind it can remain.

I'm not against that kind of widespread change. The College of the Canyons I knew is not the College of the Canyons my sister knew, and that's not the College of the Canyons current students know. I can live with that, just like how Walt Disney World today is not the Walt Disney World I knew. But at least in that case, there are fans and Disney historians who know what came before, who have memorabilia related to those times, who know what the parks looked like before various changes in different years. I know that I can't expect the same because this is Santa Clarita after all, but COC could use a historian in much the same way. Did someone at least take photos of those hallways now gone? Does the library keep such records? I don't know and I don't think I ever will know, nor do I want to because it's not my place. I hope there are, though, because I remember, and I'm sure not staying here.

Across from the extensively grassy Honor Grove area, where students laze about and where graduation ceremonies are held at the end of terms, and under Towsley Hall, Meridith and I stood at an automat-type vending machine in which you press either the left or right arrow buttons and the racks spin, revealing sandwiches, Red Bulls, ramen cups, burritos, plastic spoons and forks. You find what you want, line the plastic door up to where you want it, put in your money, slide that door open and take out what you want. I asked Meridith to take a photo of it:



I don't remember if this vending machine was around when I was at COC, but it looks old enough to have been there during my time. I never went into that area much, so I wouldn't have noticed anyway. But it seems like the only constant you can find at COC now are the vending machines. Sure they took out the candy vending machine with M&Ms and Snickers and Reese's, and so much other good candy in California's Quest for Better Health (not a name of any program, but that's the attitude of it), but that's just one machine. The others I knew are still there.

The library is all I'm really grateful for at COC because it sustained me in the weeks after we moved to Santa Clarita, when I was trying to figure out what all this was and where I could fit into it if we had to live there. I found a bit of that fitting in at The Signal, but not enough to really feel like I was part of something good. Granted, I gained necessary experience that I could use for what I want to pursue next as a writer, but that wasn't quite enough. At the library, I had all those books, all those novelists to pull down and read, and it was different from going to the Valencia library because it wasn't as public. It was just me and those books. Mine to figure out what I wanted. I could sit on the floor with one long bookcase looming in front of me and one behind me and never have to get up for anyone passing by.

Alas, the library was closed by the time we got to COC (It closes at noon during the summer and we got there after 1 p.m.), but that was ok. It's not my library anymore; it belongs to others. This campus hasn't been mine in so long, but I can still see those ghosts, knowing that that wall used to be the Canyon Call newsroom, knowing that those two classrooms used to be a hallway to English department classrooms.

It's different at the mall. On our walk to COC, we passed by construction of a pool behind the Gold's Gym building, which used to be Borders. I couldn't imagine where there would be room for a pool, but a no-longer-used loading dock is a good place to have it. A Gold's Gym across from Wolf Creek Restaurant & Brewing Co., and near the Edwards Valencia 12 movie theater is still odd to me, but these changes don't really matter. Businesses will take up space wherever they can find it. Thank god for Chipotle, though. That was the best quesadilla I have had in a very long time, much less greasy than Chronic Tacos makes them.

Facing Las Vegas, I won't miss anything in Santa Clarita. But if I was to miss anything about this valley, COC doesn't rank very highly, not even for sentimental reasons with the library. An education haven, sure. A quiet campus at which to study. And at the now-COC Performing Arts Center (it had a few other names over the years), I saw Frank Ferrante as Groucho Marx in a one-man show, and Hal Holbrook as Mark Twain in a one-man show. I sure won't forget those. But there is nothing at that campus that I will pine for, because the UNLV campus has it beat. It's huge, and even if you just drive around, you can still get lost if you don't have a general idea of where you're going. You have to pay attention to those signs around the campus. I still haven't seen the library, though I want to, I want to tap into any historical archives they have there, I want to play at the arcade there, I want to look around in that bookstore again, and I know I'm going to have a lot of fun there, even though I'm not a student. They welcome everyone, no matter why you're there.

Letting Me Go Easy

The Santa Clarita Valley and I have always been at odds, as has been well-documented. But last night, we agreed on a permanent truce, triggered by a simple act.

I've never believed that there are any truly good people living here, just vapid, shallow people, with the great exception of former Signal columnist and weekend Escape editor John Boston, who was my mentor at the newspaper for a time, who showed me through his methods of writing and editing how to feel truly free in one's work, to explore anything, and to write about it too. He was just one person, though. What about the rest of the valley, which to me has never had heart, never compassion, never any indication that it cares?

I could say that tonight was just coincidence, but I like to believe that it was the valley's doing, offering the end of our always-fractured relationship. The Showtime series Episodes turned me from an unfortunate resident back into a very happy tourist, but I also needed to emotionally disconnect from this valley. And I have.

Throughout the evening, I heard splashes and little-kid voices from the community pool that the right side of our large patio overlooks. Also some adult voices, but mainly the shouts of those kids. As nighttime officially arrived with a near-to-8 p.m. darkness, I heard a thump on our patio, across from our kitchen window facing the "neighbor" across from us (not really a neighbor in that sense, just the standard definition of one who simply lives across from you). I opened the door that leads to the patio and heard the little boy of the group tell his grandfather that he wanted to draw things, be an animator, and his grandfather jokingly replied, "Are you going to make enough money to take care of your grandfather?" These kids sounded like the most well-behaved group that ever visited the pool in the nearly seven years we've lived in this place.

I turned on the patio lights and found a new, green tennis ball on the ground. I picked it up and wondered where it came from: Was a nearby neighbor too overzealous with throwing the tennis ball a short distance to their dog? Then I realized that it must have come from the kids because it sounded like they were also playing on the path that leads from the pool area to the pool gate, which passes right by the high wall of our patio. So they threw it, and it landed there.

I debated whether to keep it, give it to Kitty, but she loves her orange tennis balls. I had no use for it because I don't play tennis and the basketball in my room is my ball of choice. I walked over to that wall and threw the ball back down the path toward the pool area. I heard one of the kids exclaim, "Someone threw it back!" and in unison, whether two or three kids, I heard "Thank you!" I called back, "No problem!", and went back inside.

Living in Santa Clarita for nearly eight years and experiencing other parts of Southern California, you learn a lot about who people are, how to tell right away whether they'll help you or harm you in some way, what they want from you, and if they're sincere. I am grateful to this region to have learned all that without having to play poker to learn, but hated all the baggage that came with it, all that I had to endure.

This was nice. This felt to me like the valley's truce. And it came after learning that Dad's job interview went well, that Mom and Dad may very well have found our home in Las Vegas. All I'll say so far is that it's in Las Vegas. They'll probably look at more developments tomorrow to have a backup plan just in case, but if this works out, we'll be residents of Las Vegas. There are enough stores nearby to please Mom, so we have the basics in food shopping and anything else we might need; it's eight miles from the Strip, and Mom told us that you can't see it from inside this development, but when you pull out, there it is: My desert dream. I've also learned about my potential home library branch, and received the happy news that my beloved Pinball Hall of Fame is only four miles from there.

Perhaps the valley knows before I do that we'll be leaving very soon. I hope so. I'm still not happy that we spent all these years here, but what happened last night makes me reconcile the fact that that time is gone and now it's time to make up for it, quicker than I ever imagined. Because there will not only be a lot to make me quickly forget about the unhappy experiences I've had here in Santa Clarita, but I'll be so busy with research for books and novels I want to write about Las Vegas that it may be like I've never known anything else but Las Vegas, save for our happy years in Casselberry, Florida up to 1992, of which I see Las Vegas as a continuation after a very long interruption.

From Santa Clarita, I take only my detailed education in how to read people. And I'm grateful that it let me go easy. My heart, mind, and soul are already in Las Vegas, and my body is just waiting to get there.

The First Farewell Tour

Mom and Dad set out for Las Vegas in a rented Chevy HHR yesterday afternoon, a little after 2. They'll be back on Saturday, which leaves Meridith and I to do whatever we want, but without use of the PT Cruiser since we don't drive the roads here, and it's the only car we have right now between the four of us. Even if they were home, we still wouldn't use it, because it has to be treated very delicately, and even if we would, it's not worth it because we still need it to get around and it can't go great, great distances. Plus we're looking to trade it in for a younger car when the time comes. It's aging rapidly.

So, with time to ourselves, what to do....

Basketball?

Check.

Sunscreen?

Check.

A water bottle for each of us?

Check.

A plastic bag for the basketball and the water bottles?

Check.

Meridith wanted to go to the Circle K near our place, so that was our first stop. She was looking for new spicy-flavored Slim Jims: Chili pepper, jalapeno, and habanero. Circle K had them, but they were only the monster sizes.

Next was Circle K and they only had mild Slim Jims, since the customers they get are often mild-mannered.

Then we walked through the Seco Canyon Village shopping center, which looks nothing like a village, but of course the name of a shopping center or a strip mall is never supposed to reflect what it is. It's supposed to be more than the setting actually is, with the hope of blinding people to how dull it is. Or at least that's how it is with Seco Canyon Village, which offers a veterinarian, dry cleaners, Papa John's, dentist's office, a vaguely Italian restaurant, and a credit union bank. CVS is the anchor of this shopping center. Very small. Doesn't feel at all like a home shopping center.

To walk from our apartment to way out to the intersection next to Rite Aid is about 1.9 miles. 1.9, and it took us three hours to walk there and back with many stops on the way. We walked from CVS through that shopping center, past many neighborhood entrances, to the park to see if anyone was playing basketball. If the court was empty, we were going to shoot some hoops. We're not that good that we can play a full game.

The hoops were being used, so we kept on walking, past the elementary school, to the 7-11 on that side of the street where we also didn't find the regular size spicy Slim Jims Meridith wanted. After that, we crossed the intersection to the Shell gas station convenience store to check, and nothing there either.

Then Rite-Aid, first to look for the Slim Jims and finding the same mild ones that CVS had, and then, hey! How about some ice cream? They've got that Thrifty ice cream with scoops that look like rounded squares. A scoop of butter pecan for me in a sugar cone and a scoop of Circus Animal Cookie ice cream in a regular cone for Meridith, with the frosted cookies mixed into the ice cream. Not pieces; whole. Meridith found three in her scoop.

We walked the length of that Rite Aid shopping center, remembering that the Goodwill store was in the back. Once we got to the corner of it, Meridith called Mom and told her about our walk so far and that we got ice cream, and Mom said to her that we sure know how to make the most of our time. We sure do. Plus, she and Dad were going to Golden Corral in Hesperia, a buffet we haven't seen since Florida, so it was only right that we did something good for ourselves, and that was ice cream at Rite Aid. But that wasn't all.

I love the old books at Goodwill, seeing what people owned before that's now in these stores. When we walked past the kitchen items to get to the books, I said to Meridith that it's like looking in other people's houses, except it's legal!

I was also looking for a VHS copy of Neil Simon's I Ought to Be in Pictures, since it still hasn't been released on DVD, and I wanted to own it on VHS since I still have a VCR, and it's the same reason I own The Glass Menagerie, starring Joanne Woodward, John Malkovich, Karen Allen, and James Naughton, on VHS. I want these two movies on DVD already and I think that day may be coming soon since Warner Bros. has the Warner Archive and Sony has its own made-on-demand disc service, releasing previously unreleasable old movies for fear that they wouldn't turn a profit. But here's a way for people to have them and for the studios to still make money.

The walk to this intersection and the long walk back, through those neighborhoods, past a blue clapboard house with a country feel that I want to find a variation of in Las Vegas one day (not as a house, but as an apartment or something of that ilk), was to look at this area more closely, to see what we didn't see very often because we always drive right by it, to feel more the fact that this valley can never rise from what it is. I know it even more now. It seems to be fine with what it is, but it's not my kind of fine, so that's good enough reason to finally move on out. And yet, it was also to do what we've never done in these 7 and 3/4 years we've lived in Saugus: To get ice cream from Rite Aid and just walk around. To sit at a picnic table at the park to rest our feet after a long walk, which was much more out of necessity than a wish, but we've never sat down at those tables, just to sit and watch the little scenery there is, the cars blazing by, the people walking around the park, the people walking past us with dogs who it turns out were headed for a dog obedience class being held in a nearby section of the park.

It didn't increase the goodwill I've never had toward this valley, but it made me realize that somehow, people have found their lives here. I don't know how they do it, and certainly they're made of different material than I am, and that's good. It's home for them, and they treat it as they please. Their ways don't jibe with my ways. Therefore, still no connection to this valley after all these years, which is as expected. I will leave with no regrets, nothing to reconsider. I found the limited scenery peaceful at least, even with the traffic right near me. So there was that, but still never enough.

On the walk to 7-11, Meridith and I planned what I call our Second Farewell Tour. It may or may not be tomorrow, depending on if someone comes out to fix our broken washer, but it will definitely be either Thursday or Friday. We were originally planning to go to Valencia Town Center Mall to try the burgers from Burger King's summer BBQ menu, since we both tried the bacon sundae last Sunday, and we'll still do that, but we also want to walk to College of the Canyons and walk around the campus to see how our old haunts have changed (the library and a table far in the back at the cafeteria for me; that same table for my sister since she hung out there with her friends) and how the campus has changed in general from when we both went there at separate times. We haven't been back since we each graduated from there, and I would like to go to the bookstore once without hyperventilating over how much I have to pay for a textbook, which I did every time I went there as a student. Now I can do it as an outsider and laugh at those prices. But if they have any Sam Shepard plays for the theater classes again, I'll buy them used, or new if the price is reasonable. Plus I want to see what the English department is pushing these days. Plus I'd like to see the old journalism newsroom which they might be using for something else, since student journalism classes were cancelled in 2009 and the Canyon Call newspaper was disbanded, long after I left. Apparently, there's an online news publication, so they may be using that newsroom now.

Mom and Dad are in Las Vegas for a job interview Dad has on Thursday, and starting today, they're going to look at mobile home parks they've researched. Nothing barren or hopeless-looking. They've found a few that apparently have a community feel and they want to investigate further, including a senior mobile home park that allows Meridith and I there too, since we're over 18. That's Mom's first stop, and she'll go from there. She's hoping that it'll be as easy as when they found the Super 8 that they're staying at on the Strip, across from Bellagio, with views of Planet Hollywood, the Cosmopolitan, and a slight view of New York-New York. I think it will be, because it happened exactly like this 7 and 3/4 years ago. They went back to Southern California in late July 2003, while Meridith and I stayed home with Tigger in our condo in Pembroke Pines, Dad had a job interview then too, got the job, and they found our apartment in Valencia. We're hoping that it plays out exactly the same way because this will be the first time we've felt at home anywhere since 1992, when we sadly left Casselberry in Central Florida for Coral Springs in South Florida, after having spent many happy years there. Happiness is coming again!

For now, the Second Farewell Tour is coming, and it's necessary. When I needed to find some kind of footing in Santa Clarita, to get clear of that frenzied cross-country move from South Florida to Southern California, to figure out who I was in Southern California, that library at College of the Canyons was there for me, and so was the empty campus at 3:50 p.m. every Friday afternoon, after my cinema class, which I loved to walk before I began my walk from the campus to the bus transfer station across from the mall property. Peace in the middle of a vortex. That's what it was. I need to see it one more time, to see what changed, and to remember and to appreciate again. Besides my family, at least that was there.

The Run of the House is Over

Mom and Dad came home late yesterday afternoon bearing many most-welcome gifts. Two notepads, a napkin and a cup from Bellagio, for one, the napkin and the cup being from Cafe Gelato, where they spent part of their 29th wedding anniversary. Most important to me were the two bags of newspapers brought home, newspapers I intend to read completely. I started last night with The Henderson Press, and by the first article, I already had a favorite reporter in there, and I hope he's still there by the time I become a resident in August. I've also heard that there's a box containing The Henderson Press near the mailboxes at our future apartment complex. I'll be getting that every Thursday when it comes out. I won't let that one sit.

They brought home the Friday and Sunday editions of the Las Vegas Review-Journal, as I asked, as well as the two most recent issues of Las Vegas Weekly, one touting their awards that they give based on voting in different categories (The Pinball Hall of Fame was named "Best Place to Take Your Kids"), and the other about the burlesque scene in Las Vegas. I liked the burlesque cover for obvious reasons, but I'm equally excited about both because here, I just skim through the L.A. Weekly. I don't relate to much in there. I relate to nearly everything in Las Vegas Weekly. Plus, I get to read Josh Bell, my favorite film critic, regularly. I discovered him in 2007 while reading an issue of Las Vegas Weekly while we waited for a table at Burger Bar at Mandalay Bay, before seeing "Mamma Mia!" downstairs at the Mandalay Bay Theater. Unlike many other film critics, Bell isn't looking to become the next Roger Ebert. He loves movies, he knows movies, and that's enough. Plus, he's as bright as the desert he calls home.

Meridith's happy about the new apartment because within the complex, there's a tennis court. I've been told that there's a full-size basketball court, so I'm set. The last time I had a basketball hoop was next to our driveway when I was a kindergartner in Casselberry, Florida. And being that I consider Las Vegas and the surrounding areas my new Disney World, it's fitting that I have the chance to play basketball regularly again. I consider all of this my new Disney World because going to Walt Disney World every weekend and sometimes during the week just for dinner when I was little always fired my imagination, and partly led to me becoming a writer. Vegas does the same to me all the time, and I've always believed that if you're a writer and you can't find anything to write about in Las Vegas, just quit.

Now the process begins. Now it's time for me to ditch a lot of books and DVDs, taking what is only crucial and necessary to my life. Now it's time to open up boxes we haven't seen since we moved to this apartment six years ago and figure out what we're going to take with us, or not. Now is the time for the anticipation to build, to be happy about what's ahead for us, and then to be so excited when we get there and settle, that we'll have no choice but to burst like Mr. Creosote in Monty Python's Meaning of Life. And then we'll put ourselves back together and figure out where to go out to eat. There's a lot more choice there than there ever has been here. And that's the biggest understatement of my entire life.

For once, Mom's not constantly repeating how much she hates this place, because she knows that there's far better living arrangements ahead. She's talked to us excitedly about everything she experienced there and described the apartment to us many times, as well as the new cable system we'll enjoy, which includes a Tivo that can record four things at once, and whatever's on the Tivo can be sent to any room. Plus, the channel lineup is nice, including Boomerang, Nicktoons (I wish they would show Doug), and I have Turner Classic Movies back, as well as a few sports channels I never had, so I can find basketball more often now.

This will be real living. Not just living and waiting and surviving as it has been these many years. Every single day a new experience. This is going to work.

The Run of the House: Day 9 - Homeward Bound

Mom and Dad got the PT Cruiser back yesterday and it's all been repaired properly, but they have to go back to the mechanic today to get the back left brake light adjusted. After that, they're coming home. It'll have been 10 days for them in Las Vegas and Henderson, the same number of days as that second trip to Southern California back in 2003 when they found not only a job for Dad, but an apartment, too; nearly the same as this trip, save for the job, which we're still awaiting word on, but hoping that it comes through.

This also means that the cycle of chores has built itself up again, more urgent than in previous days, though fortunately the list of chores they gave before they left have long been done. This time, I begin with a question: Where do we store the seven full white garbage bags until their contents can be donated? They're sitting near the right wall that faces the dining room table, and are protruding so that when Meridith's sitting at the table with her laptop (The same as Dad does with his laptop in the same spot), I have to do some slight ballet to get through. We're thinking that the garage may be best for now, so long as they eventually disappear.

The day before yesterday, I washed my collection of underwear and socks, so I've got to fold all of that, preferably before they get home, because surely they'll have things of their own to wash (The washing machine at Hawthorne Suites was not kind to all the clothes. The day after they had been done, Dad's pants ripped while he and Mom were out, so they had to go right back there so he could put on another pair). Meridith told me yesterday that we have to dump the litter from the birds' cages today and put in fresh litter. That means not only vacuuming around and through the stands on which their cages sit, but also near Kitty's cage since I still haven't vacuumed what was left after she tore the stuffing and then the padding out of her kennel mat when Meridith and I were out. I'm also thinking about whether to vacuum Mom and Dad's room again, but just a quick run this time. Not as much to clean.

Probably the recycling from the kitchen has to go out to the bin in the garage, so I'll do that. I'm guessing that they'll either leave Vegas in the late morning or the early afternoon after seeing the mechanic again (That's one of the nice things about this trip: We know a few people now for things we might need. People who have lived in the area for years). That gives us plenty of time, since they'll probably stop in Baker on the way back, and then through Victorville. They couldn't go back yesterday since it was close to the evening, and Dad doesn't drive at night anymore. Not great distances, anyway.

I've enjoyed these ten days, the reading I've done, the time spent watching the ice skaters and hockey players at Valencia Ice Station, and the arcade there; the thoughtful walks past the houses of Creekside Valencia, admiring the cookie-cutter patterns (though there is a feeling of home with a few of those balconies and porches), walking the paseo--probably for the last time--that I used to walk when we lived in Valencia, lunch at Five Guys Burgers and Fries, dessert at Menchie's, being awe-inspired by the passion for makeup among the employees at Sephora (and the raw charisma of many of them), and also just walking through a mall that hasn't quite been mine since Waldenbooks closed, but now truly belongs to others. I'm not really a mallrat, but I do love walking through them occasionally, and the malls to be found in Southern Nevada will keep me plenty interested, including that Henderson library branch inside the Henderson Galleria. You cannot find that anywhere else.

If these past few days have turned out to be a farewell to this valley, as I hope they will be, then it was a proper farewell at exactly the right time. I do not feel animosity toward this valley, even with all the frustrations personal and otherwise that I have experienced, but I know that no longer does any part of this valley interest me. Not that much of it did after we moved from the apartment in Valencia to the one in Saugus after that first year, but the views to be seen from the paseo, from the overpass crossing onto the paseo, do not at all compare to the views that can be found in Las Vegas. Finally, I know where I belong, and I intend to get there. This valley belongs to others. I'm going home.

The Run of the House: Day 8

If today is the day that Mom and Dad come home, I'm going to miss the free time I used to have. Not only do I have to dump the books and DVDs I absolutely do not need, but every other space of this apartment needs to be just as clean, other things dumped (including old newspaper clippings with my byline that I don't need), loose drawers and cracks fixed, and this apartment sold by the time we leave for Henderson as residents in August. We bought it outright, so we're hoping to get a good price.

I know, I know, the real estate market is in the crapper and it could be a bad time to sell. But there is a chance. We have one of the few units per block with a garage that opens into the apartment. You roll in during the rare times it rains and you don't have to lug your groceries in through the front door, getting soaked. Just close the garage door and rain be gone and you be dry! Secondly, we have a large patio because we overlook one of the community pools. We're the only unit in this particular block that has that. Plus, we have a gate at the front-door walkway. Big white gate with a lock. No other unit here has that. We've got some advantages.

Yesterday was Mom and Dad's 29th wedding anniversary, so they spent part of it back at our future apartment complex, faxing applications for Meridith and I to fill out, with speakerphone guidance by Mom on what parts to fill out. We didn't need to fill out everything since we're all still going to live together, at least for right now.

Later in the day, into the evening, they went to the Bellagio to see the water show outside the hotel, then had gelato at Cafe Gelato there, and then to Blueberry Hill off the Strip for a snack. I think this was one of the better wedding anniversaries they have, not only because they've been where they had never been before, but because it seems like there was a real sense of celebration to it. That has not always been apparent in past years.

As for Meridith and I, she spent the entire day on her laptop transferring photos from her cell phone to her computer. The phone's memory card is too small for any slot on her laptop and so the process is taking a lot longer than it would with an external drive with that capacity. I think she still has more to do today.

I spent part of yesterday morning blog surfing as I always do, as I will do after this. And that was pretty much the major part of yesterday. Not much reading but I think I'll finish Rick Lax's book today.

The Run of the House: Day 7

The books have changed.

I decided last night that I wasn't as interested right then in Bottom of the 33rd as I thought. I'm now reading Fool Me Once: Hustlers, Hookers, Headliners, and How Not to Get Swindled in Vegas by Rick Lax, and I'm blasting through it like I've been unjustly starved of books for a year. But then, when you're going to love where you live and you want to know everything about it, more than you know already, lots more, you're going to take to these kinds of books. Actually, that's not entirely true, because Lax is a rare breed. He doesn't resort to catchphrases in writing about Las Vegas or possesses an over-caffeinated mind that's spent too much time on the Strip. That is part of his job as a staff writer at Las Vegas Weekly, but his mind goes beyond the immediate Strip, to the people who live and work in its proximity, to the places you don't see automatically like you do the Luxor pyramid, the faux skyline of New York-New York, the castle spires at Excalibur. In fact, he wrote an article last month about things to see beyond the Strip (http://www.lasvegasweekly.com/news/2011/may/19/welcome-other-strip/). I'm already on page 50. I think I'll be done with this one by mid-afternoon and then crave more, which is why I hope my order from Powell's Books containing four books about Las Vegas, including a collection of columns by Las Vegas Review-Journal writer John L. Smith, arrives today.

The week has changed.

It is Monday yet again, a new week yet again. Meridith finished cleaning the front part of her room yesterday, and you can actually walk through it instead of stepping over what has been sitting on the floor for months and possibly years. I consider it indicative of a new start in our lives, though I still have more to do, as Mom told us last night over the phone that we'd have to move basically bare-bones, since there is not a great deal of room in this new apartment. There's more than we have right now, but to make it comfortable, I'm going to have to dump a lot of books, which I don't have a problem with since 80% of those books aren't in my personal collection. I'll only take those I want to read badly, such as H. Paul Jeffers' biography of Diamond Jim Brady, the rest of the Cornbread Nation anthologies (If I haven't read them yet), all of Tessa Hadley's books, and I'll see what else when I sift through the stacks.

And yet, even in a new week, there are a few things that haven't changed. For one, I talked to Dad about 10 minutes ago and he said they're going to have to stay another day, because the mechanic hasn't fully repaired the car yet. He has the parts, but it's been a waiting game with the warranty company and AAA. I told Dad that I hope he and Mom at least do something special for their 29th wedding anniversary. It's today.

What's most interesting about having the run of the house for an entire week is the cycle of chores. The last of last week's tasks was Meridith cleaning the front part of her room. And now the cycle begins again. I have to gather the garbage pails from each of the rooms to put in the kitchen garbage and take out that bag to the garbage bin in the garage, gather the recyclables, dump those into the recycling bin, and roll both bins out to the curb for pickup tomorrow. Because of Memorial Day last Monday, the bins were picked up on Wednesday, but I still rolled them out that Monday just in case the garbage company still decided to do our route on Tuesday, because even with what they tell you on the phone, you can never be sure.

I know I need a shower, but there's one thing already crossed off the list, since I just shaved. I will never, ever, ever, EVER get used to a beard. I tried it when I was in high school and it didn't work then, doesn't work now. I hate that scratchy feeling as the hairs protrude more. It's more bearable after a shave, because at least that fades.

I was thinking about vacuuming around the birds' cages again and near Kitty's cage, because while we were out on Friday and Saturday, she first ripped the stuffing out of her kennel mat (Friday) and then tore out some of the padding (Saturday). It was difficult for the dogs that Mom and Dad have been gone this long, but they've gotten used to it, though because Kitty had been abandoned in the Alaska cold when she was found, she probably thought we weren't coming back, and it was bad enough that Mom and Dad were away, too. We told her every time that we would be back. And of course we came back. And she acted like she hadn't done anything to her mat and just wanted to have someone throw her tennis ball. An angel again. As to the vacuuming, I'll hold off until Tuesday, because it would be best to have it vacuumed close to when Mom and Dad are supposed to get home.

I don't think the chores will be as heavy this week since they'll need some recovery time after the first week that any of us have spent in Las Vegas. It's been 2-3 days at a shot; never this long. As long as they're sufficiently recovered by Friday, because I need the PT Cruiser trunk to bring the rest of my books back to the library, all 36. It's doubtful that we'll be living here much longer (Therefore making it over 7 and nearly 3/4 years and no more), but god forbid we end up here a little longer, I'm switching my library card and the other library cards over to the Stevenson Ranch Express branch, which is either a bookmobile or a small building, based on what I've heard. I am not signing up for a new card in the new system. I will not support such a disappointing venture.

Anyway, this whole experience reminds me of the second time that Mom and Dad flew to Southern California from South Florida, without us that time. They were there for another 10 days, though as Meridith reminded me, that's all the time they had intended to be there. There were no extensions like there had been now. Yet, on that trip, they had found an apartment that Meridith and I only first saw when we had moved there, and Dad had had a job interview at La Mesa Junior High that turned into a job. Same as now. Well, not the job part yet, but as Dad said on the phone this morning, maybe the charter school will call today, decision made, and ask him to come down to sign the contract. Now wouldn't that be a way to celebrate a wedding anniversary!

The Run of the House: Day 6 - I've Never Seen a Library So Serious and Forbidding

Because of the County of Los Angeles library system, I discovered Charles Bukowski, and spent a Saturday in our apartment in Valencia that first year reading Notes of a Dirty Old Man by mid-afternoon sunlight filtered through my dusty blinds slightly above my bed. Because of it, I discovered Quentin Crisp, who became one of my heroes, and taught me through his writings that to be yourself is the only way to live and any other way is wasteful. I discovered The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro, The Music of Your Life by John Rowell, and This Book Will Save Your Life by A.M. Homes, and all affected me so deeply that they all eventually became part of my collection.

The one book I am proud to have as a memento of the County of Los Angeles library system, not only in light of the loss to come from the City of Santa Clarita taking control of the Valencia library and the three other branches within city limits but also after we move to Nevada, is Subways are for Sleeping by Edmund G. Love, a chronicle from 1957 about resourceful homeless people living in New York City who make their day-to-day lives work. I had this book all throughout my time at College of the Canyons, checking it out constantly, shunning math homework in the cafeteria at a table in the back in favor of reading it again. I think I got more out of those two-and-a-half years of education from that book than from any class, though I did have some decent teachers. This book had come from the Norwalk branch of the County system, and when it came time to return it yet again, I didn't. It had been with me all throughout my time at COC. It belonged with me. So I told them that I had found out after we had gotten back to Santa Clarita from Las Vegas that it must have dropped out of the car at a rest stop on the way back (Not true), and I gladly paid $34: $29 for the book and a $5 processing fee. It will be an honor when I finally have bookshelves, and can place it among the other books I love.

Meridith and I went to the library yesterday to return a few books, ahead of returning the rest next week. Well, mine, actually. She returned every book on her card except one by Meg Cabot. It's appropriate that the last book on her card should be that, since she's a huge Meg Cabot fan. I returned 14 books, and still have 36 to return.

After getting The Wall Street Journal Weekend from Pavilions, and smoothies from Jamba Juice (I got a PB&J one with banana; Meridith got Blue Gummy Bear), we decided we were not going to go anywhere else until we dropped off these books. Heavy bags do not make for an enjoyable day, and so we started walking from the heart of Valencia to the library, past the mall, and fortunately, our shoulders remained where they should be after we were finally able to put down the bags and get the books checked in.

It was a sorry sight at the library. They had called on Friday and left a message to say that the two books I had put on hold would be available until 6 p.m. that day. Normally, when I had a huge number of books on hold, even those holds that I cancelled remained on the shelf not only because they were so many, but because they figured that I would eventually take care of it. Or they just didn't care to look because of the 34 books waiting for me on those shelves (34's just one number at one time. It's sometimes slightly higher). Because of the transfer of these libraries to the City of Santa Clarita, I knew they had to be serious about that deadline, but I figured that since they knew me, maybe they would let those books sit there, knowing that I would be there on Saturday. I couldn't get there on Friday because there was no car and we weren't in Valencia. Our radius was the Ralphs and McDonald's in the shopping center on McBean Parkway, extending out past Meridith's old high school, to the Ice Station, then to the Italian sub place and back. We weren't going to go to the library twice.

Walking into the library, I saw that they were serious. All the holds had been cleared from the shelves, sent back. Such a sad sight seeing so many empty shelves. That's not what a library should be, but that's what this library is, coupled with the self-checkout machines having been turned off. LSSI, the corporate outfit that's going to run these libraries for the City of Santa Clarita, has to do inventory, put new barcodes on the books, and are they going to buy these self-checkout machines from the County of Los Angeles, too? Not only that, but are they at work on a new online library catalog? LSSI is an outsourcing company for those within a city who can't do their own work to make a library function. I don't care what their intentions are, but being that this is an outfit primarily based on the east coast, they cannot know this valley as well as the librarians who had been in place already do. But this is how it is, being that no member of the City Council has a library card. They just want to save money by isolating this valley even further. I care less and less as the weeks go on, being that I'll eventually be living where people remain connected, where there's no such isolation. Henderson may have its own library system comprised of five branches, but at least it's run by the city. It's not been outsourced like this. Boulder City may be all the way in the back, but that one library is part of the Clark County system.

Even so, books should not be treated like this. A library should not look this barren. Months before, the option to buy books gradually faded. The books from those shelves and the turnstile shelves lessened, and soon enough, there was nothing left. Most of the books weren't worth it for me, but at least there was the opportunity to see what your fellow residents read by what they donated. Not anymore.

These three Santa Clarita libraries will close from June 18 to July 1, or so they claim, but one of the librarians said that they'll probably open back up after July 4th. That long without a library? I have no problem with that since I've built up a partial library with all the books I've bought online to read, though not in anticipation of this. But for others, this is inexcusable. A library should be always be accessible, not susceptible to the whims of an inept City Council and certainly not a for-profit company. Certainly checking out books free of charge remains, but libraries should never be monetized. I found an article just now about LSSI:

http://www.libraryjournal.com/article/CA456252.html

To me, this sounds like an instance of the City Council not wanting to figure out how to save the libraries on their own, and fobbing it off on a company that does not even know this valley, so they don't have to think about it any further. I wish my years with the Valencia library had not ended this way. I will keep track of what's going on with these libraries after I've become a resident of (likely) Henderson, Nevada, but only this aspect of the Santa Clarita Valley will continue to interest me. Nothing else. I say that now, but then once I have my Henderson library card and my Clark County library card, I may forget about all else after I've spotted the Nevada and Las Vegas history sections, learning what I really want to learn.

Ok, rant over.

Meridith and I left the library after returning the books and making our canvas tote bags significantly lighter, and walked the paseo paths that go past the car dealerships and to where the bike paths and walking paths are, to look out at all the trees that sit on the land that used to be a river. A lot of it is dry and cracked, but a lot more has grown there since we last saw it.

Then back through the paseo paths, to the Valencia Town Center Mall, from the food court to the second floor, past the Disney Store, outside to where the relatively new shops are, including Williams-Sonoma, which we tackled after lunch, because lunch was very necessary, especially lunch at Five Guys. Meridith had a bacon and cheese hot dog, and I had a cheese veggie sandwich, with mushrooms, grilled onions, pickles, tomatoes, mustard, and barbecue sauce. And of course their fries. You cannot eat at Five Guys without having their fries. It should be a law. And I want to know where they get their peanuts because I'd like to find the unsalted kind. The ones I got from Ralphs about a month ago were disappointing.

After Five Guys, where I also noticed that there's a publication called Florida Monthly that I unfortunately never knew about even with all the years I lived in Florida (The clip from the magazine they put up on the wall says "Since 1981")--though I did find the website after we got home--we went to Menchi's, where I found only two decent frozen yogurt flavors in peanut butter cup and pistachio. The red velvet flavor didn't taste close to red velvet and they really need to improve the vanilla and chocolate flavors. While we were eating our frozen yogurt, weighed down by all the toppings we had put on, I joked with Meridith that with all the sample cups we had had, we could have just left afterward.

Then we went to Sephora, where Meridith wanted to find a certain nail polish that you paint over the nail polish you have on, and it gives it a cracked look. She had wanted it ever since she saw it at the Disney store next to the El Capitan Theatre after seeing Pirates 4, and found it there. If you ever want to see one store where the employees have a great love for makeup of all kinds, that's where you go.

Williams-Sonoma was next, and the one thing I find disappointing is that despite the love they promote for cooking, they never stock any culinary memoirs. It's probably not the place to find Anthony Bourdain's books, but there are so many other good ones that should be on shelves next to the cookbooks. I understand that the point of Williams-Sonoma is to find different gadgets and pans and sauces and anything else you want to cook what you want, but reading about the experiences of cooking is equally interesting. However, at $24.95 for some books, I probably wouldn't buy those books there anyway, which may be why they don't stock them.

We walked back through the mall, with a stop at the restrooms near the food court, and then out to where the Edwards Valencia 12 is, to see what was left of Borders. Nothing. The sign was taken down, the inside windows were boarded up, and that was it. I've no sadness for it going out of business because they sold books entirely the wrong way. Barnes & Noble is all about books, and the feeling you get inside is one of wanting to read, to explore everything you can find. Borders just happens to sell books.

We also stopped in at the arcade next to the movie theater, played air hockey, and tried to win a plush Pac-Man from one of the claw machines. The claw on that one never goes down where you position it. It stretches to the side. Two dollars gone, but thankfully it was only two dollars. Meridith wanted to keep trying, but I told her, "That's how Las Vegas makes money," and we left.

Back to our old apartment to peek through the windows and see that it was empty, with stuff left by the previous owners (including two floor fans), and that was it. We got on the bus at the stop in front of Target and eventually, we were home and thoroughly worn out because this was the second day in a row that we had done more walking than we do even in a week. Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune were the order of the evening, along with a smaller dinner since we had eaten so much during the day. I had thought about beginning to read The Wall Street Journal Weekend, but I decided to save it until today. We're staying home today, it's quiet all around, and it's the perfect time for it.

Out in Henderson, I just got the news from Mom that the job listing Dad had responded to from the charter school on the Las Vegas Review-Journal website was taken down, so Dad may very well get a call soon. They're also looking at apartments again today and found some very nice ones. The one they're looking at again today is two bedrooms with two bathrooms, a living room, and a kitchen. I'm not sure if there is a dining room, too, but the plan for that one is to turn the living room into another bedroom for me, since Mom said she'd never make me and Meridith share a room. Or maybe it was the dining room. I hope so, because we need a living room. The apartment complex they were at also has a fitness center, a tennis court (Meridith's psyched about that), and lots of grass and trees for the dogs. She doesn't want them doing their business on rocks, and Tigger hated that during our first trip to Las Vegas when we stayed at America's Best Value Inn. Having grass for them is the biggest concern. We'll work through the rest.

It's possible that they may leave Nevada tomorrow, although they should spend a bit of time somewhere, since it will be their wedding anniversary. But as it stands, this will be the longest time any of us have been there, and from what we can see, it wil have been the most beneficial because we're so much closer to a true home, the kind that will make me proud to say that Nevada is my home state, and (probably) Henderson my home town. Life as it should be lived.

It Doesn't Feel Like a Coincidence

Normally, I'd save details like these for the next morning, as has been the case the past few mornings (Except for tomorrow morning, since I may post later than usual, being that I got a movie called "Jolene" from Netflix that I've been curious about for a while, and since a movie this morning wasn't possible because of the dogs being picked up to be groomed, tomorrow morning will be it, also because I just got in the mail from Amazon Auntie Mame and Sweeney Todd, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn), but this should be known now. Three times in one day cannot be just a coincidence.

The plan today was for Meridith and I to go to the library, but first to stop at Pavilions to see if they had my Wall Street Journal Weekend, and then to Jamba Juice for smoothies to have on the long walk to the library from that part of Valencia. We found my newspaper at Pavilions. $2.19 there, 19 cents tax, instead of $2.20, 20 cents tax at the newsstand. No big difference, and when I can get there, I like the newsstand more anyway.

I looked at the stories above the fold as always, and also finding out that the Off Duty section had a write-up and recipes about the best burgers. Below the fold, I was stunned at the article at the bottom. The headline is "Residents of Old Mining Town Want Gold to Star in Them Thar Hills." The sub-heading says, "In a Nevada Historic District, Tourism Prospectors Don't Dig Plans for a Real Open Pit". The dateline is "VIRGINIA CITY, Nev." At the time we were at Pavilions, Mom and Dad were looking for viable apartments. No news yet on the result of the job interview, but it will take some time. And if it does happen, we want to make sure we have pinpointed where we would want to live, what's good for Mom and Dad. Better now than rushing through it like we used to and ending up where we didn't benefit, like here, right now.

About 20 minutes ago, we got home and there was a box from Amazon at the door, containing those aforementioned DVDs. The return address is Fernley, Nevada.

When I started writing this entry, I looked again at the paper, and pulled out the Off Duty section to see what burgers and recipes were profiled. On page D2, one of the burgers is called "House-Ground Steak Burger". The introduction to the recipe begins: "Chef Bradley Ogden of the namesake restaurant in Las Vegas..."

These are not coincidences. These are strong signs. It's going to take a little more time, but the good and the great that we have waited for in our lives is going to come. I'm ready for true happiness.

The Run of the House: Day 5

In and near Las Vegas, within a day or two, fantasy gives way to reality. If you gamble big, you might lose big. Or your vacation ends and you have to go back to wherever your house is. Or, in my case, time to get to know another potential place to put my stuff.

Mom and Dad decided not to pursue that condo (house, I know) in Boulder City for three reasons: First, there are some cracks they saw that we would likely have to have repaired. Secondly, the walls of the house have some kind of design we have in Florida that Mom apparently didn't like, though I don't know what kind, since I wasn't really paying attention during that part of the conversation with her on the phone, though Meridith was listening. I was really tired at that point in the evening, having not stopped moving the entire day. Third: condo. That means that whatever might have to be repaired there, we shoulder the cost. That's the same as here in Saugus. Mom and Dad don't want that anymore because we had enough of that experience mostly with the plumbing and though part of it was covered by dint of using whomever was in the home warranty plan (All useless because they didn't actually fix the problem and we had to go to someone else and hope that they would do the work required), we still had to pay. There was enough hassle with that, and an apartment would be better because whatever needs to be fixed, there's no cost. I liked the condo, the balcony, the space that would have allowed me to finally put in bookshelves. But there's also another consideration: It was right near the highway in Boulder City. There were no supermarkets, no daily-living stores around that we would need. To get there, we'd have to drive some. We do that already from Saugus to Valencia, and we want to be connected to somewhere, not isolated.

I wasn't as broken up about losing that porch-like balcony and that space, because of where Meridith and I had been yesterday. My plans had been simply to put Mom and Dad's bedsheets in the wash, shower, and wash the dog's bowls. I figured we would stay home yesterday because we planned to go out today. One day would seem to be enough. But Mom was on the phone with us in the late morning, telling us that we should do something. And considering the dust I encountered with sweeping out the garage, and the usual crud that gets tracked into the house that was sucked up into the vacuum when I did Mom and Dad's room and the hallway that connects my room and Meridith's room, I could have used some fresher air. And that's what I got after Mom said that we should go to that Italian sub sandwich place to get two of them for later, especially since the free sub that she was to get would still stand. They had made four sandwiches for us last time, but one of them was the wrong one. Not that they made it wrong, but someone else had ordered it for us and they put it into our bag, so Mom called them the next day and was told that we'd get a free small sub next time because of it.

We started out at 11:50, since the bus would come at around 12:01 p.m. I brought the anthology Man with a Pan with me, but ended up not reading a lot of it throughout the day. I still like to have a book with me, and it'll be easier today when we go to the library, because I'll have my bag with me, so I can put it in there.

Our first stop was the bank, because we had an assortment of nickels, dimes, and quarters to be turned into $31.50, and I had to deposit my latest paycheck into the ATM machine. Meridith also had to get some cash out of there from her and Mom's account.

Next was lunch at McDonald's. I had forgotten that it was Friday, thought that it was Thursday, and tried to order the 20-piece Chicken McNugget special, which came with two medium drinks and two medium fries. I figured that if I wanted more fries after that, my brain would pipe up with, "You've had enough. Get up and start walking, fatass." The two medium drinks would have been useful because Meridith needed one, so that was taken care of without having to order another one.

But since it was Friday, after we had ordered what I thought was the special and a Quarter Pounder with cheese and bacon for Meridith, I had to order two medium drinks and a large fry, which we both shared, and which was enough. Later, I was keen on part of the peach pie they have now (It's a lot better than their apple pie), and Meridith wanted to try a Rolo McFlurry. So I split the peach pie with Meridith and ended up finishing off the McFlurry. Nothing to worry about, since we had a lot of walking ahead of us.

We started at the intersection near the Ralphs we were going to later and passed the senior housing, 1 and 2 bedrooms available, as the sign says. Then we crossed another intersection because we'd get right to the intersection near Meridith's old high school, Valencia High, and we wouldn't have to cross the street a second time. But I was taken by rows of houses, collectively called Creekside Valencia, and I was entranced, and wondering why we didn't move here. There was a pattern to the houses, you'd see the same design of a balcony railing three or four times, but it was so peaceful, and there was an out-in-the-country feeling about it, away from the traffic in Valencia, away from what usually frustrates people about this kind of life, what wouldn't be healthy for any other creature but one residing in Southern California who doesn't notice it all that much. I was miffed by the number of SUVs that passed us as we walked by these houses, looking at those porches, imagining rocking chairs of our choosing there, of just looking out at the scenery, relaxing, reading, whatever we'd want to do that would contribute to the peacefulness of the area for us. SUVs and soccer moms, I get that for reasons of temporary storage and how many kids can be stacked into it, but all the time? Some choice.

On our way out, we found a cluster of benches surrounded by plants, including a big round pot on a square pedestal and the dirt seemed to have a mix of sand. It was nicer than the benches that were near our old apartment behind the shopping center that includes Pavilions and Peet's Coffee and Tea.

As we passed Meridith's old high school, I pointed out the auditorium we had seen her perform at with the orchestra and she said she had pretty much faked her way through the entire performance, since she wasn't entirely sure of the notes for the music they played. I told her that she would make a perfect Southern Californian then, if we had stayed any longer, like years longer, and thank god that's not happening.

Past the parking lot that faces the various sports fields on the campus, I noticed the building across the street from the school that contains ice skating rinks and hockey rinks. It's called Ice Station, and I figured that here we were, and we should take advantage of it, see what's going on. I thought we would have to pay to get in, but that's not the case, only when games are going on. The most you'd have to pay for is skate rentals on days like that one. But we had no intention of doing that.

We went in, not so much winded from the walk, but pretty warm from it with the slight heat during the day and the wind that had been blowing steadily, and went upstairs where they have an arcade. We first went to where hockey players were practicing, and then to the ice skating rink where many people were skating. It wasn't that cold for us because of the walk, but in an ice skating rink, you definitely notice the temperature change, but it was a relief, and I imagine that Ice Station will have a lot of visitors during the summer, or whatever's left of the summer when the temperature decides to go up because it's not as hot as previous Junes have been.

I loved the arcade. There was an air hockey table, so Meridith and I had to do that (It has become her favorite air hockey table, because there's multi-colored lights that spin on the top whenever someone scores a goal, and she scored nearly all the goals and won), and they had a machine with Ms. Pac Man and Galaga, but Galaga only for me. It's not played that much because I finished with a score of 56,000+ and I ended up in 2nd place on the "Galactic Heroes" high score board. Meridith took a picture on her phone.

The restrooms are the nicest-smelling and the cleanest in all of Santa Clarita. And the faucets, when you push the top down, actually remain on for a few seconds. It's not like you push it down and then a second later, it shuts off. That's not easily found around here.

Then the Italian sub place, a cold cut sub for Meridith and a vegetarian sub for me, and then back to Ralphs, but not before stopping at Creekside Valencia for a second time, and sitting on one of those benches and just taking in that blessed peace. Rare are those moments in Santa Clarita when you feel completely at peace. That was one of them.

Ralphs was a great pleasure because Dad wasn't with us. He strives to rush us through the store every single time, questioning what we need, and usually with a look that says he wants to leave already, even though we just got into the store and we need a few things. This time, I only needed bananas because I had run out, we needed another gallon of water for the dogs because the only one we had was running low, and I wanted to see if Blue Diamond almond milk in that aseptic container was still available. It was, at 2 for $4, but I settled on one, and decided to try the original this time, though I'm very much attached to the vanilla flavor.

Then back to McDonald's to get a plain double cheeseburger and a small fry for Tigger and Kitty for later, but since we had gotten to McDonald's at 4:40, and the bus wasn't coming until 5:56, we had some time. So I ordered a frozen strawberry lemonade for Meridith, heavy on the strawberry syrup, and a Reese's McFlurry for me. That's my once-in-a-while McFlurry, because once in a while is enough. I had some time to read as well, so I skimmed through the Southern California Gaming Guide that I had picked up at Ralphs and read a bit of my book.

We got home, and I was bushed. But we had more to contend with because Kitty, not happy at us having gone out and certainly not with Mom and Dad still not home, ripped all the stuffing out of the kennel mat we keep in her cage. I didn't know there was that much Shamrock Shake-colored stuffing inside that mat. It filled up most of the white garbage bag I put it in.

The mat is completely flat now, but we're putting it back in because she needs something in there (The only other option is that nothing goes in there), and we're hoping that she doesn't do anything else to it.

There was some time on the phone with Mom afterward that led right into dinner, since we had put the sandwiches from the Italian sub place in the fridge to get colder, and then in went the bedsheets and the pillows into the wash, and I decided to wash the dog's bowls. Better then, after they had had their cheeseburger and fries.

After all that, I didn't quite feel like a zombie, but I think I was getting there. I started Bottom of the 33rd by Dan Barry, but didn't get too far into it yet, and TV was limited to that evening's episodes of Jeopardy! and Wheel of Fortune. I didn't have the desire for anything else.

Right now, the dogs are being groomed by Shannon, who picks them up and brings them back. I've got to figure out what library books I'm going to return today, enough so that I have less to return during the week, and I've also got to write a list of those books so I can look for them after we move to Vegas and I sign up for library cards in Henderson and with the Clark County system. Those are the ones I want to start with, as a link from Santa Clarita to Las Vegas, and then I can burn that bridge with each book.

Oh! One more thing that didn't really fit with anything here: Mom and Dad had quite a busy day yesterday, going to Chinatown, driving the Strip, keeping tabs on the PT Cruiser, but while they were on the Strip, just before the Wynn Hotel, Steve Wynn's Rolls-Royce cut them off. They weren't sure if Steve Wynn himself was in it, but his driver sure was, and it was definitely Wynn's Rolls-Royce, because the license plate said "WYNN1". Mom tried to get a picture, but her cell phone wasn't acting right in that moment. Even so, only in Vegas. And more evidence that that's where I want to be.

The Wall Street Journal Weekend: Maybe, Maybe Not.

Because Mom and Dad are in Las Vegas, if Meridith and I want to go anywhere, we have to take the bus. This morning, Mom suggested that we go to Ralphs if we need anything (I ran out of bananas, and I want to see if that aseptic carton of almond milk is still on sale), and to that Italian sub place that's right by Meridith's old high school, and to pick up a cheesburger (regular) and a small french fry for Tigger and Kitty from McDonald's.

My plans were different. I was going to wash the dog's bowls and the tray they sit on, take a shower, and put Mom and Dad's bedsheets and pillowcases in the wash and then with Meridith, put them back on the bed. That was it. I have books. I'm fine. In fact, ahead of having to return all my library books next week, I've pinpointed three books I want so badly to read before that horrid day happens: Fool Me Once: Hustlers, Hookers, Headliners and How Not to Get Screwed in Vegas by Rick Lax; Bottom of the 33rd: Hope, Redemption, and Baseball's Longest Game by Dan Barry; and Miles: The Autobiography by Miles Davis with Quincy Troupe. These three are going straight to the top of my immediate reading list. These will be my weekend reading, or as much as I can read tomorrow when we're off to the library to return some books so we don't have as much to return by next Friday (the absolute deadline to return everything), Jamba Juice, the Valencia Town Center mall, Sprouts, Pavilions, and whatever else we can think of while we're there.

I've no objection to today's plans. After the dogs have their cheeseburger and french fries with some of their usual dinner, I'll wash the bowls then. And I'll put Mom and Dad's linens in the wash on Sunday. That's simple enough. Plus, I just took a shower. So I'm covered.

But one part of my Saturday routine might or might not be, my copy of The Wall Street Journal Weekend. We're taking the bus down to Valencia tomorrow and our first stop will be Pavilions, because Meridith suggested that they might have it there. I usually go to the newsstand near Kmart, because they not only have it, but what looks like nearly every magazine ever published, and I like to browse when I'm there. It's not as important anymore because the magazines I used to look at I now subscribe to.

So if Pavilions doesn't have it, then we have to do some thinking. We'll go to the library, but it's a little bit of a hike to get the newsstand. Yet, we parked at the now-shuttered Do-It Center (It was a much smaller Home Depot without the trappings of a chain) when the Food Truck Festival was going on and walked almost that length to get to the first car dealership where three food trucks were parked (It was going on to celebrate the revitalized Auto Row (what I call it), which had been refurbished, with plants at the curb, cleaner sidewalks, etc. This is the big happening in this valley. Now you see why I'm craving Las Vegas more and more).

It didn't take me long to read last week's Wall Street Journal Weekend and circle the book titles that interested me in the "Review" section. About an hour, I'd say. It usually takes longer. Do I really need it this weekend? I'd like it this weekend, just like every other weekend, and we won't be hauling any books from the library, the first time since we moved here seven years ago, but it depends on what else we do, if we buy anything that would have to be refrigerated (unlikely), and where we are physically by the time we get to that point (There's going to be a lot of walking). I think I'd be a little disappointed if I didn't have it, but not broken up, because when they do finally come home, Mom and Dad will have with them last week's issue of Las Vegas Weekly and this week's, and a few editions of the Las Vegas Review-Journal for me. That's all I wanted from Vegas. I wanted real reading material from my future hometown, and I'm getting it. I think that makes up for possibly not having The Wall Street Journal Weekend this weekend a million times over. Like I've said before, I only skim through the L.A. Weekly and The Signal because there's nothing that interests me, and the writing in The Signal is reliably atrocious. To read the Las Vegas Weekly cover to cover and read nearly everything in the Review-Journal (I skip the AP articles)? I'll take it!

The Run of the House: Day 4 - I Understand Now

To the right of the dining room table, we've got a white stand which has a black box on top of it, a Grace Wireless Internet Radio. You can get any station you want, anything that interests you when you're not on a computer. Over the past three, four years that we've had it (Time becomes distorted enough in Southern California that what you think may have happened four years ago may actually have happened two years ago, and vice-versa), we've had only Las Vegas stations on, in anticipation of some day moving there, and the hope faded as they years went on, up until now.

The station that's been on the most has been KJUL 104.7. During the school year, with Dad and Meridith at work, Mom and I have had it on during lunch, and for some hours after lunch. They've got the Beatles, Barbra Streisand, Barry Manilow, Tom Jones, Elvis Presley, Paul Anka, Sammy Davis, Jr., Bobby Darin, Frank Sinatra, The Carpenters, Anne Murray, Linda Ronstadt, Glen Campbell, and others. A good line-up. But imagine hearing those same songs every single day. Some are my favorites, such as "Wichita Lineman," but Sammy Davis Jr.'s "I've Gotta Be Me" for the 24th day in a row? Please; anything else but that! Haven't they got "The Candy Man" in their computers? I could handle that for a bit longer.

For Mom, KJUL has helped her keep hope that we'll become residents of Las Vegas one day. For me, I wanted to find any other station that had never heard of any of these singers. Sunny 106.5 in Vegas would be fine, except that what KJUL does in repeating those songs, Sunny does the same thing. And I don't need to hear "I Don't Want to Wait" by Paula Cole twice in one day.

Yesterday, I understood Mom's need to hope for that better day. I have the same hope, but up until their trip to Vegas, I didn't have the same flame. Mine was set lower. Sure, I wanted to be there, I wanted to live as I should, but I needed to do my research for my next books, to read, to keep my sanity while I lived in Santa Clarita. Living just to survive.

Every late Thursday afternoon, into the early evening, from 5-7 p.m., KJUL's morning host, Scott Gentry, presides over Table for Two, a dining deal in which you order off their menu wherever they are, and Gentry and KJUL pays for your guests. "You buy one, I'll buy one; you buy two, I'll buy two," Gentry always says over the radio during the week and on the day.

Gentry was at the re-opening of the Grand Cafe at Sunset Station, and for the rest of June, that's where he'll be. The menu for the deal has meatloaf, Philly cheese steak, roasted lemon herb chicken, and turkey dinner. Only the Philly cheese steak comes with fries; the rest have mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables. Mom had the roasted lemon herb chicken, exactly what I would have ordered if I had been there. Dad had the Philly cheese steak.

For Mom, it was a lot more than she could ever have imagined. Even more than the hope she always had. She said it was the first time in years that she had had decent chicken (Santa Clarita's not well known for good meat of any kind in the supermarkets, though sometimes you can find it at Sprouts, but not often, because of the prices they push), but the highlight for her was meeting Scott Gentry. Meridith showed me the pictures Mom sent to her cell phone, and I saw the one Dad sent me by e-mail. Gentry looks exactly as he sounds. He's a tall, permanently amiable man, the voice and soul of the Las Vegas that belongs to residents. He told Mom and Dad that on their radio board in the studio, they can see where people are listening from, and they see us often on there. It's been so long since I've heard Mom that happy, but when you finally get away from the Santa Clarita Valley for a time, your happiness explodes into outer space. She and Dad drove through the Strip later that evening, and she was taking pictures like she was a brand-new tourist. She told Meridith that they have a Checkers, just like the ones we had in Florida, and that the chocolate milk we like so much that we found at the Wal-Mart Supercenter here (I've forgotten the name right now, but it tasted a lot more natural and richer than what we've always had) is there in half-gallon containers. We've always gotten it in the pint bottles because that's all they've had.

The inspector that's supposed to assess how much the insurance company will pay for the car repairs still hasn't shown up, so there's a chance they may still be in Vegas until Monday if he or she doesn't appear today. Yet it gives Mom and Dad more time to explore, and they've got a decent rental, a blue Kia Soul. The last time we had one, in orange, when our PT Cruiser was being repaired by that lack of a mechanic next to Kmart, Dad liked driving it, and they found it at Enterprise, and the guy told Mom and Dad to have a look at it. They like it a lot better than the jeep's bastard child that they had driven the other day. And it's a lot cleaner.

Mom got teary over the phone last night, though, when she realized that had we boarded the dogs and Meridith and I had gone with them, we wouldn't have been home right now to take care of the birds (Mr. Chips and Gizmo) and their food might have run out. Because of this, we'll have to find someone to take care of the birds, too, when we're in Vegas next, just as a precaution. But other than that, she's been very happy, completely satisfied, and I would be as well if I was there, but better that she has it right now. She's needed that more than I do.

Yesterday was the busiest day for me, moreso than when I swept the entire patio. It started with vacuuming Mom and Dad's bedroom and bathroom, the hallway that connects my room and Meridith's room, and our bathroom. Both bathrooms here are carpeted, and I had intended to vacuum Mom and Dad's room, as Dad had asked, after we had put new litter in Mr. Chips and Gizmo's cages, but we had to get to that Ocean Nails Spa in enough time before it closed for the evening so Meridith could get her nails done.

After the vacuuming, my jackets and Meridith's jackets went in the laundry. Then all those were hung up (For about a year and a half now, maybe two years, they've established residency on the back of our chairs in the dining room. All of them), and bedsheets and pillowcases went into the laundry. We figured that Mom and Dad had clean bedsheets at Hawthorne Suites, so we should have some, too. It was funny when we were on the phone with Mom last night, and she said that we should do the linens, because she and Dad did not want to think about that when they got home. Meridith and I looked at each other, because that's exactly what we did, but our own, because we did not want to wash the linens from Mom and Dad's bed, being that their bed is a lot bigger than ours. But later, Meridith said that she'll help me put those linens back on. That's one of today's tasks.

But before the laundry, I swept the garage. I hate the dust and the particles in there that have built up all these years, but as another parental request, it had to be done. And I finally finished reading White House Diary by Jimmy Carter. I can't do much more research for my books with the books I've checked out from the library, being that I've got to return a majority of them this weekend, or at least what I can carry, since nothing else can be checked out from the Valencia library on Saturday, and everything has to go back by next Friday. I did learn of an "express library" that opened in Stevenson Ranch, that has shorter hours, a limited selection of books and DVDs, but they do allow you to pick up holds, so I could switch my County of Los Angeles library card to that branch. But we'll see what happens in the next few weeks, because I might not need that library card anymore. I could be applying for a Henderson library card in due time.

I don't mind returning these books. I have a three-volume biography of Richard Nixon that I bought, in fact, many books pertaining to the Nixon administration; one volume of a Bill Clinton biography; My Life, Bill Clinton's autobiography, books about post-presidential lives, one book entirely containing presidential anecdotes, and I'll have to see what else is in that stack of books. That'll suit me until we move.

Yesterday, I felt like I never stopped moving. That broom kept moving in the garage, and I used the happy-face dust pan to sweep up into a white garbage bag leaves and rock particles and lint. The jackets went into the laundry and were eventually hung up. The bedsheets and pillow cases went in, and I hopped about both sides of my bed, making sure those sheets were in tight. I finished White House Diary and I transcribed what I needed to into that Word file. Actually, by the time I began to transcribe from my notes, I was dead tired. I didn't think I could get through it, but I pushed myself and then finally went to bed at my usual time, between 11:05 and 11:20. When I woke up this morning, my clock confirmed that I had been more tired than usual. Wednesday morning, I woke up at 7:01. Yesterday morning, 7:05. This morning, 7:45.

Most important to me was that I felt my own sense of satisfaction. The chores that were done were part of it, but the majority was from also finishing Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing. I've moved on to Man with a Pan, an anthology of essays about men who cook for their families, including Stephen King. And after that, probably Cornbread Nation 2: The United States of Barbecue. I'll take it for now, but just like Mom being excited to meet Scott Gentry and to really see Las Vegas from a truly future resident's point of view, I can't wait to do the same, in combining my love for reading and writing with my love for Las Vegas. That will be life worth living.

The Run of the House: Day 3

Dad told us part of the full story yesterday before he went for part two of his job interview at the charter school: It would be three to five days before the PT Cruiser is repaired, I'm guessing because the parts aren't as readily available, being that Chrysler doesn't make the car anymore.

Mom told us the rest of the story last night: AAA wanted to leave them at the side of the road to make their own way back after the PT Cruiser was towed. The tow truck driver did not agree, and drove them back to Fiesta Henderson. Neither did the woman at AAA, who said she would consult with her boss about that. We now have a contact at AAA there, and Meridith and I learned that the guidebooks you get from AAA are in a vending machine there. Inside, there's guidebooks for the states surrounding Nevada, and a large map of the United States.

It's been an eventful stay for them thus far. At Fiesta Henderson, Mom had to call downstairs again to get someone to fix the toilet and the showerhead. The former keeps running, and the latter drips for a long time after Dad gets out of the shower at night, and that makes it hard for Mom to sleep. But, there have been some decent things that have happened to them that have built up their faith that this trip has been worth it. For one, the second part of Dad's job interview went well. The kids were impressed, and so were the higher-ups. The highest higher-up at that school is going to speak to the head honcho at the school in Reno about Dad. It's going to take some more time, which means he won't be signing a contract while he's there. The school understands that because of our distance from Las Vegas in Santa Clarita, Dad can't go back for nothing, so hopefully the next phone call or e-mail from them after he gets back will be the one we've wanted for so long. The head of the school also introduced Dad to the other teachers at lunch and left him to talk to them and ask any questions he wanted.

The owner of the repair shop where the car is being fixed is from Paramus, New Jersey, just like Dad. He said to Mom and Dad that a lot of people living in Henderson are from the East. I like that, because we take our sensibilities from wherever we're from over on that side of the country, and we combine it with the day-to-day experiences of living in a true desert. The physical aspects of the desert, I mean, not emotional ones, because for me, Las Vegas, Henderson, Boulder City, they have everything I could possibly want. There's a writers' group in Henderson, there's the Henderson JCC, the Pinball Hall of Fame is fairly close by, and the libraries in Henderson and Boulder City are so accessible! I don't have to worry that my local library is going to cut itself off from one big system at the whim of a City Council and isolate itself as one tinier branch. Henderson operates on its own, separate from the Clark County system, but at least it has an incredible number of books, and five branches to boot, not just three, as it will be in Santa Clarita.

So we also have a contact at that repair shop whenever our car has any problems. And we have a contact at Hawthorne Suites in Henderson, which was spurred on by the Fiesta Henderson raising its rate for Mom and Dad's room after three days. They can't afford $110 a night, nor the $70 the manager said they could do. Having money for moving is optimal.

Hawthorn Suites is close to Fiesta Henderson, but has many more advantages that are necessary for Mom and Dad, and then for us. For one, you don't have to walk through a casino to get to your room. That's standard for hotels with casinos, especially on the Strip. I know. But for us, future residents, we need our room immediately after a long day of doing whatever will have to be done on the next trip. It has a complimentary breakfast buffet every morning, free local and long-distance calls, free Internet, a free gym, and crucial to us: Pets are allowed. Plus, there's washers and dryers there, and Mom said she's going to use a lot of quarters when they get there, because there's much laundry to be done after these three days. And each room has a microwave, refrigerator, a flat-screen TV, and a DVD player. We should just live there. No doubt we will until Mom and Dad have signed for wherever we live next. We hope it'll be that house in Boulder City.

After that half-hour conversation that lasted until 9:15 (I kept an eye on the clock because I still had to finish my work on the computer), Mom called after 10 and said that she and Dad were back from downstairs at the casino and hadn't won any big jackpots. I told her that the big jackpot for us would be Dad being hired at that school and us taking ownership of that house. That's all we need. She also told us that the manager at the car repair place said that he hopes to be done with the PT Cruiser by Saturday. They have a rental from Enterprise that Mom says is the dirtiest car she's ever seen. It looks like the bastard child of a jeep because the grille mimics the front of a jeep. It has Utah plates, so I had Meridith text them earlier in the evening: "How many wives does it hold?" After they check into Hawthorne Suites, they're going back to Enterprise to get another car.

For Meridith and I, it was a quiet day. She woke up a little after 10 because she had stayed up until 1 a.m. peeling glue from her fingers. I forgot what she had been gluing. It might have been more things in her scrapbook, but I didn't notice.

She spent most of the day folding her huge load of laundry, including four t-shirts I had slipped into the second load, to wear on the weekend. It took her a while because she had other things to do during it, like checking on Tigger, as well as a break for a snack. That load comprised 3/4 of her closet, and for most of the shirts, it had been a long time.

I hate seasons 5 and 6 of The West Wing with a passion. After Aaron Sorkin and Thomas Schlamme left the show at the end of season 4, it never got stable under the direction of executive producer John Wells. The characters were no longer how we always knew them, exhibiting traits that were completely foreign to who they were. However, I have found the season 5 episodes with John Goodman as the Acting President, and the episode of the funeral of a former president, and the episode about potential Supreme Court nominees (guest-starring Glenn Close and William Fichtner) fascinating, moreso lately the funeral episode because of my research, and the setting for that fictional presidential library looking exactly like the kind of presidential library I'd like to be at all the time.

I wanted to see The Stormy Present (the funeral episode) again, but didn't want to have to Netflix the third disc of season 5 again. And then I found an e-mail from Amazon touting a massive sale of Warner Bros. DVDs, which I took advantage of, paying $5.49 for Auntie Mame and about a dollar less for Sweeney Todd: The Demon Barber of Fleet Street, starring Angela Lansbury and George Hearn. I've never seen it, but it is Sondheim, and that's the automatic attraction.

Seasons of The West Wing were going for $15.99 and a little more up (The priciest are the sixth and seven seasons at $22.99 each), and I thought to myself, "Do I really need season 5, despite my vehement hatred?" No, I don't. I love seasons 1, 2, 3, 4 and 7 and that's all I need in my collection. But I wanted those particular episodes. Ah, Amazon Instant Video, how I love thee at $1.99 per episode. And that's exactly what I did, and spent most of my day watching those episodes, and certain scenes of The Stormy Present over and over again. I loathe some of the dialogue, I wish that Presidents Bartlet, Newman (James Cromwell) and Walken (Goodman) had more scenes together discussing the weight of the office, however temporary (in Walken's case), but I love the plot and the setting, as it also reminds me of watching Reagan's funeral on TV, and the history of that day.

Reading Cornbread Nation 1: The Best of Southern Food Writing while waiting for Meridith to get her nails done was truly one of the greatest pleasures I've had in Santa Clarita, and there are very few. It may very well be the greatest pleasure because of how peaceful it was. I didn't bring my watch with me, I didn't need to know what time it was, I just wanted to wade in the words that were in front of me. That's all I needed. I'm a simple soul. A good book is my big jackpot.

Dinner was an interesting experience. While sitting on that bench, reading, I had a notion about chicken breast and rice. Chicken breast whole on the plate with rice on the side? Then I thought about the chicken breast cut up and put on top of the rice. The catalyst for this was the bottle of Iron Chef Thai sweet pepper and garlic sauce that had been in the cabinet for months and was reaching its expiration date. Sounds good on chicken and rice, emphasis on "sounds."

Meridith made the dinner, but admitted that she had put in too much sauce after we kept getting major whiffs of heat and then hot, because of the seeds in the sauce. I didn't mind, since the chicken and rice were exactly as I had hoped, though it was brown rice. I don't mind brown rice, but I had thought about white rice, and we didn't have any. It was still good. Meridith struggled to get through the rest in her bowl and I told her not to force herself, to finish what she could and then dump the rest. And she did.

After the phone call from Mom, the rest of the evening was pretty nice. I had Tivo'd The Great Muppet Caper off of Showtime, and we watched some of that up until it was time for bed.

Today is a bigger day for Mom and Dad than it is for us. After checking into Hawthorne Suites and then getting another car from Enterprise, they've got the opportunity explore whatever they want, though I'm sure it'll be the washing machines and dryers at Hawthorne first. We're planning laundry here, too, jackets that haven't been washed in quite a while, and our bedsheets. We figure that since they get fresh sheets at Hawthorne, we should have clean sheets, too.

I still have to vacuum around the house, since Dad asked me to vacuum his and Mom's room after we put new litter in the birds' cages. We did that late yesterday, and all I had time for was to vacuum around the birds' cages since Meridith had to get to that nail salon (called "Ocean Nails Spa") before it closed. Better that she had some time there and didn't have to be rushed, so we left right after we were done.

I also still have to sweep the garage. I prefer sweeping the patio. At least I know what I'm sweeping there. But I'll do it. Mom and Dad asked before they left.

Oh, one more thing. Mom also told me last night that they got me a Las Vegas Weekly, exactly what I wanted and I'm psyched to read it. I also requested the Friday edition of the Las Vegas Review-Journal since the weekend Neon section is in there and I want to finally spend some time reading a local paper, not the barely-two minutes I spend skimming through The Signal since there's never anything interesting to read in there. According to the Hawthorne Suites website, one of the amenities is a "daily complimentary newspaper." I hope that's the Review-Journal. It would save Dad a few coins. We'll definitely subscribe to it after we move here.