I’m still stuck in Flagstaff but there are worse places to be. On Tuesday I was in 108 degree weather in Chandler and this morning in Flag I walk out of the motel room and it is 31 degrees and snowing. And, where is my jacket? It’s at home, of course, where it is desperately needed. Oh well, at least the Pegoretti is enjoying the scenery, though from the car. Why? Because I left the arm and leg warmers next to the jacket. I do not mind riding in the cold, but I do draw the line at 48 degrees in bare legs and arms. I am not that tough. Well, hopefully the riding in Tucson this upcoming weekend will make up for it.
I was speaking with the waitress at Little Thai Kitchen last night while waiting for my take-out. We hadn’t seen each other in about six months and since we were the only two people in the place we drank hot tea and shot the breeze. After about five minutes we stopped because we remembered we had the same conversation last time we had chatted. Neither of us wanted to discuss how to save the world so we hung out in a slightly uncomfortable silence. She was bored and I hate any aural void that is not being filled by the golden tones of my voice. With nothing else to say she played with her pen and I drew circles in the condensation left by the tea cup on the table. We perked up, though, and started talking about how amazing it is that we could have the same conversation twice in six months. I was enthralled by her insight and she loved the golden tones (a cross between Barry White and Roger Rabbit) I guess small talk ain’t small when you can repeat it ½ of a year later. Either that or, to paraphrase Santayana, those who can't remember their past conversations are doomed to repeat them.