Talk The Talk...

I am out here, On the Road, again. The dreariness of the Northwest reminds me why this isn't the top spot in the country to live, despite its lush beauty. But there is a reason for everything. If this part of the world had eighty degree days in January on the regular, it would be bursting at the seams with inhabitants, thereby losing a lot of its appeal. These four day trips have a double edged affect on me. I do enjoy getting away from home for short stretches, if for nothing else than to clear my head with constant solitude. This usually entails a drive of no more than two hours to whatever intended destination. A favorite Uncle has provided me with the musical backdrop, a vintage Miles Davis CD of Greatest Hits. The flip side of a trip like this is the torture of being away from the Girlie Girl. I thought being upright and mobile would be the penultimate watershed moment that signaled the inevitable crossover from infant to toddler. It pales, though, in comparison to her talking. One word attempts that follow the prompting of her mom and me. "Mine" sounds like nine, and "Happy" is becoming clearer and easier with every time she says it. I notice her watching my lips as they form to say the word, giving her the template to duplicate as she tries. The killer is when she says "Hi", and will press the issue until you greet her likewise. She still gets all dressed up, like that should be our hint that she has no intention of being left behind. Boa's and bracelets, Kangols and sunglasses. And of course, she never leaves, or prepares to leave the house without the toy cell phone Granny got her for Christmas. It's just a matter of time, a short one at that, and she'll be burning up minutes. Minutes that dissipate into the ethers, never to be lived again...