View from My Writing Desk |
I got to Brookwood too early, so I sat at the tables in the food court closest to the the floor to ceiling windows that give a panoramic view of the small street below. I like what they've done at Brookwood. Its like a toy town main street, clean and verdant. I hope the planned Target doesn't destroy the ambient feel of it all.
I sat there watching a large contingent of elderly folks walking in 2's and 3's getting in their morning laps. I pulled a bottle of water from my bag and called my sister, Barbara, in Atlanta to catch up on her weekend - I love cell phones.
At 10, I make my way into Joe Muggs and stake out my favorite table with my bag, bought an iced tea and a raisin bagel, read 5 or 6 magazines, read the last back page essay in Victoria (excellent as usual). One of my essays once graced that back page as did Joyce Carol Oates - not bad company.
Before I knew it, it was noon. I took the new Writer's Digest and Sage Woman to the front register, but no one was there. I waited and looked around then decided to save my $12 and leave. It was noon and a cold Peroni at Brio's was calling my name - good food, excellent service and a view - oh yes.
I left the magazines at the register and crossed the street. I sat at the bar in my usual place with a view of the fountain, the walk and the street just outside. I love windows with a view of lives on parade - people passing by wrapped in their own worlds - worlds I can only imagine.
A cold Peroni, bread and olive oil and a steaming bowl of Minestrone later, I order a second beer, pull 4 chapters of my manuscript out of my bag and begin to read and edit with a red pen.
Around 3, I packed it in. I didn't want to end a perfect day by getting caught in rush hour traffic - it was a Monday after all.
I stopped at Wilson's market to pick up some dos Equis and stopped a moment in front of the straw-strewn empty lot that once boasted a modest 4-plex that was my home. I continued on to my new home - another #4, albeit a much larger #4 in another Southside 4-plex.
As I reach the top step, I see propped against my door what could only be my 2012 Writer's Market. It's only 3:30. I start some soup for dinner and put it to simmer, open a beer and head to the balcony with my Writer's Market, a pad and lots of post it flags.
At 7 I'll eat my soup with fresh buttered cornbread, then retire to the couch accompanied by Jazmine (cat) and the latest episode of Terra Nova. This was a perfect day.
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