411: Crossing the Mighty Mississippi in a rental car, Kid Rock blaring, ignoring the casinos (which don’t have poker rooms anyway)
“All you have to do is decide what to do with the time that is given to you.”
A bunch of different things have converged in the last few days, as I pondered what to write. I wish I didn’t have this inspiration.
The above quote is from (get ready for cheesiness) Gandalf, from the Return of the King, coming out soon. I can’t quite get it out of my head, and it finally stopped bugging me when I saved it as a draft, future blog entry. Right about that time my two friends who are on walkabout came to visit for a few days. They are also intimately familiar with the concept of mortality, and being around them reminds me to live in the moment.
With no real agenda, and no itinerary, they bump from place to place, creating artifical agendas and itineraries to provide the structure they so desperately crave.
In the middle of all of that, a funeral, and therefore my trip to St. Louis to attend to those in its orbit.
I flew straight from Boston into town and started grocery shopping. My role at this is unclear, but during times of great stress, people eat badly. That seems unnecessary.
Grocery list for grieving (partial):
Bottled water (lots)
Brie and pasta shells
Chips, fruit, veggies, and dips
Soy milk, eggs, OJ, and apple juice
Paper towels, trash bags (lots), paper plates
Tortillas, cheese, salsa, napolitos (go Google it), guacamole
Cooking, picking up a relative, fixing dinner while people came to visit. Around 8 or 9 tonight I finally got around to finding a hotel. Though I detest New Agey-ness, I took this as a sign that this was the hotel for me.