Day Four - Rochester

Old Rooster Antiques: native American pottery, Chinese curiosity cabinets, German violins, little bags of amethysts, painted glass teacups, vintage racist ceramic figurines…

“Man, they’d arrest you for selling those back in St. Louis,” Carrie-Bri just laughed.

Ray-Mar: typed out a chapter in my book. Wifi was apparently only available in the windowsill. Carrie-Bri and I took turns propping our Macbooks against the striped curtains blocking out sunshine-glare.

Oxbear texted between lifting weights with buddies in South City and joining Puck at the Silverspoon’s for the afternoon.

“Whenever I am tempted to feel guilty about leaving Crackers home alone so much, I remember that I once read an article about a medical examiner who had learned through her years of experience that, while your dog will sit next to your dead body for days, your cat will start eating you almost immediately.”

The Canadian Honker – “where the locals eat”: I had the club with a side of fries. Took home a sack of dessert to share for later.

Hobby Lobby: Mom spent part of her gift card on a glass jar bird feeder for the backyard.

We saw it high up on the hill – Spanish monastery we thought – trying to find the correct route up. And took the wrong one.

“Rehab Center?! Mom, no! We can’t drive up there! They’ll come running out with the straight jackets!”

Turned around and found the right road: Sisters of Assisi.

“Well, now they’ll think you’re dropping us off to be nuns.”

“I’ll take the rehab center instead!”

In the last gray-blue light of dusk we circled around the surprisingly large stone and Spanish tile structure. Didn’t see a soul. But then again, why would we in this level of cold?

Ray-Mar: split a piece of peanut butter pie with Mom. Carrie had the coconut cake.

Five o’clock was feeling more like nine. I guess that’s what happens when you’re that much further away from the Equator.