It has been three weeks now since my husband started living 4 hours away, but I got to hang out with him for most of this past week. On Monday afternoon I drove down to visit feeling giddy, like a school girl visiting her crush, and I had so much fun! It was like a little vacation and I got to get to know this future home of mine a little better and must admit, I'm warming up to it. It's pretty artsy and the downtown is cool, I haven't gotten to venture much past that so I don't have a good feel for the whole town. I had planned on doing a photo documentary of how my husband is living these days because it's so bohemian, and more than a smidge odd. After he was all moved into his apartment, I use the term apartment loosely, we walked back into the ally, I looked around at the beautiful rundowness of it all and said "Jack Kerouac would be proud." Unfortunately in the hustle and bustle of getting kids and dog out of the house and on their way to Grandma's house (yea for Grandma!) and my over excitement to get on the road to see the husband I hadn't seen in two weeks, I forgot my camera, so pictures will have to wait.
I felt inspired visiting this town with it's moderately neglected oldness. We walked up and down the main street, in and out of boutiques full of really cool stuff I will never afford. We had breakfast in the restaurant upstairs from my husband's apartment. It's so closely upstairs that the scootching of wooden chairs on the wooden floor above and the soft rumble of customers' voices was my morning alarm. We visited "The Poet's Loft", a little place about a block away. The first night they had open mic jam session. My husband is a Jack of all Musical Trades so he was up there drumming, singing, and playing guitar. The next night was their poetry slam. I'm not a poetry writer/reader, actually I'm not much into being on display in front of people, I leave that to my husband who on this night read a poem by Mother Theresa and sang a silly ditty.
My husband even got to come home with me for a day or two but now he's gone. Drove off in the cold, dark night in our as of yet topless '68 VW convertible bundled up to twice his size. While he was here he felt a little like a stranger in his own home, having had to live out of a suitcase. As he was leaving I had the feeling that I just have visitation rights to my husband, I guess that makes Hot Springs the evil stepmother. It seems there is still some warming up to be done!
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