September Plans

 Violet is still in Indiana. I think she is still adjusting and trying to figure out what she wants. We text. I haven't offered up any suggestions. She'll figure out what she wants to do. 

She starts a cashier job this week at Kroger's. It's close to her mom's house. That's good. 

I'm taking some vacation time between our birthdays. Hers is the 27th; mine is the 18th. We are making plans for me to drive back down to see her.

Mammoth Caves is only two hours away from her. It would be nice to go there again. We are still working on the details.

Still, it gives me something to look forward to for my birthday. A day that just gets more depressing each year :).

AT&T Sucks

I switched my internet and wireless service from AT&T to Xfinity. I should save $960 the first year and about $600 a year for the remaining four years. Sounds worth the hassle, right?

Not so fast.

I tried to unlock my phone so I could move it to Xfinity.

“This account has a past-due balance.”

It doesn’t. I bought my phone outright in 2024 specifically so I could move it whenever I felt like it.

So far, I have gone to the AT&T store where I bought it—twice—and spoken with numerous AT&T agents by phone and online. At least two assured me the problem was fixed.

It wasn’t.

And don’t get me started on AT&T’s automated AI. It understands only basic commands and won’t let you speak to a human unless you lie to it or become more stubborn than the machine. The agents who can’t fix the problem either make another promise or send you back to a phone number answered by the same useless AI.

This has gone on for four days. I finally filed complaints with the FCC and AT&T Legal. To say I’m frustrated would be an understatement.

Now I’m left waiting for someone to fix it.

I’ve cooled off for the moment—enough to write this post and remember the good old days of customer support.

The following conversation probably wouldn’t happen today. But there was at least a human being on the other end of the phone.

Talk

Originally posted October 28, 2005 (excerpt)

By the time we got back to Jay’s house, it was already after 9:30 p.m. I called customer support to get the modem registered to his account. I got Alison, a friendly support person from Ottawa. I think she was new. She couldn’t get whatever she needed to do to work. She needed to call her manager over.

While we waited, I started reading her the Maxim magazine article I was flipping through, “100 Things You Need to Know About Women.”

Me: “Okay, here’s one. #34: The average woman owns eight bras and wears each one five times before washing.”

Alison: “That sounds about right, but I don’t know about the five times.”

Me: “#19: The more piercings she has, the more places she’ll let you put it.”

Alison: “I only have one piercing. What’s the next one?”

Me: “Okayyyy. #23: Every woman is self-conscious about her ass.”

Alison: “No comment.”

Me: “Oops, I think I hit a sensitive spot.”

Alison: “I didn’t say that.”

Me: “#16: Chicks aren’t afraid to get kinky; you just have to have the nerve to ask.”

Alison: “I can’t talk about that one—these conversations are recorded.”

Unfortunately, Jay’s cheap cell phone disconnected at that point. When I got customer service back on my phone, a guy took the call and hooked up internet access in minutes, but it wasn’t as fun.

Alison couldn’t fix the problem, but she was allowed to be a person. The next representative fixed it in minutes. Twenty-one years later, AT&T’s artificial intelligence has managed to eliminate both the conversation and the solution.

The Waiting

It's safe to say I've become invested in Violet (but you probably already knew that). I care about what happens to her, but I also like her. I think she likes me too.

I want her to establish herself and become independent, but the car ride back did feel empty without her there.

I'm walking a fine line. If she decides to come back, I want it to be her choice. I'd like her to be a part of my life, while at the same time, I want her to reach a point where she has absolutely no need to.

It sounds selfless, but being selfless can feel a bit lonely at the moment.

If she stopped needing my help tomorrow, would there still be something between us that both of us wanted?

I think there is. I think she does too.

I'm not sure how much of that is just the adrenaline of the moment, but I'd like to find out.

Like Tom Petty said, "The waiting is the hardest part."

One thing is for sure: my blog gets more interesting when a woman is involved.

Road Trip, Indiana Style

 Our drive was mostly uneventful, except for the one detour between Columbus and Cincinnati, where I took a wrong turn into oncoming traffic. We survived. 

The dogs, a pit bull and a boxer, settled into the back. The boxer occasionally whined, but neither bit my arm off.

We didn't play any music during the six-hour ride. We just talked—about our pasts, about her ex, about gender politics.

When we got closer to her hometown in southern Indiana, we stopped at a Walmart so she could pick up dog food and a few items for herself. We interacted naturally together—making jokes and observations about the differences between Walmarts.

She mentioned the angels in my tattoo sleeve. She said it was one of the first things she noticed. 

"Maybe god or whoever brings people into your life when you need them," she said.

"Well, if I disappear on you, that just means I am on to my next assignment."

"You better not disappear on me."

As we exited the store, I said. "Now you can't say, I never took you anywhere." 

She just laughed.

She unloaded her merger belonging, the dogs, and a couple of grocery bags. We exchanged hugs, and then I was back on the road.

The car felt noticeably quieter without her.

I turned on my music and sang along during the drive. I made good time until I ran into a heavy downpour outside of Toledo. Cars slowed or pulled over.

We exchanged a few texts during the drive. The vibe was different now that we could text freely.

Me: I just crossed into Michigan.

Violet: Glad you made it back to the American border.

I laughed. Violet feels Ohio and Indiana are too strict and un-American.

Me: You are so funny.

Violet: I mean, I think so. That's all that matters. And you made me listen to 35,000 dry jokes today. I think I earned one.

I told her that made me laugh even harder.

Violet: Ha, so I am funny. All this time I thought it was my charm and good looks.

Me: It is a little bit of both.

Violet: So you are pretty much saying I'm the full package.

Me: You are the full package that comes with a lot of complications.

Violet: Every good commitment comes with terms and conditions.

Me: I'm going to have to start learning to read the fine print.

Violet: Like that would be something you'd pass up on anyway. #1 master LEGO builder partner here.

The boyfriend ended up having his grandfather bond him out on Saturday. He was back in Indiana by Sunday evening. He picked up the dogs from Violet's mother. Violet was not around.

She wants to return to Michigan. She wants to continue hanging out with me. What that all means is still up in the air. I am letting her decide. I told her she is welcome to come back and stay with me. 

An Unexpected Afternoon

It was 2:00 p.m. Friday afternoon. I was at work finishing a second draft of my latest story when I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. I almost didn't pick it up, but it was during work hours.

It was Violet. She was crying.

She and her boyfriend had rented a room in Farmington Hills, closer to the club, so she could work the weekend. He didn't want to drive all the miles (of course). They got into a shouting fight. She threw a cup of water at him. He ended up punching her in the back of the head.

Violet left the room and started walking. He followed her. He blocked her with his car and tried to get her inside when employees at a muffler shop intervened. They told him to leave the premises and took her inside.

That's when she called me. She was worried about her dogs, which were still in the room. I convinced her she needed to call the cops. He left the muffler shop, but he was watching from the balcony of the motel, which was just adjacent.

I told her that when the cops arrived, I would pick her up. He took off before they arrived. I got Violet. The people at the muffler shop were very kind and really helped her.

The cops arrived, and I picked her up.

He came back, but the cops didn't leave. They had just pulled around behind the muffler shop. They arrested him. They called us, got the room key from him, and we were able to pick up the dogs.

Between Violet's statement and the statements from the people at the muffler shop, the police had plenty to work with. He'll be spending at least the weekend in jail. He may have to spend longer, as this will violate his probation.

Violet and the dogs are spending the night here. In the morning, I am taking her back to her mom's in Indiana. It isn't ideal, but that is what she wants to do. I told her she could stay here, but I couldn't house her and the dogs.

She didn't want to go back to his place to get any of her things. She just wants to leave. Her main concern, right or wrong, is her dogs, which I understand.

So tomorrow will be a six-hour road trip, with another six hours back. I don't plan on staying overnight somewhere.

I call it an unexpected afternoon, but was it really? I think we all saw this coming. 

A Win is a Win

 I have to keep reminding myself that a win is a win. A year ago, I would have been happy if any of my writing had been accepted for publication. Now, I have five publications, and I'm getting jaded. I still want an agent to take the memoir seriously.

I still have other short essays that haven't found a home yet, either. Honestly, I am not submitting as much as I should. It goes in waves. Currently, I am working on revisions to my query letter and synopsis for the memoir. I've been working with my instructor from the workshop. After that, I will start another round of queries and see if anything improves. My mentor says summer is not the time to query anyway.

I'm not sure where this is going.

I continue to hear from Violet occasionally. No movement there. She is still trying to move forward with her plan. It's not going well. He seems to be keeping her from making money. I get it. It's hard to get ahead these days when you are starting from nothing. Hopefully, she'll figure it out.

 

Notice

 I have been traveling for work this week. Many hours of driving. I hate driving lately. Yesterday I spent six hours in the car. Today I spent two hours. It makes for a long day. I can't get my work done.

On the bright side. I woke today to my story, The Eiffel Tower is in Cincinnati, getting accepted for publication in The Write Launch. I'm not sure how to feel about this one. On the one hand, the story is too long for literary magazines. At just over 12,000 words, it's too long for most. The Write Launch accepted it despite the length being over their usual limit. On the other hand, I wonder if I should have held out for a better spot.

Regardless, I will be publishing a link to the story on September 15. I think it is a good story. So I am glad people will be able to read it.

Summer Haze

Sunday, Max and I went to New Baltimore for lunch. I watched the young girls eyeing Max. He probably doesn't even notice. The kid would be dangerous if he developed his conversation skills. I get my share of looks from the geriatric crowd, but the young, cute ones get all nervous around Max's blue eyes. 

Max is working as a carpentry apprentice-- yes, another new job. Although the smoke has forced him to stay home for a few days. There will be more of that coming next week as well. It will be another night of keeping the air conditioner on and the windows closed, even though the temperatures we are having (lows in the high 50s) would usually allow me to turn off the air and open the windows for the night.

Just another glorious summer.

Smoke

 Like other areas of the country, the Canadian wildfires have gifted us with a thick haze of smoke. It's like a grey fog. The smell is everywhere. Not the pleasant smell of a fire in the fireplace. It's the smell of old chemicals that only vaguely reminds you of smoke. The smell seeps into the office, your clothes, your home.

The temperatures are dipping into the 60s at night, but you can't open the windows. My lungs are already rebelling from my vaping (I know, I have to quit). This just adds to it.

Otherwise, Max got him an apprentice job on a framing crew. If you ask me, that is the lowest of the skilled trades. He should have waited for a plumbing, electrical, or HVAC opening to come up.

Nothing says don't work outside like 100-degree weather and toxic smoke.

On the Fringe

Sugar: Hey, you should come in tonight. Violet is here. She wants to see you.

Bathwater: Did you find out what happened to her?

Sugar: I did. Come talk to her. It's for her to say. It's not my place to spread her stuff. I don't want to do that.

She sends a picture of the two of them in the dressing room getting ready.

Bathwater: I take it she can't text me.

Sugar: Yeah, she wishes she could. That's why I said don't worry, I got you. She really wants to talk. She always feels better when she does.

Bathwater: I got plans. I wouldn't get there till late.

Because I can't resist a good story, I went. 

I'm not a fan of Friday nights at the club. The crowd is just different. Some familiar faces always seem to be there. The pair of German brothers in their mid-seventies, who like to stare over the rail and compare dancers. Same bartenders and a couple of familiar dancers.

The crowd was thin, and there were a lot of dancers working. They were really hustling. I had to fend off more than usual.

I saw Sugar first. I chipped away at her defenses during our conversation. She didn't say much about Violet.

Familiar names get called on stage. I find myself thinking about the dancers I used to know with those same ones.

I excused myself to the bathroom. I saw Violet sitting in the center of a booth filled with a group of guys and a couple of other dancers. We locked eyes for a second as I walked past.

Violet came up to the upstairs bar where I usually hang out about twenty minutes later. She settled into the high-back stool next to where I was standing.

Her eyes were glassy. 

"I'm glad to see you're alive," I said.

She didn't want to get into her story at the bar in front of others. 

"Let's go into the back, then," I suggested. "Let me order another beer first. I have a feeling this is going to be a long one."

We went to the back. Violet plopped herself into the corner of the couch and rested her legs on my lap. She slid the triangles of her purple bikini top off her breasts out of habit and started unloading.

First, let me gloat.

Ninety percent of my suspicions were correct. She did get to Loves before I arrived, but he started creating a scene. He took her phone. It was he who sent those last few text messages. It was him in that grey midsize SUV.

The SUV was actually paid for by Violet, but it is in his name. His truck is not running. He threatened to call the cops and take it from her. Violet does not want to be without a car. She did get kicked out of where she was staying (which was not with him). He caused a scene outside, and her roommate said she can't have that.

Violet was forced to move in with him. She stopped texting with me because she doesn't want to put me in the middle. I don't want to be in the middle. She is afraid of him. Her current plan is to save enough money to get another car and leave. I suggested that when that time comes, she should call the cops. She is still reluctant to do that. She'd rather make a clean escape. I don't really see that happening, given the control he has over her. 

I gave her my Google number just in case, before we parted.

When I returned to the upstairs bar area, it was freezing. I was shivering. Sugar passed, and I pulled her in. "Come here. Keep me warm for a sec."

"I figured you two would still be in the back."

"I didn't come here planning to spend a bunch of money. Do me a favor. Keep an eye out for her."

"Will do."

I think Violet will leave him. It's there in the detached way she talks. In the layered plans she's already making. The note she plans to leave behind will basically say, "You're an asshole." The question is when and at what cost.

Why I'm still hanging around the fringes. I like her. She wants to hang out, and she wants to do it soon. I do too.

"You don't have to come in," was one of the last things Violet said to me.

I think that tells me two things.

She wants to figure this out on her own.

And whatever this friendship has become, it isn't dependent on me walking through the doors of the club.

Fade to Black

Saturday, I went to the club.

I didn't expect Violet to be there, but I hoped Sugar might.

When you look down on the stage from the railing near the upstairs bar, you can see where the glossy white surface has worn into a dull circle around the front pole—years of high heels tracing the same path.

I arrived around nine. The place wasn't busy. I'd been sitting at the upstairs bar for about ten minutes when the DJ announced Sugar would be on stage in five songs.

When she came up, I walked down to the rail.

"Hey, have you heard from Violet?"

"No. She's not here tonight." She grinned. "Does that mean I get to take you to the back?" Always the salesman, Sugar is.

I slipped a twenty into her G-string. "I guess. I got a story for you."

After she finished making her rounds on stage, she found me upstairs and sat beside me at the bar.

She told me she'd texted Violet a few days earlier but never got a reply.

I told her everything—what happened that night, my theory about the SUV, and showed her the text exchange.

"Now I'm worried," she said.

"Me too."

She said she'd try calling her the next day. Before she went back to work, we exchanged numbers.

"If you hear from her," I said, "just let me know."

She nodded.

It was obvious Sugar had heard more stories about Violet's boyfriend than I had, but she didn't elaborate.

For now, that seems to be the end of the story.

At least the part I know.

Eos

Why I don't bother looking for women anymore. This is a recent exchange on a mutually beneficial dating site.

Christine: If your still looking for something steady let me know I’d definitely be interested in seeing if we are compatible and looking for the same thing ☺️

Me: Yes, I am. Would you like to get together for a coffee?

Christine: I could do that.  In person is so much easier than on here. I’m over in Grosse Pointe Woods area.  Where are you? Maybe find a place in the middle.

Me: I agree. You don't know until you meet.  I live in Chesterfield. There is Eos Cafe & Coffee House on Jefferson between 12 and 13. I have not been there, but it looks okay.

Christine: Next week I will have way more free time and flexibility.  Would it be ok if we schedule meeting? I have been to EOS before and isn’t too far from me.

Me: Yes, next week would be good for me. I'm looking forward to. Give me some days that work well for you. Tuesday is my only busy day. Wednesdays and Sundays are good.

Christine: I can do next Wednesday if you’d like?

Me: Yes, I can do Wed. Eos closes at 4 p.m. Can you do sometime between noon and 3? If not, I can pick somewhere else.

Christine: How does 1pm sound?

I don’t think I got your name yet? I’m Christine ☺️

Me: Nice to meet you, Christine. My name is Bathwater.  Wednesday at 1 p.m. at Eos on Jefferson sounds great.

At this point, her potential for showing has dropped to fifty percent.

Me: I'm looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. Let me know if your plans change. I'll DM you here when I am on my way.

Wednesday

Me: I'll be heading out in a few. See you there. I'm wearing a green shirt.

I made my way down to Eos. She didn't show. Technically, she could say she never saw the messages, but the app did show her online, and I did boost the message to the top of her inbox.

On the plus side, I still clean up nicely for my age, and I did get to see an attractive girl behind the coffee counter with a nice smile, long torso, and tight tee.

Difference

 Max did take me to lunch for Father's Day. It was just him and me. His fiancé did not go. The three of us did go to Finn's in New Baltimore the week before.

Max was updating me on his tangles with the neighbors at his mom's condo. Something that didn't occur when his brothers were living there. I said he should expect it; he's living in an old folks community. He swears he is not the problem. I suspect it is a little of both going on.

Currently, I'm writing a fiction story. The opening line came to me as I was waking up one morning. "There is no such thing as cane sugar," she assured me. It's about the friendship between two 8/ 9-year-old kids.

It is called The Eiffel Tower is in Cincinnati. It began as an essay piece that evolved into a 7,000-word story, but I felt there was more to it. I'm currently writing a second half that will be approximately another 5,000 words. The second half flashes forward to when they are adults. I like the story. It is my most ambitious work of fiction in a long time.

I'm not sure what I will do with it when it is done. It will be an awkward length for publishing, but creating the story is more important to me right now than where it belongs. It has been a good distraction while the memoir is out for consideration.

Rings

I don't have any updates on Violet. Saturday rolled around, but she didn't reach out, and I didn't feel like making the drive out to the club to talk to Sugar or see if Violet was there. I hope she is alright, but I don't feel like being drawn into the middle of something when she doesn't seem to have made up her own mind.

As for the ring and Max's engagement. Yes, Max got the ring. Yes, I financed it for him. By financed, I mean I bought it with the understanding he would be paying me back. There was no talking him out of it. I know, I'm as bad as his mother.

He talked about giving her the ring as part of an elaborate plan, but when it came, it didn't take long for him to just hand it over.

They want to get married in Sicily. A wedding honeymoon combination. I wouldn't mind going to Sicily, probably one of the few places in Europe I would travel to. We'll see, though. Lately, I don't feel like leaving the house.

Personally, I still think getting married is just one of those life mistakes people make, especially if they don't plan on having children.

I don't see their plans as being realistic. Young people don't seem to be burdened by an abundance of common sense. Or maybe I'm just burdened by too much these days.

What We Say With Words

The last time I saw Violet was a week before her I think I need help texted. It was my third time seeing her at the club. 

We were behind the curtains, and she wanted to read me a poem she wrote on her phone. She said I had to hear it in her voice. She has a slight southern drawl that you don't usually expect from a person from Indiana. 

I tilted my head close to hers so I could hear her over the music. It was a poem about being in a troubled relationship and knowing the right choice, but not knowing why she stays.

Her poem reminded me of the Silverstein song Massachusetts—about knowing the right choice and still not being able to make it.

Violet is friendly with Sugar, another dancer at the club. She said Sugar was only eighteen, but she lies and tells customers she is twenty. But what was really concerning to both of us was Sugar's actions.

I think Violet doesn't want Sugar to go down the wrong road. Something Violet has had experience with. 

I still haven't heard from Violet, although I have a feeling at some point I will. I'm not reaching out. I'm thinking about going to the club on Friday or Saturday. I don't expect to see Violet there, but I can check to see if Sugar has heard from her and exchange numbers.

 

Bumfuck Michigan

I threw on some clothes and got into the Buick. Driving up North Ave and Capac roads at night this time of year is like flirting with death. Not your own, although that could happen too, but more likely the death of a deer.

I remember a few years back, Sam and I were driving up North Avenue during the middle of a summer day to get to our favorite biking trail and countering nine deer carcasses along the side of the road.

Why was I driving up these rural roads at 12:30 a.m. on a Saturday night? It started with a text I received much earlier in the day. 

Violet: Missing talking to you...I've had a busy, overwhelming week; hopefully, yours has been okay. I'm going to be at the club tonight if you want to pop in and talk for a little bit. I know it sucks spending time together there, but I do miss you...I completely understand if you can't, though.

I saw her the week before. She knows I like seeing her, but she also knows I don't like going all that way to the club. I texted her back a few hours later when I saw her text.

Me: I'm going out with Max and his girlfriend tonight so they can gush over their engagement. (eyeroll emoji) You can call me later, though.

Yes, Max got engaged, but that is a story for a different post.

At eleven, I received another text from Violet.

Violet: I didn't end up going into work. I'm actually having maybe the worst night of my life so far. I think I need help.

I replied immediately.

Me: What's wrong? Do you need to talk?

Violet: I'm not alone. I can't talk yet. I'm about to be stranded and have no place to live though.

I'm on my way to get my belongings and then I don't know what I'm doing because I won't have transportation. i might be able to get an Uber, I don't know.

Me: I have a spare room. Do you need a ride or would that just cause more problems?

Violet: I might have no other choice. but to get a ride because I'm out in bumfuck and I don't know if Uber is going to accept late where I am at. I'm going to get packed and try to figure out if I can get a cab or something. Where do you live again?

I gave her my general location.

Violet: Okay, I'm going to get off here and save my battery until I get back and get my stuff packed. I'm on 19%. I'll let you know soon.

Then, a few minutes later.

Violet: I'm going to Loves in Capac right now.

Me: Call me when you can and let me know what you want to do.

Violet: Can u pick me up?

Me: Yes, 45 minutes.

That was what sent me out drive north in the middle of the night--dodging deer (I saw at least four, one in the middle of the road), and wishing I had taken the truck.

I texted her one more time, saying I was ten minutes out. She responded okay. Loves sits off I-69 in rural Michigan, a twenty-four-hour truck stop with a convenience store and an attached McDonald's. There is nothing else worth noting around it.

I parked in front beneath the neon red heart and yellow Loves sign. There was no sign of Violet. I went inside the bright-lit store and checked all around. There was no sign of her. I got back in my car.

Me: I'm here, but I don't see you.

Violet: I'm by the McDonald's. Where are you at?

I got out and walked around the side of the closed McDonald's. There was a black truck parked further back in the lot. There was no way I was going to go up to that. I got back in my car.

Me: I'm in front of Loves. Red car.

Imagine this at night

She didn't respond, but shortly after, a young kid in a silver or grey mid-size SUV pulled up next to me. I glanced over while sitting in my car and smoking my vape. He didn't get out of his car. He stayed for a few moments and then pulled out.

I didn't hear anything else from Violet. I waited another twenty minutes. Then tried calling her. Her phone went to voicemail. After that, I drove back home, thinking I'm too old to be rescuing girls in the middle of the night.

I have a few theories of what happened. You'll probably come to the same conclusions. Still, I can't answer everything.

It's Sunday, and I haven't heard from her. I'm a bit concerned for her safety. This is a kid she has a restraining order against, but there is not much I can do. If she wants to contact me, she can. She has my phone number (if he didn't delete and block it), she has my email, and CashApp. Where there is a will, there is a way.

Querying

The hardest thing for me to balance in my query letter is that the story is about relationships that form around the Detroit strip club environment, but it is not a male strip club book.

One guy from the workshop asked to read it and said:

I think it is a great book and will be a big seller, maybe even a movie.

I’m not usually down for stories about strip joints, especially from the POV of dudes, especially patrons getting involved with the talent, but this tale is different: lyrical. 

I trust & like the narrator, and feel compelled to follow his journey and turn the page to see what happens next.

This has not been an isolated response. They have preconceived ideas about what the story will be about, but once they start reading, they find out it is much more. 

I've worked very hard and shaped this book compared to my first attempt. This version is much stronger and a totally different read. I just need one agent willing to take a leap of faith.

Another Night

 So Tinkerbell encouraged me to give Violet some more time. She thinks I am happier when someone is around. I am, but I am also happy focusing on writing right now.  I ended up texting her to see if she was working at the club this weekend. She was, and I decided to go in on Saturday night.

I'm beginning to hate going to those clubs, but the weather hasn't really turned to summer yet here. I spent some time talking to a new dancer I met. A cute twenty-one-year-old who would be nothing but trouble. She was hot, though.

When Violet found me and sat beside me, she was obviously intoxicated. Definitely not the girl I met a few weeks prior. I gave her some money and suggested she skip herself on stage and get something to eat. 

Violet is having issues at home, concerning a bad relationship she is trying to extract herself from, along with some other issues that usually come with being that age. She sobered up a bit after eating some pretzel sticks, and we went into the back, where we continued to talk. 

I like her; she is cute and shares some of the same interests. She seems interested in hanging out more, but she needs to get her shit together for that to happen. For now, she is a long shot. 

I told her I wasn't interested in hanging out, but I wasn't going to spend my summer inside the club, and left it at that. I'd don't think I have seen the last of her. She seems genuinely interested in hanging out. The real question is whether she is willing and able to make the first step.

The Gladiator is Back on the Road

Saturday, I decided to start the Jeep and get it ready to take to work for a few days. It had been sitting for months. The battery was dead and wouldn't take a charge. I took it to Murray's Auto Parts to see if the battery or the truck was the problem. It was the battery.

The young sales clerk was ready to sell me a new $259 battery when he mentioned a four-year warranty.

"Wait a minute, that battery is only three years old." I'd gotten it from Auto Zone.

I decided to reclaim my battery and drive the extra mile to Auto Zone. They exchanged it for free. 

Today, Max and I got gas in the truck and went to Walmart to find replacement batteries for my key fobs. Those were not free, but cheap enough.

I tired convincing Max that strapping himself with a $5600 ring payment was not a good idea.

"That's about what mom's ring cost," he said.

I refrained from making a comment on that except to say, "Not the first one. Her first one was less than a thousand."

He clearly hadn't considered wedding plans or other costs coming up in the next year. "Your going to have a lot going on in the next year. Moving out of that condo, a wedding. Don't start off in debt.

I'd rather give you $10,000 for a down payment on a house than to help you finance that ring."

After he left, I decided to switch the hinges on my new dryer so it opened to the left. The door is bigger than the old one, and it was getting in the way when I loaded clothes from the washer.

I also submitted a couple more novel queries this weekend and a few essay submissions.

Overall I'd say it has been productive.

Welter Spring 2026

 I am proud to announce that my piece, Glimpse, is part of the Welter spring 2026 issue.

CURRENT ISSUE | Spring 2026

 

Inside the 61st issue of Welter

New writing from Mira Yousif Almazrouei, Lucie Bhisitkul, Arno Bohlmeijer, Nathaniel Brame, Allison Burris, Sam Campbell, Scott Carroll, J. S. Coursey, Thomas Dettling, Joy DiMenna, Clayton Eccard, Mel Edden, Rachel Eisler, Christa Fairbrother, Melissa Foley-King, Ewen Glass, Benjamin Goluboff, Jennifer Harvey, Ghazal Azad Jahan, Thomas Lowery, Karen McGee, Kate Miano, Lauren Mirzakhalili, Elizabeth Murphy, Christine Naprava, Franz Jørgen Neumann, Bill Neumire, Prasida Clare Newman, David Pizzuro, Kimberly Ann Priest, nat raum, Sara Ries Dziekonski, Thaddeus Rutkowski, Grace Schwenk, Isabella Simões, John Sweeney, Kendra Whitfield, Joy Yin, Joshua Zeitler, and Jianqing Zheng. New artwork from Nuala McEvoy (cover), Joy DiMenna, Carlos Duplá, Richard Hanus, JC Henderson, Beth Horton, Anna Kirby, Susan Laugen, Serge Lecompte, Vishaal Pathak, Jim Ross, and RUNA.

For more information about the 61st print issue and our other print journals, visit our Print section.