Just Watch the Fireworks

I didn't go to sleep until three in the morning last night. After an entire day of Georgia Bulldog revelry, I was so hammered...I kid, I kid. Actually, I got home around nine o'clock and spent the rest of the evening blissfully alone, stomach in knots, as I watched my beloved Arizona Wildcats notch an ugly, but huge, win over BYU in their season opener. The game finished at maybe two in the morning - gotta love time zones, eh? I then spoke with our favorite gumshoe, Jeremy B. Evans, as the nail-biting ending to the game (Nick Folk hits 48-yard field goal with one second left for 16-13 victory) had me far too excited (or was it nauseated) to sleep. A splendid night, indeed.

I am now drinking a rather superb iced mint green tea from a lovely coffee joint called "Espresso Royale". I suppose the least I can do for them in exchange for the wonderful beverage is provide a little unsolicited advertising. Whenever you happen to be in Athens (which is frequently, of course), make sure to stop by.

I had started this note with the intention of fleshing out my growing longing for Phoenix. Not in the Athens-sucks-get-me-out-of-here sort of way, but in the o'-Phoenix-,-how-I-miss-thee sort of way. When so much of you is rooted in a certain place, it's practically impossible to not find yourself thinking back on the comfort of it all. All the silly, subconscious comforts, the things that no one else would even know means something to you. To walk through Desert Ridge in the evening warmth, cruise along Lincoln Drive with the windows down, settle into your favorite table at Gourmet House of Hong Kong. And I can't help but fear that those sacred places will become not homes to return to but memories to index. These days are draped in uncertainty, and while I've generally found that a welcome adventure, tonight I find it pulling my eyes backwards, not toward tomorrow.