Hooky, are you hosting this worthless piece or no? Call me and let me know, please.
Today I drove to Provo, for yet another bout of job interviews. I know that someday I'll walk into a place and they'll wave and hail me as the most interviewed/unhired girl they've ever met.
It was such a beautiful morning. Sprinklers were joyously misting their rainbows over the grass, old men in white Docker shorts raising weathered, tan arms to wave at me as I passed by. The sun was warm and golden, stretching its pretty fingers over the mountains, patting them like an sleepy mother pats her restless child.
I like Center Street. Two narrow lanes running alongside one another, racing until they reach the state hospital and the Castle Theater behind it. A row of rickety trees spreading out in the middle of the road, their leaves reaching tentatively out to brush the roof of my family's whale-blue Intrepid.
Provo really is sort of pretty. A tiny bit of country met by a tiny bit of a Chicago side street, with a heaping cup of Mormonga tossed in.
Remember Mormonga, Princess?