The Ides of February

Magnolia

Oakland, CA (outside our kitchen window)

February, 2007

And so we arrive at the apex of February. This means, of course, that our magnolia tree is yet again enjoying its yearly adolescence. It's innumerable fuschia blossoms burst forth in hormonal fashion and exude a subtle but devastating fragrance such that the ants wading through its sappy branches go bonkers and start singing love songs.

Mid-February also means that, hey, it's President's Day! Happy President's Day everyone! If Grover Cleveland were alive today he would be 172 years old, which was the same age, incidentally, as Ms. Chamberlain, my piano teacher, when I was growing up:

Ms. Chamberlain

Mid-February also means that if you want a permit for a backpacking trip in Yosemite for August 3rd (exactly 24 weeks from now), you have to go down to the 24 hour Kinkos at midnight and fax in your wilderness permit application. Getting your permit request fax'd exactly at midnight improves your chances of actually obtaining the permit for the trail you want. And so I found myself at Kinkos tonight.


Our 24 hour Kinkos is in a very bad part of town, meaning it's located by train tracks, a freeway and a Denny's. The Kinkos itself, though, is a delight once you are safe and sound inside. There is good florescent lighting and lots of neatly stacked paper in colors with names like Rocket Red and Wasabi. The store smells like stale coffee and those carbon copy handouts my fourth grade teacher used to give me. There are paper clips and pens and a stapler if you need them. There are also pastey college students frantically collating their research papers. I like to sit and watch them. They're a hoot. Additionally, I find the hum of the copy machines soothing. It's soothing like a dryer running in the background is soothing when you take a Saturday afternoon nap on the couch.


The other night, my wife, Lydia, and I were wondering what to do for Valentines Day. I suggested we simply head down to Kinkos. Maybe we could help some college students with their collation. She simply rolled her eyes and quietly murmured "Dust Buster" much the same as the guy who says "Rose Bud" in the movie Citizen Cane. Ahh yes, the Dust Buster Incident. So I had bought her a dust buster for Mother's Day several years before. We all make bad choices. We just have to remember not to make them twice.