::fragments::

I was in a Thrifty's store with S. and some other folks, sitting by the glass door entrance. S. and I had our three year old little boy with us, who was very bouncy. I was talking to a guy who was kneeling down near me, and he accidentally broke some glass behind him in the door. Later, I accidentally broke another piece of glass behind us, and the manager had to come out and take a report from me. He thought I had broken all the glass, but I hadn't.

Our little boy began writing on curtains with a red pen, and S. grabbed him, pulled his pants down and dramatically began to spank him. I grabbed the little boy away from S. protectively and began to comfort him, explaining to S. that all children write on curtains at some point. I was somewhat shocked to see S. behave this way. I comforted the little boy until he was calm and not crying or scared anymore.

I was laying on the couch in my living room, struggling to awaken. When I woke up, I realized I had to call Anthony. I had left him in Joshua Tree the day before. I couldn't recall if I had paid for an extra campsite for us or if he was camping with his family and others and I had camped with them. S. was clicking away at the keyboard and the stereo was on, loud. I stood up and got my cell phone to call Anthony. I had trouble finding his number, then trying to dial on my cell phone. I walked over to the stereo and Anthony answered. He had already guessed I wasn't going to be coming out again, since I had just left yesterday (the drive was too long). He told me he was becoming Bettyphobic--that he was not looking forward to talking to Betty. I asked him why but couldn't hear him because the stereo was too loud, so I tried to turn it off. It wouldn't shut off. Anthony said he was going fishing. I asked him where but couldn't hear his reply. I kept flipping the switch of the stereo, which was back in the closet, and it wouldn't turn off. I told S. it wasn't turning off and he just shrugged and went back to what he was doing at his computer. Anthony sounded a long way off and I could barely hear him. At least he understood I was not returning that day.

I had the most exquisitely done "lucky 13" tattooed on my left under forearm. I was shocked, since there was a part of me that was not certain I wanted to have that on me for life. It was black, with lots of shading, and had subtle flames coming off of it. It was huge and I was a little anxious that it was there.