Halloween at the DMV

So my plates officially say Nevada. I waited at the DMV between a meeting for work and yoga class with other staff. I took a nap in between, right before yoga, on the floor of my apartment. I woke up all groggy, reminded of my allergies in Charlottesville and how I felt in that valley, trapped. I kept one of my Virginia plates and it now sits on the floor in the front seat of my car. I am still not used to it.

With the traffic being so unpredictable I was late to yoga, almost too late to go in and join the rest of the group. At the end of class while relaxing into my breath, that familiar comfort feeling washed from the tip of my heart to the edge of my hands and feet. It filled me, that warm blood rushing around inside.

When I got home I made my mom's halloween cupcakes. He had to remake the icing because we used butter instead of margarine and it came out all light brown and soupy. The icing is supposed to be bright white and thick so that it can stick to the cupcakes and hold the candy pumpkin that goes on top. But after forgetting sugar, then the margarine, another trip to the grocery store to get the candy pumpkins would be a little too much. It's getting late and I'm going to a yoga class at 8 am tomorrow morning followed by a day of work, and then we are going to see Bell Hooks read at UNLV.

Tomorrow seems to be my first real full day since moving to Las Vegas. And I even have to start writing a novel tomorrow because my best friend in LA and I are participating in the write a novel in november club. I guess it's a club, since it's an organization of people who expect you to keep writing, just get it out, no matter how good or bad it is. I am hoping that I actually do this and that it's not just an idea. We shall see. I am going to LA for Thanksgiving so between the writing and eating I am hoping that I don't miss Virginia too much.

After remaking the icing it still doesn't look right. It's not that bright, white color I remember so well from when my mom made them. But it tastes the same as I remember, which I guess is all that matters. But I know that no matter how many years I make these cupcakes, they will never compare to the way she makes them.


Cooking Pumpkin Seeds

Salt clinging to the
bottom of the pan
crispy-crewy, hands sticky

Kitchen smells move in and out
nails turned soft from the sweet mess
tangled strings orange and discolored

I wipe a grain of salt
from the corner
of your mouth

that moisture-filled sculpture
with its small eyes
an unseen voyeur

Heat from the oven against my back
that thick smell wearing us
following us all the way upstairs.

Halloween, 2003