the cats are all on the bed, in the guestroom. the snow has all landed. it’s all here.

me and my dad went to breakfast this morning at the breakfast diner. uncle bob happened to show up at the same time, and he sat with us.

this is the kind of breakfast diner where everyone’s a regular, and everybody knows everybody else.

there are buffalo bills coats and hats everywhere. you cannot hide.

an older woman tells someone across the diner about her story from last night. “had to go to the buffalo airport last night. had to drive through all that awful snow. my grandson came in from california. he didn’t even have a coat on, ya know.”

i have my coat, but no gloves. and no car brush. my dad let me borrow his car brush.

my dad and uncle bob talk about another of their brothers, my uncle francis, who is every bit of mentally retarded. last week he threatened to kill a bunch of people at the ‘home’ he’d been staying at. they kicked him out. he ended up at strong memorial, on a gurney for four days, in the same clothes, they say. now, he’s at yet another home, until they realize his unpredictable temper, probably. “i’m getting tired of it” my dad says.

my brothers and sisters-in-law are coming into town tonight. if i am very lucky, i will be able to sleep in a bed, somewhere. there are not enough beds left.

in my car, that looks funny covered in snow, i drive back from the diner listening to the strokes. i like the strokes. i don’t care what you think.

i drive around a little and if i wanted to, i could tally the realtor signs in front of all the houses. there are a lot.

there are two shopping plazas in this 1/2-plaza town. one plaza lost it’s last store a few weeks ago. it has a huge parking lot with four cars. i guess that’s where the carpoolers meet.

in my car, i think of neat things i might write. i never remember them, whenever i get to wherever i’m going.

oh well i’ll need a shower.

if we don’t talk again before tomorrow, then have a happy thanksgiving if you want one, bye,

pass.