I have some short thoughts to plop down. The rollercoaster of getting settled in Nashville has finally slid onto the tracks with a dependable rhythm. Below are some random catch-ups.

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There's a scene in the movie Titanic that I bet every one of you can recall - the scene when the grand piano is sliding. Well, that's how I feel in my Dr. Seuss room at Hillsboro House when my footing rides the waves of floorboard. I am so serious about this. Again, I find this to be a testimony to the charm I inhale here. I think repressed dreams have surfaced to come true? Though I live in a newer house in Monteagle, my inherent delight is drawn to creakier homes. The stuff of Hillsboro House is more like a homemade layer cake sloppily slathered with chocolate butter cream icing rather than a petite four that's been corseted with stiff sugary icing. (Oops, I think I just got carried away with pointless metaphors.) Very simply, I like my wavy floors that creak and groan and make me smile.

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Five days ago I purchased an inexpensive wireless printer at a newly opened Wal*Mart. Prior to moving to Tennessee I'd never been to a Wal*Mart. So what the heck is wrong with me! I now have this huge beautiful city with expansive malls and zillions of technology-geared stores to choose from and I end up at Wal*Mart? I can be such a knucklehead.

I guess one might describe the part of town where this new Wal*Mart is located as an area that will never be in transition, which is the optimistic word used to describe an area in positive flux - an area on the upswing from decay to restoration - when investors spend buckets of money to upgrade an area. This area is a stabilized area of gloom. So, as I gingerly poked around these mean streets trying to locate Wal*Mart, I started to think about Sandy Dennis in the Out-of-Towners. It's one of my favorite movies, which also starred Jack Lemmon. At least she had Jack and his chipped tooth that whistled. I locked my doors, which I rarely do intentionally.

I seldom use handicap parking because I really don't need it yet, but it's a nice option for the future. As I finally pulled up to Wal*Mart, I saw an able-bodied young man about to slide into the driver's seat of his car, which was parked in a handicap slot. Before he slid in I was able to catch the glint of gold foil on his front teeth, gravity defying pants that were slung to look like saggy Capris, and lots of in-your-face gangsta body ink. I ruminated several possibilities of what his handicap might be. None were flattering.

After I parked my car, I debated whether or not to wear my surgical mask because of the unfortunate misunderstandings it might cause. I wore it anyway. Hey, given a terminal diagnosis, one starts to walk on the wild side a bit.

I regret to report that with this particular Wal*Mart I entered the Land of Rude. Customer Service was non-existent, but this should soon be no problem because no one will be returning... at least I won't be. In this time of economic woes, I find it stunning that not one person seemed grateful to be employed. (Hmmm, I do recall reading that Wal*Mart often doesn't treat its employees well, but I personally don't think that was the problem.) The employees were just a sad, rude lot.

For the past 6 years I'd have done anything to work... even at Wal*Mart. The irony.