Events transpired much more quickly than I could have anticipated. When I wrote the first Change of Venue blog on Friday night I knew I was going to visit a friend in Ohio on Saturday. I did not know that the following conversation would take place once I was in Ohio:

Friend: “You need anything? ‘Nother drink?”
Me: “Eh, maybe. Not sure what I want though.”
F: “Another diet Coke?”
M: “Nah.”
F: “Coffee?”
M: “Hmm…maybe.”
F: “There’s a great coffee shop down the street.”
M: “Really? You know, on my latest blog I’ve been saying I was going to blog from a coffee shop…”

I didn’t go right at that moment, but the thought stayed in my head, and today when my friend asked, “So, wanna do anything in particular?” I said, “Well, I think I’ll go write from that coffee shop. Not only is it a change of venue, it’s a change of state.”

So here I am, hanging out in a place called Stauf’s drinking a latte and enjoying the hell out of myself. It’s been a fabulous weekend hanging out with my friends, and this makes the desire to write rise to the surface. It’s pretty easy to sit down and scriptulate when I’m not in my house with its many ready distractions (finishing the shower, cleaning, laundry, replacing the oil pan on the Chevelle – you know, the usual).

This place is pretty much how you’d want a coffee shop to be. It’s an independent, so it looks suitable cool and funky. There are the requisite 20-somethings with appropriately unkempt-looking hair working the counter. Without moving my head at all I can spot four other laptops. A red-haired girl sits to my right working on something out of a school text, and the necessary dude in dreadlocks just walked in with his canvas man purse slung to one side. It’s all rolled together into a cliche with which I’m quite comfortable right now (oh, and by the way, if anyone can instruct me as to how to put the accent marks over the “e” for latte and for cliche, I’d sure love to know. The incorrectness is driving me nuts.)

I can’t be much of anything except relaxed right now. I’ve got air conditioning, caffeine, and a laptop. I’m doing one of the things I love to do most right now, and it is physically impossible for me to be removed for some other task at this moment. Call it escapist if you like, but I really think it’s just exploiting a window of opportunity. I love my window.

Speaking of, there is a wall of windows immediately to my left. This is an old store front along a row of similar buildings. It could have been a grocery in the past, or a hardware store, or a dress shop, but the idea back then was that you’d have all your wares displayed in the windows so that when folks walked by (as there were no malls back in those glorious days) people could see things that might attract their attention, and then come inside for a look, and hopefully a purchase.

What this affords me in the present day is a gorgeous view of the street outside. The weather this weekend has been unbelievably gorgeous – cool, breezy, hardly any humidity. It’s the definition of perfect Midwestern weather. As such there is a large amount of foot traffic, and I have the opportunity to do some people watching, plus some machinery watching as various cars and motorcycles wheel past.

I have no desire to leave this place. Actually, several times when I’ve visited here I’ve thought that this town, and this particular part of this town, is really where I should move to, and really for no reason at all other than the fact that I get a good vibe from it. Then again, my friends and their kids are so awesome, maybe I just take those feelings and throw them out into the area.

It’s probably a combination of factors, perhaps just the desire to escape from the reality of some of my responsibilities back home. Tomorrow will lead to yet another day at the same old job, the job that doesn’t encourage growth in any of my natural abilities. Hell, last night I had the greatest conversation with another woman at my friend’s house. She’s running an art studio, and so we talked about various creative pursuits, and she was very encouraging of my desire to build some kinetic art – those rolling ball sculptures that I’ve got in the back of my head. She asked me why I hadn’t done any of it yet, and I said, “Well, I got some parts made up for it, and then I realized how big it was going to have to be, and I don’t have room to build that big!” And she said, “It’s too bad you don’t live around here or you could rent one of my studios. We need someone like that in there.” And in my head there was this little voice going, “YES! That’s what I need! I need a place to build these things!”

So I said, “Yeah, I can’t find space like that close enough to my house to make it worthwhile. But I still want to do it. I was thinking last night, ‘I really don’t use my dining room furniture. I should just get rid of it, get rid of my stereo, some other stuff, then I could just build the whole thing in my living room.”
She said, “You should do that! You obviously want to build it!”
I replied, “I did think about it, and I would do that, but then I’d have to tear up the carpet, ’cause I’d set it on fire with the welding.”
She said, “Is it nice carpet?”
“No. It’s gross. It’s turquoise.”
“Then you should totally do that!”

I love that. I love that thinking. ‘Tear up your carpet, sell your furniture, and build something.’ Really, the world works for me like that. I’m still probably not going to do it, but to have a conversation with someone who thinks that’s a good idea – that just makes the world a better place for me to live in.

What we did discuss me doing is working, or at least starting, on a smaller scale. We talked about copper wire as opposed to recycled car and motorcycle parts. I’d like to make a tabletop design for a relative of mine, a little boy who loves to sit still and watch things. I’m going to go to the hardware store and see what I can find in the way of materials.

My latte has nearly bottomed out here, my friends. I believe it’s time for me to go. I’m glad you could all come along with me for my off-site, outta-state litscribblings. Stay tuned for posts from the shop, and – Kevin’s ultimate curiosity – the meaning of writing “from the pits at the drag strip.” Rock on.