Saturday, July 7, 2007

Hot Dogs


Arizona. Two words. "Hot" and "Dogs". When united they form the compound Hotdog, which may cause uncultured taste buds to salivate in anticipation, but my palette, long accustomed to vegetarian fare, snubs the word without savor. Those tasteless near-meat links lathered in condiments do little more to entice me than 100 plus temperatures or minions of mans best friend. However, Arizona boasts something that I long for; Oni- my mom, Owen and Bodhi's grandma- a very wonderfully wacky woman. With her, even the Hot Dogs seem more palatable. Her ready laugh and easy tears, hiking boots and weathered hands. These are the memories that creep soundlessly into my mind when thoughts return to my point of origin, "mom".

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