LIFE ON THE INSIDE
Part VIII: Can You Hear Me Now?
As it turns out, Brian Kelmar, the man I emailed after Mr. Google and I found him, is as much a mensch as Bob Sweeney is.
I’m in the car with my dear friend Sandra, the one who couldn’t get in the house to take care of the cats (what cats?!) until Bob climbed onto the deck with a ladder, got in, fed them and then wisely left the door open so a) Sandra could get in and care for the little buggers on a daily basis because of course she has nothing else to do, and b) so I could get in once I arrived. We’re on our way from Dulles Airport to Warrenton, our conversation laced with “These fucking kids” and “What were we thinking?” and “Why didn’t anyone warn us?” and finally, “But would we have listened?”
Nope.
These kids. They take and take until you’re The Giving Tree stump, letting them sit on the last of you and break what’s left of your back.
But I digress.
If you know anything about Northern Virginia, you know that the route from Dulles to Warrenton is pretty good in terms of a cell signal. But, should you be forced off 29 to detour into the Vint Hill section of Fauquier County (of which Warrenton is a part and which is pronounced, say it with me now, FAW-KEER) all bets are off. Really. If your car dies while you’re wandering, lost…
