If you want to know your town — really know it well — you must watch it wake up.
Grant keeps e-mailing me with questions about all these outdoorsy-type things he wants to do — go hiking here, swim there, ride horses somewhere else — and I’m slowly catching on to the fact that he is waaaaaaay more athletic than I am and has spent the past decade doing all sorts of outdoor sports at roughly twice Coldwater’s altitude, which means I am going to have to whip my lazy arse into shape if I’m to have any hope of keeping up with him when he gets here.
With that in mind, I got up an hour ago and took myself for a jog through town.
I really didn’t cover that much ground –only a mile or so, and I walked a lot more than I ran — but it was kind of nice to be out on the quiet streets, watching the lights slowly come on in the houses and listening to dogs bark in backyards as the smell of bacon and coffee started to waft from a few kitchens and wary cats darted through the faint morning light to hide behind buildings at my approach.
It occurs to me that what Coldwater really needs is a diner — one of those early-morning places where the coffee always seems to be fresh and there’s always an old guy in a baseball cap eating sausage and eggs at the counter while the waitress tries to look less sleepy than she feels.
I wonder what it would cost to turn the Tumbleweed’s lobby into a diner? Miss Shirley said there was a small cafe in the front office area right after it was built, but it lasted only a couple of years and had already been closed for the better end of a decade by the time she moved in. I never found out why it closed.