We arrived in Colorado Springs yesterday, and Jon and Caitlin took me to a bar where I had chicken and waffles for the first time in my entire life. Have you had chicken and waffles at precisely the right time in your life? I hope so, because the snow-capped mountains hunched over town, the dry mountain air, and the sky with just a few scrapes of cloud were the ley lines that transported chicken and waffles across the void and into my life at a moment of good fortune so pure and true I almost didn’t finish my beer. We are creatures of great disorder and strange ailments, but chicken and waffles is a food we can eat. I didn’t bring my laptop on this trip, so I’m hurriedly tapping this out on my phone before packing yet more wine glasses into yet another box marked “fragile,” all the while savoring the memory of chicken and waffles.

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