One Long Shortcut

  Chapter 71 — The Moon, the Foxes, and Mr. Rock It was the Moon Festival, and the moon looked so bright and oversized it might as well have been a movie prop. The perks of living in a small town: no skyscrapers to block the fake-looking super harvest moon. I watched it from random parking lots, then just opened the van doors for a better view — peak romance, vanlife edition. The next day I checked out The Momentary , an offshoot of Crystal Bridges that used to be a Kraft Cheese Factory. Only in Bentonville can fine art and processed cheese share the same space. The exhibits were a mix of things I half-understood and things that made me wonder if confusion was part of the art. Still, the mosaic portraits and the giant industrial press printer were oddly inspiring — I now have ideas for this year’s homemade holiday card that involve glue sticks and chaos. The staff were friendly enough to indulge me photographing Don Don with a big milk hatch and “Mr. Rock,” a literal pet rock. W...

  Chapter 66: The One That Got Away (Again) It was meant to be a lazy Saturday at Lake Fort Smith — bagels, lox, and lounging — but Nelson’s “just a bit of work” turned into a full-day affair. By the time we made it lakeside, it was nearly dinner time. Naturally, Nelson decided it was the perfect hour to start fishing. I humored him, even lent him my spinner rod since the lake wasn’t fly-friendly. He got a bite — allegedly a “big one” — but it got away before I saw it. He did, however, admit that my casting skills were impressive. (I told him precision is my hidden superpower.) Then it got dark. Nelson refused to stop. So there I was again, cooking chicken fajitas by lantern light while my husband chased imaginary fish. They turned out delicious, but I still sulked. He apologized, swore he’d be “a new man” tomorrow. I’ve heard that one before. Chapter 67: The Zen of Not Catching Fish Sunday arrived with Nelson’s redemption arc. No crack-of-dawn fishing. No bait talk over br...

  Chapter 63 – Slippery When Living Monday was business as usual—admin catch-up at Crystal Bridges Café, fries that deserved a public apology (burger was good though!), and a home-cooked salmon dinner that tried its best despite Walmart’s idea of “filet” being something between a fish and a porcupine. Then Tuesday arrived, and Arkansas decided to remind me why people here take weather personally. It started with rain—the kind that makes you feel virtuous just for staying indoors. But soon it was less “gentle cleanse of the earth” and more “biblical audition.” The van rocked in the wind like an anxious washing machine. After dropping Nelson off, I parked at a lot and tried to nap through it, but the gusts made me feel like a coin in a piggy bank. When the storm warnings upgraded to “severe,” I thought, “Great, it’s my first oil change day!” Because obviously, where else would I want to be but a Jiffy Lube garage surrounded by puddles of motor oil during a thunderstorm? My slip-and-...

  Chapter 60 – Admin, Pasta, and Pea Ridge Reflections Coming off the high of Nelson’s birthday weekend was tough—perfect campsite, weather, and food made it feel almost magical. Back in reality, I started the week with chores at Crystal Bridges. I signed an indemnity letter in front of a (virtual) notary along with Cooper. Normally I’d be bashful, but needing reliable WiFi, I took the video call from the café while everyone around me chatted and ate. At the same time, I finalized landlord insurance for our New York condo. So much admin! I really don’t know how I ever balanced this alongside a full-time job. No wonder I used to be constantly stressed. After that, I treated myself to pasta carbonara. It used to be my go-to dish when Nelson traveled, so it felt comforting to make it again. I picked up some fresh Rana pasta at Walmart and cooked it in the parking lot of the Walton Fitness Center. Somehow, even out of the kitchen, it turned out delicious. Tuesday brought more admin ...