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Every Day is Wednesday

    Every Day Is Wednesday If this were a normal year, right now I would be driving a rental car from Phoenix to Flagstaff. My best bud Theresa would be next to me in the passenger seat. She would scroll through her Spotify playlist. “So, Lynette,” she’d say, “what do you want to hear? James Taylor? Linda? Emmy Lou?” “How about Jackson Browne?” “Nope, I want you to hear this song by Jason Isbell.” And sure enough, the song would be great. Jason Isbell would be fabulous. I would have to tap my fingers on the steering wheel. Yep,Theresa was right, darn it. We’d cruise up hills dotted with mesquite and juniper. We’d watch clouds darken and we’d pull over in the blinding deluge of a monsoon. We’d grab extra-hot lattes at the Camp Verde Starbucks and drink them parked under the bright-yellow giant Kokopelli statue out front. We’d never stop talking - except when realtor Theresa would be on the phone making deals. I would watch the desert change from sage and scrub to Ponderosa forest.  Ther

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