Susan McCorkindale

Author. Editor. Autism Advocate.



Yes, I’m going to miss Main Street

The movers come tomorrow. I’m excited and a little sad that I won’t get to speed walk through Old Town Warrenton every morning. I’m going miss it.

I’m going to miss wondering where the “Open” and “Shut” signs went that Pablo used to have on the doors of Great Harvest every day. The “Shut” sign always cracked me up.









And I’m going to miss how pretty the hanging plants look along Main Street.










Whenever I walk, I pretend I’ve never been here before, which probably accounts for how startled I am when people wave to me. Joe Martin was getting into his car one morning and he waved and I was like, whoa, that guy knows me? Earth to Susan! Stop with the Jedi mind tricks. But it’s fun to pretend I’ve never been here because it allows me to see things in my pretty town I hadn’t noticed previously. Like how gorgeous the windows are in Designs By Teresa,









and how commanding and elegant the court house is.










When I reach this spot, I cross and practically run to see what’s in the windows at Shelf Life.

I’m safest at Shelf Life at 6:30am, when I can’t go in and go broke.









I think I need this for my new place. Not that I bake or do more than pour wine in my kitchen.










Of course I don’t only walk along Main Street. I like to cut up and down the side streets, too. Great soups here









Neat treasures here…









And lots of hats here. I gotta stop in here one day during business hours. I could totally embrace my hattitude!










I walk past the Fauquier Times office and wave. I know. No one’s there yet. But still. Hmm. You think maybe my therapist should open an office on Culpeper Street? Then I could walk there, too, sit on her stoop and be her first appointment of the day, every day.


Oh wait, that won’t work. She’s going to have to open an office near Marshall’s cause that’s closer to my new place. A Marshall’s within walking distance. Dear God, that’s as bad as living within walking distance of DeJaVu. And Shelf Life.







And the super cool Black Bear Mercantile.









Maybe I should simply get a treadmill and speed walk in the safety of my new home. Then I could double my pretending. I could pretend I’m walking through Old Town while pretending to be on vacation and we can all go on pretending that my therapist doesn’t need to move near Marshall’s. You know, I’m going to miss my early morning walks on Main Street almost as much as I miss what was left of my mind.












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A few reasons why I love Warrenton

Because most of the shop owners on Main Street have water bowls set out for dogs. Drum and Strum’s is my favorite.

Because even if I’m not feeling or for that matter, looking, particularly angelic, I can try on a pair of wings and convince myself I’m gonna rock Heaven’s socks. If I can get past Saint Peter.

Because I swear I used to own this tank top.

Because I can get advice from a bear without being in the woods. And it’s darn good advice, too.

Because the sign in front of Deja Brew always makes my day.

Because sometimes I make fantastic discoveries like a sale at my favorite store. And who can resist a sale?

Because there’s always someplace pretty to stop and take a break from my walk which I really shouldn’t do lest I end up looking like that advice giving bear.

And because clearly my little town welcomes odd balls like me (with their own club, no less). Maybe one day I’ll try to join. I’m not a fellow but I’m definitely an odd chick speed walking down Main Street in the morning sun, stopping to snap pics with my iPhone and sweating all over the screen

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Just say yes







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Dear Cuyler, Grandma is here

as you can tell by the fact that the fridge is full.









Can you believe this thing? I don’t think it’s this jam packed when you’re home which means I’m not winning Mother of the Year anytime soon but still. Yogurt and rolls and eggs and all manner of gooey deliciousness and leftovers – leftovers! which means she’s cooking! and I’m eating! – in our refrigerator. It’s terrifying. And I’m not the only one who’s flipped out. The pots and pans are too. I heard them talking among themselves just yesterday, kvetching about some woman who keeps putting them to work. Ok, maybe I thought I heard that. I blame it on the chicken cutlets she made last night. And the corn. And the mashed potatoes. All this food. I’m unsure what I’m more frightened of, the fridge or the scale, so I’m trying to steer clear of both.

Seriously Cuy, I’ve had to run the dishwasher twice – twice! – since her arrival. Do you know how many plates I used between your departure for New Zealand and Grandma’s arrival? None. Dinner is Tostitos straight out of the bag and wine. I put the bag away and wash the glass. And sometimes I don’t even do that. I mean, I’m only going to use it again the next night so why bother? God, why am I telling you this? You’re such a germaphobe. Don’t worry, I do rinse the glass and I certainly make sure Jenn and Sandra don’t use it when they come over for wine and cheese and crackers. (Look! I even eat cheese and crackers. Tostitos, cheese, crackers and wine. The diet of champions!)

Come home soon, my champion. I promise to have the fridge full of things you like. And if I’m recovered from Grandma’s food festival, I might even cook them.


Mom xo

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