A Very Unusual Day
by Pamela Goode
Okay, so it’s Tuesday, and clearly a twofer is indicated. But I ask you, where does it end?
Last night my brother and I sat on the porch looking at stars. I was thrilled to pick out my first red star, Antares, which we easily identified with a handy app on his IPad. Way cool. Making my way around some rocking chairs to approach the railing, both feet caught on a large — very large — wooden door stop attached at an angle on the porch floor. Over I keeled, creating a perfect arc and landing on my face. Banged, scraped, egg-knotted, and bleeding lightly, I clamored up over a rocker and continued the star search, then crawled into bed and emailed Vernon about my starry night.
This morning I happened upon Emma Biggs’ fabulous blog . . . detailing a nearly identical fall, sadly with a great deal more damage than mine (heal quickly Emma!). Then an email from Vernon, startled that the very next communication in his morning queue after my star tale is a slideshow on stars and the Hubble telescope. I then check Facebook. Within my first eight status updates, two mention heading out to the garden, and two more mention picking up a car from the repair shop. Okay, this is getting fun. More fun for me than for Vernon, who is headed off for TWO dental appointments.
I take a long walk on the beach, mulling over whether to turn my eyes upward or toward the sand, composing a few humorous lines about jellyfish carcasses vs the danger of overhead seagulls.
On my way to the farm stand before lunch, I wonder about the tradition of intuitive naming in Native American and Buddhist traditions — at that moment the radio announcer utters the word “Buddhism.”
Back on the beach, I’m getting excited about my thoughts manifesting, and settle back in my chair with closed eyes to follow where my mind leads. I feel a heavy drop of “rain” splash on my right shoulder, and open my eyes to see that the “rain” is white. Okay, 55 years, and I’ve never once been shit on by a seagull, or any bird for that matter, and suddenly it happens less than an hour after I think it?
Now of course I’m wondering why I can’t manifest an art sale or commission . . . when my cell phone rings. It’s a writer out of Minnesota, and she wants to interview me for an article on artists in the SouthEast . . . .
I’m excited about tomorrow.
Oh, and by the way, the dog above is a freebie. I saw him on my beach walk and liked the way he sat on his private island in the sun. I haven’t found the other half of his story yet, but it won’t surprise me.