FINALLY the astrology lady shows Taurus some love. For quite some time, it has been the practice at our house for me to read the daily horoscopes to Husband at breakfast and point out how underappreciated our shared birth sign is. The newspaper astrologist routinely showers us with cracks like, “Today people will give you credit for more talent than you have.” Husband pretends not to care (or sometimes even notice I’m reading to him) but I know how deep the Bull pride can go since I have horns of my own. Then a few mornings ago, we May babies awoke to find our cleverness acknowledged with the above-mentioned accolade and I knew the rest of the day would prove it out.
Right away something popped up on eBay to show me I was on the right track in my thinking. I did a search for Vintage Women’s Watches because I like vintage watches and I needed something to warm up with before I searched the online college library for journals to use for my lit paper, and I came across the following description: “Vintage Bulova circa 1950, a beauty, pristine crystal, original bezel, missing one hand. Not sure if that’s how it was made.” Well, here’s the thing: I WAS SURE! It was made with two hands! All the clean crystals and original bezels in the world aren’t going to get that puppy to tell you the time without that other hand. So right away I had a potential problem deflected by my intelligence. I logged onto the school library feeling very protected by my superior brain power.
I scrolled the online database for texts that might inspire me in the direction of focusing my very broad paper theme toward something more specific. I did a Boolean search for toni morrison AND murder AND suicide since when it comes to Toni Morrison, you damn well better expect murder and suicide to be showing up before chapter one is over, and sure enough, JSTOR spit out a dozen pages of hits. I downloaded a slew to peruse later and then jumped in the car to keep an appointment with my fitness trainer, Faith, the individual entrusted with keeping me from being a humpbacked hag crackling with osteoporitic bones in my golden years. Five miles on the parkway brought me to a complete standstill with the digital traffic sign overhead blinking: EXP*CT D*LAYS EX*TS 18 TO 25 and even with all the missing letters and hidden cryptic meaning I KNEW I WAS SCREWED.
I glanced down at my vintage watch and noticed it was running fast, but that still didn’t tempt me to bid on the one-hand-wonder in otherwise pristine condition on eBay. I reached into my purse to call Faith and let her know I would be late only to realize I left my phone by the computer. Potential problems were now coming at me faster than my intelligence could deflect them. I looked over to my right and saw that if I moved quickly I could exit the parkway, so I borrowed from the Gemini advice that promised “Lightning fast reflexes lift you up and lighten your load” and found myself on an unfamiliar stretch of road miles from my trainer’s town. Fortunately, the GPS was stowed under the passenger seat, and even though Husband is baffled by how someone as bright as I am still doesn’t know their way around an area they’ve lived in for twenty years, I had Virgo whispering in my ear, “You know that those who make decisions based on fear are sure to fail” and believe me when I tell you that being lost scares the crap out of me almost as much as being late aggravates me.
The problem with using a GPS is that it keeps trying to get you back on the highway you just got off of because it’s the only way it wants to take you, possibly due to control issues of its own. To direct the device to avoid major highways, I had to go into its settings and that meant pulling off the road to stop the car. Squeezed onto the shoulder with the other cars whizzing by, I persuaded my Garmin 350 to guide me to Faith’s on a roundabout route just short of Canada and I arrived fifteen minutes late with Faith watching at the window looking worried. “What happened?” she called out. “You’re never late.” I opened my mouth to begin my litany of excuses, but then Libra tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Acknowledge your faults and listen with your heart because what you hear as criticism may be genuine concern.” That annoying Libra is always such a smarty pants.
Daughter’s Fotos travel to us from Boyfriend’s Family Farm in PA
the barn
the berries
the king
the fungi
the dog