On a Christmas break, I visited my college boyfriend and his family in Oregon. He made sure I experienced ALL that his state had to offer. At a Duck’s basketball game, they had a special halftime competition that still makes me smile!
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Leaving a doctor’s appointment, I noticed a police officer walking along behind an emerald bird about six inches tall.
I paused.
I recognized the bird as a Monk parrot. More than a dozen years ago I’d had one as a pet and had read articles about feral colonies of these brilliant-colored birds living in Austin. Was this an escaped pet or the descendant of one who traded its cage for freedom?
“Have you tried to pick it up?” I asked the policeman.
“No, but you’re welcome to give it a shot.”
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“Hey, I am going to steal your wallet now. See. I have my hands on it. Watch me take it.” —Said no robber ever.
It’s almost funny to think about, because it doesn’t happen. I thought about an announced robbery when I read these words, “Comparison is truly the thief of joy.” A student included them in a letter through Letters About Literature, a program where students write to authors about how their books made a personal impact.
With those words, I remembered our house being robbed...
In Galveston, I had a quirky tour guide with flowing blonde hair and sunglasses at night. He was off topic more than he was on and I didn’t mind. I was along for the ride, listening to his stories until the last stop. “Valentines Day: every woman’s favorite holiday. Am I right, men?” He elaborated on how women like to feel loved “yadda yadda yadda.” I don’t remember; I’d stopped listening. His glance returned to me, expecting more smiles and nodding. I shot him a stone face. He corrected, “Well maybe not all women.”
I wanted to jump in and explain that Valentine’s IS one of my favorite holidays, but not for the reasons you assume, Sir! I wanted to tell him the story about my dad and the balloons!
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During my last workout of the year, the swimmer in the lane next to me frogged his legs out and almost kicked me a few times. It’s par for the course, but once or twice his hands skimmed my torso.
It startled me, if I’m honest—I felt a bit violated. “STAY IN YOUR LANE!” I yelled under the water.
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As we ambled along Newport, Rhode Island's Cliff Walk, soaking in the coastal breezes, my then-boyfriend (now husband) Steve announced, "someday we're going to bring little Sebastian here."
"Who's little Sebastian?" I asked.
"The dog we're going to get," he said matter-of-factly.
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One day, the gym’s spinning room door was cracked open. I peddled and I saw people waiting around, not joining our class. Suddenly, what I thought was only a wall parted open!
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The radio host couldn’t believe it. “Wait. So you JUST signed your whole family up for the 5k and didn’t tell them?”
His co-host responded, “Yeah, this way, the morning is planned. We will all get up and it will be a done deal. There isn’t an out. We earn the turkey.”
While this woman seemed certain a forced holiday run was a good idea, I was with the other host as he asked, “What if they don’t want to go? Are you sure this is a good surprise?”
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I can’t finish these crackers. Seconds earlier, it was a different story. “Cream cheese and Ritz, TOGETHER IN A CRACKER?” I commented to the flight attendant. I was already planning to ring my “call button” for a couple extras. But I’m a bit in and the saltiness is a little overwhelming. I'd rather eat packs of peanuts than feel a tummy ache.
I look at this pack of crackers and don’t want to waste them. Honestly, I feel guilty. The bonus about planes is the time they give time me to think. I take a moment.
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