02 October 2009

Fortunate

This evening after a dinner of cheap Chinese I cracked open my fortune cookie and found out two fortunes:

1. Seek friendship and you will find someone special this month.
2. An unexpected visitor will bring you good blessings.

Sounds like October may just live up to my expectations. I've got high hopes.

But there were other surprises today I enjoyed today as well, other pieces of good fortune:

• Ibuprofen and a hot shower made an effective pain killer team today, in less time than it usually takes to take my mean and nasty cramps down to a bearable level. (By the way, last night I dreamed a friend gave me a handful of the most lovely blue jewels of pain killers, as magical as any fairy tale beans. Wish I could remember who that friend was; I'd be calling her to make good on that offer.)

• Because of the above, I was able to drive to Salt Lake with Rob, on business. He willingly listened as I read my Master Gardener homework aloud, and also didn't mind when I pulled out my tweezers and gave my eyebrows, etc. the once-over. I told him it would entertain the other drivers on the freeway. The time passed quickly, and I was grateful to be well enough to go with him.

• But before we left, Rob went on some "errands," and when he came home he brought in Recanati accordion for me and delivered it with a sheepish smile. Craigslist. And I thought he was going to the P.O. It's got about six different voices and needs a little work here and there on the reeds. A few of the old Bakelite(?) keys need to be reglued. But it's a beaut! A Recanati Soprania Silvio, and it looks like a small Cadillac. It was cheap, so much cheaper than the one we waited too long for at D.I. So now we finally have a 120-bass. If you had told me at 17 that when I was this age I would want to pick up an accordion with the intent to actually play the thing, I would have laughed in your face. Now I laugh in my own face as I stand before the hall mirror with this vintage behemoth strapped onto me, trying to figure out where my hands should go.

• We dropped off some letterpress for a juried show at the U and got to have a fun chat with a guy we know who works with the Book Arts program, and also made a new friend who introduced me to the question "Are you lamb enough?" (I started to Google it and then realized I don't care what it really means. It's just a great question.) If our books make it into this show, guess which VIP will be coming to town and seeing them? Laura Bush!

• We ran into a great friend in the U parking lot; he was going to do some research on papermaking. It was a perfectly-timed crossing of paths. I like it when that happens.

• We stopped at REI and I finally got a replacement for my well-loved and shiveringly-missed down coat, which disappeared over a year ago. (Did somebody steal it from my porch in time for last winter? All I have left is the red hood.) This new one is plain but it has a more tailored fit, and doesn't make me look quite as much like a stuffed sausage.

• Coming home on I-15, I finally learned a successful way to cope with heavy rush hour traffic and keep the awful white knuckle panic out of my system: I close my eyes. When I'm in the passenger's seat, that is.

• This evening, we went to Chris Clark's production of Charlotte's Web at UVU. First we went to the wrong theater and ticket counter; they were closed. Then a nice woman named J.C. who works with suicide prevention found us wandering around and gave us a ride to the right theater. We asked for standby tickets, and the fellow at the box office very nearly rolled his eyes; told us, essentially, that we had about a snowball's chance. But I insisted, and I think we were something like #367 and #368 on the list. But guess what! When showtime rolled around, miracle of miracles, every last one of the crowd of hopefuls hanging around in the foyer was eventually able to get in. Rob and I found the last pair of seats together, and we didn't even have to miss the beginning of the show. Now, that was lucky! (It was a fun and imaginative production, by the way. Good job, Chris and company!)

• I almost forgot to mention the moon. When J.C. was chauffeuring us around campus, we came around a bend and the moon was enormous! and white! and sitting smartly atop a perky mountain peak like it was watching for us. It made me laugh. An eager moon, watching the show.

• Last thing. Before we went to Salt Lake, Rob stopped at his folks' house to pick up some of Mum's and Jeanne's books to take to the U. I could tell he wanted me to wait in the car so it would be a quicker stop. The women were out somewhere but I really wanted to say hi to Dad, however, I respected Rob's sense of urgency and stayed put. A few minutes later, sick Dad and his rumpled hair came slowly outside with Rob just to say hi to me, and he gave me such a sweet greeting and loving hug that it melted me on the spot. I thought of this at different times through the rest of the day, and it choked me up each time. My own dad's been gone so long, my mom too, and I continue to really miss them as well as the chance to be somebody's daughter. Dad B.'s been my only father now for almost two decades. When he connects with me like he did today, I feel cared about, and I feel dadded. I know you don't read my blog, Dad, and that's fine, but I'll say this to you anyway and trust in the Universe to whisper it into your ear—I love you very much!

Every day should be so lucky as this one.

6 comments:

b. said...

I love reading about your days...and the beautiful way you live.
Love you.

Geo said...

B., my life's pretty plain but I like it that way. How would else would ibuprofen find its way onto my day's highlights list so often? It's about the little things, y'know? ; )

AzĂșcar said...

My fortune said "Accept the next proposition that you get."

I'm completely nervous.

Geo said...

What if it had said, "Accept the next preposition that you get at the end of a sentence"?

Jamie said...

I am so glad you're back. I clicked over this morning with admittedly low expectations, and VOILA! Six posts to devour! Takes the edge off the post-conference melancholy ;) Just wanted to say that the genuine-ness of Papa B.'s love and concern has had a similar effect on me at times (Of course, he really is YOUR dad now, lucky you). I think he has a real gift of transmitting love, to your marrow, and making you feel like you matter. I'm sad to think of him so ill the past few years...sigh...

Anyway, love you, Dear GeeBee. One of these days I am coming to visit with my little man and we will stay the night right there in Provo so we can get a Buchert refill to bring home to MT. I need to visit the PokySmiths, too, and meet the Africanized chunkymonkey! More sighing. I miss you much...

Geo said...

James, I love you too. If only you could get down here next weekend you'd get to see all the Utah, Idaho, and Hawaii Bucherts at once!