It’s a thin line, that break between reality and the fantasy world. Navigating that thin line is a task I am supposedly well adapted to handle.
I’m not sure what became what, when, on Sunday. As a professional astrologer, I can write it all off to the fact that Mercury was backwards. In Sagittarius. My sign. My stuff.
Expectations were zero. About the time the call came in, “My friends from LA are here, let’s dash off to meet them,” I begged out. I’d been running at a manic pace all day. Started innocuously enough, I suppose, withy a simple client-Kramer breakfast at Bouldin. It’s not like I had a lot of sleep from the previous night, either. Not that I needed much, but I just didn’t have much.
Then came a quick dash to the Blue Genie art & crafts fair, which, I might add, was a certainly a cut above the usual fare available. Each booth displayed material that was distinct in its own right.
I called Sister, “Hey, you still using that flimsy plastic thing for a wallet?”
I picked her up a selection of wallets, user friendly, artistically rendered, and made of animal-free plastic. Or something. Found a nice hat for her. Leopard skin print with kitty ears.
Then we wandered off to the mall. Not really a good idea, the last weekend before xmoose, but it did result in my Aquarius friend snagging her “impossible to buy for brother-in-law” a bottle of hot sauce. Where I mentioned the old “scorned woman hot sauce,” and the guy behind the counter asked about it.
“Dude, on the scale? It goes to 11,” I explained.
Stopped at the Apple store, picked up an iTunes gift card for Sister and a peripheral that Pa Wetzel requested.
Somehow we wound up at the Austin Museum of Art and the Andy Goldsworthy display. Interesting artwork. Rather, it was pictures of sculptures and installations done in nature, and quite breathtaking. Which meant we ran into the birthday girl – friend-of-a-friend. Introductions. Coffee. Sushi.
Then it all gets blurry, something about a roller derby skater named by her Indian name, “Little Bladder Full of Beer.” Or maybe it was Blanche Davidian. And Mona Littlemore.
“You got your Jewish Mother Guilt, the Xtian guilt, usually, Catholic, and finally, my mom was a hippie. Hippie Guilt. She would ask, ‘Are you aware of the natural consequences of your actions?’ Every time. Worse than the other guilts.”
I forgot the Tofu steak. That was good, too. Don’t even ask – almost as good as chicken-fried tofu.
