Wednesday, June 3, 2009
The good and bad news about being a psychic
The good news is, I am truly psychic. The bad news? I don't get to decide how that works. For instance, I can not intuit winning lottery numbers or "see" clearly whether or not a relationship is meant to be. I don't know who will win the Academy Awards or the presidency or a football game and I am terrible at predicting the weather.
But I am psychic, really I am. For instance: one day many years ago in San Francisco I suddenly developed a serious jones for a yo-yo. I needed a yo-yo bad. Unable to resist the impulse, I got myself to a toy store and bought a lovely, shiny, brand new yo-yo, after which I spent the rest of that afternoon baffled about the intensity of the urge, since, once I got to yo-yoing, I remembered that I had never really liked it much as a kid.
The next day, I watched a report on TV about some people in Michigan who had celebrated "National Yo-Yo Day" with a marathon of yo-yoing. Ah! So I am psychic, I thought to myself. But ... who cares about tuning in to National Yo-Yo Day?
Yesterday I was contemplating the end of my dog's long life. I was asking myself, Will I miss having to step over napping dog bodies all the time? (There are three dogs in this house, all of whom are fond of napping in doorways and other areas of heavy traffic.) I decided I would not miss that bit of being a dog owner, not at all.
An hour later, rushing through the foyer with a basket full of clean laundry, I tripped over the sleeping body of Shadow, the other venerable old dog in the house. Flew through the air (so did the laundry), banged my knee and shoulder, cursed myself for not paying more attention. Poor Shadow was gasping for air, she was so upset.
She's OK and I'm OK and yes yes, I'm psychic, but ... couldn't this talent be put to better use? Honestly!
From the southwest corner of Lincoln Park, a lovely winding diagonal path has been carved out of the lawn by those of us going back and forth to Eastern Market. This is a "walking tour" from the corner to the weird Lincoln statue in the center of the park.