The last two days have flown by like some kind of heavy destiny wind blowing my sails. Maybe aaI have learned more about myself and how I react to external stimuli. Translation: how to deal with what life throws at you.
Saturday I accepted an invitation from someone I had been corresponding with to attend a local authors book signing. We, the author who invited me, sat in a coffee shop and talked a bit. Her eyes were piercing blue, without resignation, with an inquisitive smile. She had to go to the book signing. I has to finish my chia. i went out to my car to get my computer. I sat in the coffee shop for another 30 minutes, drinking tea and reading and responding to email. Hey! gotta keep up!
After reassuring myself the world was ok, I shut down the computer, drained my drink, and went across the street to my car. I drove to the bookstore where the event was taking place. The parking lot was full so I rolled through and pulled up along the curb on the street. I think it was snowing. On my way up the hill form the river, I saw one ugly roll over accident. It was a Dodge SUV type vehicle, black, rolled twice, maybe one more. The driver's side was crumpled, the roof touching the hood. All the glass was out of the vehicle. I knew it had rolled more than once. I counted eight state patrol cars. A fatality, thought, lots of cops. I haven't checked the news yet to see what happened. I think I already know.
I got out of the car, slammed the door, fumbled with the keys in a familiar ritual in trying to figure out which pocket to put them in. Doesn't matter. Whichever pocket, you won't be able to find them. I went into the bookstore, the manager came up to me and asked if he could help me find anything. As I do in most retail situations when presented with this polite request, I gauge their ability to understand understated humor, and ask them if they are a psychiatrist. Always a smile. Every time. No fail. Try it. It's great relief to those in retail who ask the same question every day, a million times a day. Helps break the monotony. I like to make them really laugh. Not the polite, "Yes , sir, that sure is funny" kind of laugh but the yeah, you get it laugh. I've been there. Maybe you have too.
I began my walk through the authors straight ahead. A guy named Aaron was sitting on the other side of the table I was standing in front of. He had envious long hair, thick, Native American looking only it wasn't black. He talked freely as I picked up his book and flipped through it, looking for keywords, I guess. Something about boobs and a shower caught my eye and I read a couple of paragraphs and knew I had to read this book Even if I had to buy it. Which I did. I caught his energy and started bantering with him. He had written his book in prison. That's how he spent his time. And now he has a book. Very cool. My first thought was how do I get this guy to my school to talk about writing? I asked him for his card. He smiled and looked a tad bewildered. "Card? Card? Am I supposed to have a card?" We both laughed at the irony. I gave him my card and asked him if he would come talk to young writers at an alternative high school. He launched into proclamations of what he would tell those kids. I felt it and I thought, or think, it would be a good learning experience for the aspiring writers in the student body. This guy is real. They would love him. The inspirational speaker thing gets pretty old pretty fast. This guy seems raw. His material is raw.
I picked up his book, had him sign it, and moved to the left in front of a beautiful woman who was approaching her nineties. She had written a book for children and her son had illustrated it. It was very contemporary with its hard bound cover.
I made it to the author who had invited me. I picked up her first book, which won the Willa Cather Fiction Prize, and looked at the table of contents. Some of the stories I recognized. I had already read them online. The title and subtile of her second book grabbed me and said, "This one, too!" I picked that one up, too. I was offered a chair so I sat and chatted with the few people, mostly the authors, around me. At the end of it, the author and I said goodbye as I was paying for the books. I picked up some clay tools, also. I get in my car and head through town. I'm almost out of town when I get a text asking me to come and get something to eat with her. I swung around and met her at an Asian cafe. She said the hot and sour soup was good. It had been a long time since I had that soup and I salivated. The soup came and we ate and we talked. It was good talking. It was good listening. Don't let me forget to tell you about how shitty the roads were. As soon as I passed Rock Island, the fog and snow set in. It was not a cold snow but wet and slushy, the kind of slush that will grab your tires and try to take control. Slow and easy, the only way to go, but not too slow, please. Winter is here, according to the highways.
I rolled in to East Wenatchee about 9PM. I picked up my Airbook and checked my email. I saw an email from someone I had not heard from in too long. I am glad for the connection. That is the last I will write of it.
Sunday was our staff party. As usual, it started out family friendly and rapidly submerged into a loud tequila fueled shout fest. I think I even had a good shout or two. I was one of the last to leave. I walked outside. My vehicle was parked across the street. Humongous flakes of snow were floating through the dark sky. I walked right in between them. I put the car in magic glide and made it home, sound and safe, too. Quite content, thank you. LISTEN: Braided Hair
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