Some Days

Some days just hum along minding their own business and making very little difference to my general outlook and attitude. Other days I feel like a human yo-yo and need to make plus and minus columns just to get a vague understanding of what karma is throwing at me. Today was one of those days.

It started off well enough. I did a short morning wake-up yoga class followed by a rather pleasant meditation where I joyfully hit the zen zone a couple of times. Nice.

Then I discovered a message from a friend saying let’s have lunch tomorrow. The thing is, Messenger tells you what time the message came in but not what day, so I thought it arrived at 7:11 last evening when in fact it had arrived at 7:11 this morning while I was still dancing with the dream fairies. So I thought tomorrow was today but it turned out that today is today and tomorrow is tomorrow. When I arrived in Shibuya there was, of course, nobody there. Well, no. That’s not quite right. There were gazillions of people there, but none of them were waiting for me.

I felt a bit foolish, but decided to make the best of it. I’d been hungry for pizza for a while and there isn’t any good pizza in my neighborhood. Both Pizza Hut and Dominoes have deteriorated so badly that I’d rather eat the box. The Japanese pizza places are almost as bad but in a different way; they put things like corn and potato and curry sauce on their pizza. I’m pretty sure that’s illegal in many parts of the world.

So there is a place in Shibuya, kind of a long walk in the wrong direction, but it has nearly authentic New York pizza sold with attitude by the slice and they even have pink lemonade. I indulged and, feeling better, I made the long trek back to Shibuya to go to a specialty shop I’d been meaning to visit. Of course, they’re closed on Wednesdays.

Big sigh.

I’d also been wanting to look for some orange essential oil. Unfortunately, I dread shopping even more than going to the dentist. But I decided to suck it up and forced myself into some twee shops selling scented soaps and body gels and myriad other goops and glops that I would never use in a thousand years even if the Easter Bunny left free samples on my doorstep. In fact, I found lots of orange oil but the prices were staggering. Literally. With one shop lady hovering over my shoulder, I looked at a price tag and nearly fell over.

Not wanting to know what further shocks the Goddess might have in mind for me, I bought some ponytail holders, tucked my tail between my legs and scurried for home.

As a thank you gift for my costume work, the cast of Big River gave me a charming sketch of Huck and Jim.

Huck and Jim

For some reason, the sketch really speaks to me. I feel like some days I am a little white boy with a sassy attitude; other days I am a big black man with a heart of gold. Metaphorically, of course. Some days I am up; other days I am down. Some days I am up and down. Some days. Other days. Days flowing together as the Big River that is my life.


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