Sunday, January 1, 2017

Yesterday, at the library-where we had a good bit of fun(or I did anyway)-a woman approached the desk and asked us where she could find the cemetery that had the angels. 

Something I am trying not to do is making eye contact with my immediate co-worker and give any indication of anything other than a normal day in paradise because really, who am I to judge? But I think we sent her upstairs to youtube for some reason-or maybe that's where she was headed and we just got out of her way. 

I know not. 

Way later-and after this guy came in picking up the motherlode of assorted New Year's self-help books for his girlfriend-one of which was entitled: How Not To Die and I said, ya better read that one first and we're all-all of a sudden-filled with merriment and the angel lady is leaving and I catch her and I say: So? Did you find them?


And she says, Nahhhh. There were videos of angels at the gravesite but they don't look real.


Hmm, thinks I. How. Do. You. Know?



See the face?


I received an assignment in the form of a heavy, filled-up, re-used Amazon box-which was most delightful because where I live currently is the home of a dedicated recycler. I do my best but I am no match for P. 

There was a cheerful card with instructions and even when I saw the card I was already all-in because this assignment came from one of my favorite humans on the planet. I have many. I am lucky. 



On the card were instructions regarding a family tradition of what to do after experiencing a particularly rough year. (This year wasn't last year but it had it's challenges, didn't it?) You were to take the enclosed items to a large body of water. We decided on the Des Plaines River because it runs the length of Illinois, then into the Mississippi and eventually the Gulf of Mexico and it wasn't too far from home. 


It's a beautiful sunny day but it was also deceivingly cold. 


We walked and walked until we got to the water. What you don't know, is the other night, Grantley the wonder dog-not having relinquished her superhero powers of flying up three flights of steps in a single bound, crashed into the bottom stairs. Hard. 

I guess she never got the memo regarding the aging process which is a quality she has that I will always admire. She is not going gently into that good night. No way. No how. 

But we have a glimping(grimacing and limping) dog in our midst and the general stressors of a changing political landscape from two different unsatisfied perspectives and the Bears are losing like they always do(so why do we have to keep watching?) and all this other nonsense going on and this that and the other thing happening or not happening and long story short? This had already been a very difficult day.

We got to the water.  


The grapes are left from last night, throwing a flower into the water is a New Year's tradition is somebody's country and then you have two (Hamptons Dahling) sea shells 
and the finest salt. 


From across the water we heard a noise.  I don't know if you can see it, but we seem to have woken up a deer. 


Then we heard a wood pecker. 


Then we saw the ducks.


The idea here, is that the salt represents the tears that you've shed in the past year and by flinging the salt-filled shell into the water, you release the negative energy back where it came from. 

Then you make a wish for the New Year. 


(Apropos of nothing, in 2017, I'm going to try and accept that I have gigantic hair. )


Back to the ocean she goes. 






We were then instructed to take our sorry asses for some fine brunch dining 
which we did and it was delicious. 



It was actually perfectly perfect. 


And P even remembered to bring some home for Grantley.


The end. 




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