Everything is closer than it appears

For some reason, the city of Lincoln decided 25th Street needed to be swerving-room only. At least, that’s the way I see it.

On Thursday, I experienced some twist of fate having to scooch a skitch to the right on my drive to work as an oncoming car pushed me to the side of the street and got me in contact with another car’s mirror. According to the laws of physics, this Subaru’s mirror took two scratches, both about an inch long, and mine got blown to kingdom come. Such is life.

The lousy thing about it, though, is that I had just last Sunday driven my mom’s Montego to North Platte to meet her and my Fusion and bring my newly repaired car back to Lincoln. What did it have fixed? Oh, just a right side mirror.

So that mirror lived a glorious four-day life under my watch, then met its demise quickly and hopefully without too much pain. I’ve accepted it all with a grain of salt and have come to the conclusion that a couple mirror blowups were predestined in the plan set out for me in the beginning. It’s nothing to be upset about.

And that’s the idea I try to carry over into everything I do. It’s not that I want to live a passive life, knowing that it will all come to my doorstep on its own. No, I just tell myself that life will throw you a couple curve balls now and then. All you should do is throw that bat out there and try to connect. Having my mirror connect with another wasn’t exactly what I would have had in mind, but what’s done is done.

Now it’s a beautiful Saturday afternoon. I think I’ll go for a drive.

Published in: on February 7, 2009 at 9:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

Tempting Ian

How does a scraggleberry taste?

For nearly 300 years this question remained unanswered in the Chinese town of Tgiyeun. The children of the small hamlet started to wear the magenta, triangularly-shaped fruit around their necks on their fourth birthday.

Putting the fear of God into their sons and daughters just as their parents did to them, moms and pops would always convey the same doom and misery to the young-uns with the admonition, “Pow chung doo tah ceh,” meaning, “Your ears will fall off if you take even the smallest nibble. So don’t you even think about it!”

The kids would usually cower at the exclamation, as that horrific image was instilled in them forever.

The village of Tgiyeun was your typical rice-producing corner of the world. (When you think about it, China’s rice-producing corners of the world would make one hell of a geometric shape. But that’s another story.) Ian Schwood, a man whose reputation should precede himself, so I will go no further than his name in this description, was hip-deep in a paddy on a sultry day in September when all of a sudden he heard a sonorous crack.

Out of the sky sprouted a bottle with a message in it. When cartoon gravity gave way to real gravity, the bottle, though not directly above his head at take-off, sped in a blazing streak three-thousand feet to smack Ian right in the gut.

“Oueghchf! Unch, wheeze.”

When he came to, he discovered the message, out of the bottle and slowly bleeding together becoming damp from the paddy. He frantically tried to decipher what it read.

“-aggle be-y when eate- saves – li-es.”

As you may have guessed already, Ian was no ordinary Tgiyeunian. He was, in fact, on a deep and dark undercover mission for the greater good of Jamaica, and he knew five languages including impeccable English.

I am not at liberty to tell you what his mission was exactly, but this revelation that was hurled at him was precisely the information he was looking for. So he ripped the berries off his neck, shoved them in his mouth, and was puzzled by the aluminum taste.

He saved twenty-three calories.

Published in: on February 1, 2009 at 12:16 am  Leave a Comment