It’s a ‘Gray Day In May’ here in San Diego County, California. And May will morph into ‘June Gloom’. It happens every year and every year I say ‘Along with everyone else I will not get depressed this time.’
Each year thick fog rolls in from the ocean and covers spring. When the wet fog finally lifts and blows away…it will be summer and we will have entirely missed spring. I get very annoyed about this.
It’s true, Southern California has magnificent weather but we also have tornado-like winds, walls of raging red fire, and we have our earthquakes of course, and the uneasy sense of the possibility of the sea suddenly overtaking the land…. and we have fog.
Today, while closed into the house, my thoughts are like jitter bugs, bounding inside my head. I go up town to shop and get away from them.
In the parking lot at the grocery store, a woman calls out to me. It’s my art friend Judy from up the mountain. She’s just gotten out of her car and with her is a sick man, a dreadfully white faced, scrawny old guy with several ratty white whiskers and my god! It’s her husband!
I stumble toward Les and say, without any tact at all, “Oh, what has happened!!? What has happened?”
This is my friend Les, the handsome, dark-haired, retired detective with the exciting life and reformed bad-guy demeanor. Just recently, with a thumb to old age, he bought a huge motorcycle and accidently and immediately drove it up into a pear tree in his yard.
Now, he is barely standing before me, leaning hard on a cane, and he has a large drop of water dangling on the tip of his nose.
“Cancer,” he says as he thumps the left side of his chest. “I had my last day of chemo and radiation yesterday, and this is the first time I’ve really been out in months.”
I’m staring at him. I want to say, “Well. I believe they have almost killed you!”
I lean toward him and he says, “Will you hug me Venus?”
I give him a very hard squeeze. Les is dear to me. He and I have always had great affection for each other.
My heart feels like shattered egg shells.
As I get in my car and drive away, I realize that I am not only depressed by the fog but I am now annoyed at these malfunctions which are built into the human body. Whatever or whomever, designed bodies was either careless, or deliberate, in building in the slow and inevitable deterioration of all living things.
But, of course, according to the Beings who speak to me, it is all part of God’s plan, to have as many experiences as possible in as many ways as possible and in as many forms as possible. However, The Beings assured me, the rules aren’t necessarily the same in other places where God also exists. That being everywhere, of course.
I think I need to do something fun.
My sister Polly and her husband Dr. Ron, are going to Italy next week. They have been planning this trip for over a year and are intensely excited, yammering on about the great land of Italy.
Last night on the BBC news, I learned that Naples has had garbage piling up on all it’s streets for three months. The TV showed the mouldering piles, going layers deep, splayed into the roads with some of the filthy stuff on fire. We were told the famous city is a reeking, foul mess.
Won’t Polly and Dr. Ron be surprised when I tell them what awaits them in Naples?
Is this my idea of fun? This fog really needs to clear up.
But, here I go, off to spread the Garbage News and see what other trouble I can get myself into.
‘An idle mind (hemmed in by fog) is the devil’s plaything.’
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