Into summer

Terrible, terrible me, I really took this summer thing seriously and went to the beach (in my head) and sorta stayed there. So much for blogging every day.

However, fun things have been happening.

Last weekend, my CPs (Critique Partners alias TWBs or True Writing Buddies) and I took an awesome day-trip to a Psychic Fair. I know a few of you visit some other blogs who have written about this, so I'll try to find a different spin.

The Psychic Fair had Tarot and Majong readers, Astrologists, Numerologists, Psychics, and Aura photographers -- Side note please -- if you think getting a great candid snapshot is tough, try capturing some one's 'AURA' on film. Really, that whole what-hue-are-you? thing gets tricky. I'm sure there were several others in attendance as well, -- I forget, okay, it wasn't a memory fair. Bottom line is if you're looking to dabble in the psychic world, this was a great place to go. Me, I've never believed too much in the mystical hocus pocus so I dutifully double-parked my cynicism with the valet service and entered with a fairly open mind. I was secretly hoping to people watch. Come on, you gotta figure that there will be an odd eight ball or two at one of these conventions. Sorry, fellow people-watchers, there were just lots of normal folks hanging around.

It is pretty cool that you buy your ticket and step-in to sign up for a 'Reading'. I mean besides the library or a special event at the bookseller where you gonna find a 'Reading'.

I went to a Palmist (yes, that's a real word -- check it in Word Web if you don't believe me). This woman read my palm. Personally, I thought that made her a palm-reader, but apparently that makes her a licensed Palmist. At least I assume you need a license for touching and squishing around on some one's palm.

I've got to admit to an onset of nerves before my appointment time. You don't just walk in and take a seat. No, this is like scheduling an appointment to see your doctor or dentist, only you don't wait as long and they play better music than tired elevator trash. I had an hour to cool my heels and people watch (already mentioned that was a dud), so I simply tried to enmesh myself in the cosmic flow -- pick up vibes and that sort of stuff. I think my antenna was broken; I didn't even get a bad radio signal while I was waiting.

The time clicked away and then it was my turn. Wiping my sweaty palms on my blue jean skirt, -- who'd want to read sweat? Ick! -- I sat across from this incredibly innocuous creature. No fake French manicure, no high style hair-do, or swinging ear-hoops, dangling necklaces, nope, she could have been someone I pass in the Wal-Mart chasing down specials. Not a single thing on her screamed that she was drenched in psychic holy water.

However, she had nice warm hands, an awesome magnifying glass (gotta get me one of those) and a friendly smile.

Overall, did I learn anything new? Did she say anything that made me believe she could really tell something about me from the lines on my hands? Well, maybe.

My Fate line took a serious jar right as it encountered my Head line. What's that mean? According to my Palmist, at some point in my life I completely changed careers -- not one of the those refining exercises, nope, I jumped the track and caught a whole new train(career-speaking). Did she get that right? Yes, she did.

What else?

I have this funny little cross, almost in the middle of my palm. It's not formed by any of the major lines, but exists almost unto itself. According to my Palmist, I'm either in the medical industry {Nope, that would be wrong} or I would save someone at my own peril. As in someone who'd jump into flood waters to save a drowning person. Okay, without fire rescue equipment that would be pretty dumb, right? But I gotta tell, folks, without a doubt I have done dumber 'rescue' things in my life. I remember when that Washington plane went down in winter into the Potomac River. The passengers who survived the crash were freezing and drowning. Folks stood on the banks, ringing their hands and shouting at the rescue helicopters. Remember, that guy who shucked out of his coat and went into the water after that woman who'd lost her hook on the line? What he did made total sense to me. It wasn't a question of should, I just simply would have jumped in. Does everyone have this cross in the palm? No, they don't. Some folks come geared to be smart enough to wait on the bank for the rescue equipment, get blankets, warm up the people pulled to shore and help out a thousand other ways . . . but me, I'm a swimmer.

Anything else? Oh, yeah, my lifeline isn't very long. Maybe I looked a little panicked when she said that -- keeling over at her table from the shock to my heart would have been bad for business -- so she quickly reassured me that didn't 'exactly' mean I would die young. Swell, 'exactly' dying young might have been a little tough since I left young behind 10 years ago. Come on, did this gal think I was a spring chicken or something? Apparently low energy can also mean a short lifeline. However, I did get a little unnerved when she asked if I'd been sick recently. I definitely need to get my money back on this make-up brand. I mean if it looks like I'm recovering from an illness or headed to an early tombstone that should constitute for a refund, right?

Will this visit to the Palmist change my life's course? Alter my current attitudes and beliefs?

Well, I haven't rushed to change my will yet. It hasn't rained here in several weeks, so I'm pretty safe from flood waters, and as for my current career . . . I can't think of anything better than telling big ole' Texas tales and getting paid for it.

Drop my the porch anytime. I'll even show you my palm.
~Sandra