Observations
I'm sitting in Java Beach Café. I really want to work on my latest idea—the chapter I'm on is all steamy and I can't wait to write it—but I'm being a good girl and working on my blog first. Like usual, I have no idea what I want to post this week. I'm NOT writing about New Year's resolutions, but if I were, I'd say that this year I'm resolving to make a schedule of blog topics ahead of time so I don't have this last minute dreading panic about it.
So as I sit here, starting to panic about coming up with yet another interesting-yet-random blog post, I notice things.
The counter where I sit is sticky and has a faintly vinegary scent. Tucked in the corner, I'm removed from the general bustle of café. The occasional regular stops by to greet me with a quick, non-invasive hello.
The boy next to me is named Hunter. He looks sweetly sleepy, like he rolled out of bed, grabbed his ancient Mac with its hot pink case, and stumbled into Java Beach for coffee.
The young woman next to him is nursing her hangover with a mimosa.
My Java Beach posse is gathered at The Table, like always. The day they aren't at The Table I'll know the apocalypse is nigh.
My sister drinks her chai (sweetened) across the room, on a couch, where she reads because she doesn't work on Mondays.
That man stares at me. His dark eyes aren't subtle.
One of the regulars asks me if I wouldn't rather be in a warm place to do my writing, and then he offers me his apartment in Mexico, north of Puerto Vallarta, because he likes to help artists. But I know it's also because I'm adorable, modestly speaking.
My thoughts bounce. The chapter, the week, my sister, men, painting, Katie. And then the cycle begins over again.
Stuart walks in, bright red jacket and equally bright smile. He tells me I should be out in the middle of everything where people can enjoy me instead of hidden in a corner.
The woman waiting to order her beverage wears glasses, and she has another pair perched on her head. Does she know?
Where are you? What do you see? What do you smell, and what are you thinking?
Signs
Have you noticed how the universe will give you signs when you need to change certain things in your life? And have you noticed that if you don't listen, the universe will smack you upside the head until you do what you're supposed to?
For example, a friend of mine realized it was time for her to move out of her condo, but she kept putting it off. A couple months later, she found a dead bird on her balcony. Then, a few weeks after that, there was another dead bird, this time in front of her front door, on the porch. Did she move? No. So then the top of the tree next to her home broke and crashed through her ceiling. She got the message—she moved a couple weeks later.
I got smacked today as I walked home from the café, where I'd spent several hours working on my revisions. <— That's in case my editor drops by. I don't want her to think I'm slacking.
However, before I get into that, let me tell you about last week, when my friend Dawn (of pet psychic fame) dragged me to a psychic fair so we could get our auras photographed.
After our auras were photographed* and we waited for the results, Dawn introduced me to one of the vendors—a man who sells jewelry coated in essential oils that promote compassion, health, joy, etc.
He took one look at me and said, "We've met before."
I shook my head. "Nope."
"Let me see your hands." Before I could comply, he seized them and looked at my palms. "That's what I thought."
Dawn and I exchanged puzzled glances. Then I asked, "What did you think?"
Only he was staring at me so intently he didn't hear the question. I stood there and observed him, partly amused, partly perplexed, and partly wondering at the strange feeling that I knew him too.
Suddenly he exclaimed, "You need to explore your feminine side. Buy lace."
Dawn gasped. "Yesterday I made her try on a bunch of frilly stuff and she wouldn't go for any of it."
He nodded sagely, his gaze never leaving mine. "Next time buy the lace. And you need to stop kicking men to the curb. You're going to miss the right one if you keep this up." Then he dropped my hands and pulled out two bracelets from a pile hidden behind some boxes. "This one is coated for balance, in work and hormones. This one is coated for love." He arched his brows sternly. "Put them on and don't take them off."
"Yes, sir." I saluted and slipped the bracelets on my wrist.
But then I didn't listen to him. (Sigh.) Which is why the universe stepped in and smacked me today.
This morning, I ran into Peter as I left Java Beach, the café where I go to write. Peter is a bright, shiny neighborhood guy—everyone knows and loves him. He was hit by a car years ago, and it left him disabled—mentally as well as physically—but he's the most cheerful, positive, loving person you'll ever meet.
So Peter lumbered up to me as I crossed the street, an untypical frown lining his forehead. He pointed at my chest and, in his slurry deep voice, said, "Open your heart."
I blinked, stunned. I touched my bracelets, remembering what Dawn's friend said to me. Then I nodded and replied, "Okay," because what else was there to say? I know a sign when I get slapped with one.
Some things are easier said than done though. (Sigh again.)
* In case you wondered: my aura is purple topped with gold, and around my face it's all white. Purple was creativity, perfectly balanced by gold wisdom. The white was apparently guardian angels. I'm surrounded by them. I suspect a couple of them are jokesters too.