I was on the MAX on St. Patrick’s day downtown. It was standing room only and as I was crammed next to a friendly woman, she said to me, “I love your necklace. Is it a real four leaf clover?”
“I dunno, but it’s green. I didn’t think random strangers would pinch me – but then I thought, Crap, I’m in Portland again – so I better not risk it.”
“That was good thinking, cuz I was looking you over to see if you were pinchable.”
All I could think of was, THANK GOD I WORE GREEN!!!!
D and I were shopping for baby items for our soon to arrive nephew. Being that I’m a grumpy old lady, and believe I only like kids when I can hand them right back to their parents, I thought shopping for my nephew would be a chore. But it turned out, that as I wandered up and down the aisles I was grabbing things and oohing and ahhing with the cuteness.
D came around the corner when I picked up a tiny pair of shoes and let out a strange sound I didn’t recognize as my own. Sort of a garbled moaning wail of adoration for the itty bitty baby shoes.
“Oh my god,” She said. “What the hell was that noise?”
“I dunno. But I just felt my uterus give a funny little flutter.”
“Put the shoes down. Step away from the shoes.”
She grabbed my elbow and hurried me out of the store.
“Please god,” I begged all the way home. “Don’t let that be a sign that my clock is starting.”
One night at St. Mary’s gig I arrived to discover that Friar Thomas had left his Mandolin at the last gig and they’d just sent someone across town to retrieve it.
Friar Thomas: Oh there’s Athena. We could have sent her to get it.
St. Mary: Maybe you’re forgetting that the Athena we know has trouble with the correct names of things – you’d have sent her across town for a Mandolin, and she’d have come back with Mandarin Oranges.
Me: Actually, for some reason, I was picturing a Ukulele.
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