A cookie would have been easier.

I just realized I left my last post with a declaration of eating tainted food and perhaps getting a view of big ol’ corral in the sky. And then I did not post for about a week.

So before you all start having a bidding war on who can get the multicolored pillows with the dongles and the fetching neon blue Converse, I thought I’d drop a line. I did not sadly [And I’m looking at you.] die from food poisoning, but instead my best friend came into the town and I resolved to do nothing beyond hanging out with her.

Projects for school? No. Emails? No. Blogging? No.

I have a couple stories from her trip here, but the most bizarre was a late night visit to a psychic to get our palms read. Her assertions were…well…let’s just say you get what you pay for.

We were waiting to go to a death metal concert [J’s band.] and had about an hour to kill. Sitting around my dining room table staring at one another, Sarah mentions we should go get our palms read.

“I know just the place!”

It’s a couple blocks down the street I live on and sometimes find myself passing it thinking that one day when I’m bored enough or the mood hits me I will go in and get my palm read. We drive over and hit the bell on the door and a girl that looks about seventeen, in a pink shirt and a long denim skirt, opens the door. Two hyper Chihuahuas yipping madly run to greet us and she chasing them into the back and closes the door to what looks like her kitchen.

Sarah asked if I could come with her into the adjacent room, but after being reminded that readings should be private Sarah goes first and I settle into the foyer. It looks like a tattoo parlor. Same crummy couch, same atmosphere of faux relaxation. The door to the room where Sarah and this girl sit is the consistency of cardboard and I hear lots of exclamations of “Oh!” and “Really!” and tentative questions. So much for privacy. Sarah comes back out and now it’s my turn.

We went into a room just slightly larger than my closet and I noticed this gaudily ornate altar with a mishmash of Jesus portraits, candles, stones, feathers, and mojo bags. We sat down at a small table and she asked me to lay my left hand on the table and to ask one question to myself and one out loud. I thought hard but all I can come up with on the inside is, ‘Well…I’ve got a case of the munchies…and…I’ve got nothing. How about the old staple of love? Yes, love. What about love?’

Out loud I blurted, “Where am I going in life?”

Her eyes popped a bit and she leaned back. At that point I’m glad I didn’t mumble a question about the meaning of life. She leaned back forward and her upper body shifted sideways down toward the table, peering into my palm

“I see you…” Her brow furrowed. “Will have a long life and with hard work you will get to the place you want to be.”

“Oh. Really.” Just like a fortune cookie.

In a serpentine manner, her upper body moved to angle herself above my palm. “I see that you’ll be living near water. That could mean a lake, a river, an ocean. A large body of water. That will be great happiness and openness for you.”

“I…Oh. Okay.” She obviously does not read my blog.

“You will have two children.” Just as I planned. Fantastic.

“Are you in a relationship?”

“That’s… er – complicated. Let’s see. There is a couple of things – ”

“I knew it! I see two men!”

Psychic humor. Great.

“Okay, well, one is from your past and that won’t go anywhere. The other, well, he’s going to open up to you in so many more ways. I see a long future there.”

Insightful. That’s a fifty-fifty chance there.

She sat up straight. “Do you have any questions?”

I looked at her and flex my fingers. “Ah…no.”