Holiday Shopping

Bustling department stores are always a trying place before Christmas and I usually do my best to avoid them. However, I was in desperate need of a black skirt and decided to head to the trenches and shop downtown. I milled around the store for a bit, pleased by the shiny decorations and cheerful staff. My fellow browsers were polite and unhurried. As I entered the dressing room, my arm sagging from the weight of seven skirt possibilities, I realized all rooms were full except for one marked “out of order.” Turning back, I stood by the entry to wait and was soon joined by another customer.

A clerk approached us, apologizing for the line. Both of us were content with waiting and told her not worry, it was not a problem. The clerk resisted our pleas and insisted on investigating the dressing room situation. She came back quickly and told us there was one available, the room marked “out of order.”

I asked her what was wrong with it, expecting her to tell us the lock was busted. Instead she answers “oh, somebody peed in it, and they won’t let us bring the steamer up during store hours.”

I told the clerk I would be happy to wait till another room was available.

Polka Dots and Moonbeams

Last night, North America was the place to be. Well, technically it was earlier this morning. At 2:41 am EST the moon began to slip into a full lunar eclipse, made extremely rare by the fact it fell on the same day as the winter solstice. While my occult friends celebrated privately, my plain old lunatic buddies and I headed to the National Cathedral for some hard core moon gazing. While not exactly the best place to view the night sky, due to the 24/7 wash of light aglow on the grounds, my gal pals and I were certainly not alone. As we parked in our moon roofed Volkswagen, not a single moment passed before we were approached by two telescope wielding men who immediately began chatting us up. Feeling obliged to fill the silence made by their questions and my suddenly mute friends, I answered that no, we did not want to find a darker spot with them. I smiled and nodded as Chatty Man continued, telling us that “light is the enemy of the astronomer.” They finally walked away when they realized we were staying put.

For the next 20 minutes, we drank hot coco and enjoyed the show, mesmerized by the bright white that slowly turned to orange. We wandered into the Bishop’s Garden, which was darker and provided a haven from the below freezing winds, as well as a better place to bay at the moon. The sky was even more brilliant from the garden, but as we slowly became popsicles, we decided to head back to the car until the total eclipse occurred at 3:16 am. As we traversed the winding, icy path back up to the Cathedral, we came across some kissing couples, groups of friends, and a woman lighting dozens of votive candles in a flimsy shelter. Though it did not appear that any sacrifice was taking place, we scurried up the hill quickly and made it to the car….only to find the same two guys (Chatty Man and Silent Robot) set up directly in front of the car. As we piled in, knowing how awkward it would be once we fired the engine a mere five feet from them, they put their hands to their faces, blinded by our headlights, and began crying about how all of the light was messing with their set up. We drove about 40 feet away and waited in a shadow cast by the Cathedral for the magic moment of the total eclipse to arrive.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the window, causing one of my friends to scream and one of my other friends to pee her pants just a bit (ok, that was me). It was Chatty Man, motioning us to roll down our window. We did and he began to tell us how cold he was, which made me totally afraid that he was going to ask to sit in the car. At which point I would have locked the car and told the driver to hoof it. But he did not ask to sit in the car. He asked us to come to breakfast with him and his buddy. Stifling giggles, I politely declined on behalf of the group. Though he cajoled for some time, I told him we wanted to stay for the whole eclipse. He seemed to understand, told us where he would be if we wanted to meet up, and walked away. Just as we were about to roll up the windows, Silent Robot stood in front of the car, pointed at us and voiced in a flat tone “you should really come with us.” He then ran into the darkness, vanishing along with his friend.

Love expresses itself in odd ways, and though sadly we had no moon music mixed tape for the occasion, the only thing I can say is that it truly was not just a total lunar eclipse, but a ...

We later drove by the Diner, where they would be and considered briefly accepting their invitation, but alas the mood had passed. Perhaps in another 372 years.