Gone fishing

Sunday, the apartment

"Hi-yaaaaaaa!"

And with that, Josie came charging into my place, with a spear in her hands.

I neatly deflected her treacherous charge and glanced outside the apartment door. "Where are the kids, and what in the world are you doing attacking me with a spear?" I asked.

She grinned, even though I could still see her sad eyes. It's been a tough week-end for her. "They're coming. And I don't know, I guess I was feeling tribal today."

I grabbed at the pole. (Wait, that sounds vaguely pornographic...take two...)

I took her "spear" out of her hands, to examine it. "This looks like a fishing pole," I said. But a crude one. Basically, it was a long stick, with a piece of twine stapled to the top. A paper clip had been poked into the distal end of the twine.

"Very good!" said Josie. "The kids made them. They thought you might want to hunt for some trout in your pond." My apartment has a beautiful view of a pond that's surrounded by the complex, and it's true, people have been known to fish in it from time to time. However, I'm not sure that the kids poles were up to the task of hunting for trout.

I heard the sound of a cattle stampede, and knew that the kids were on their way. Ashley made it up first, her face flushed from the run, but also excited. "We're going to go fishing, Dad!" she said. "What can we use as bait?"

Outdoor sportsman that I am, I grabbed some Oscar Meyer bologna from the fridge and started ripping slices into little bits.

I have to admit, the paper clips made it quite easy to hold the bologna in place. But for some reason, the kids didn't catch any fish, although it was awfully nice, wasting away the afternoon like a summer day, and casting aside, momentarily, the unusually smooth autumn chill that has crept into most of our New England mornings and evenings.

Later that day went we went to an old country store, and spent an hour or so hunting for candy.




Although this entry is sounding downright rustic, I hardly live in the country. However, it has been really nice, as I type this entry, to have my windows open, and let in a bit of cold air, and to hear the geese honking, skimming across the pond. To me, the noise sounds lonely and romantic, as it echoes in the distance, evoking a feeling similar to the one I get when I hear the dogs howling and trains moving forward at the end of Pet Sounds .

Everything things coated in magic in the early morning hours. The cat, bounding across the room, after making threatening tiger noises. The sounds Ashley makes as she gets ready for school. And ducks, flying across the sky in a perfect V formation.

OMG! A Sighting!

So I decide to head to Target. It's only open for another fifteen minutes, so I want to get there, get what I need, and get out.

As I'm walking down one of the main aisles, toward the sock section (I so needed black socks--all of mine have holes in them!), I see this woman walking towards me. She looks strangely familiar, but I'm all busy thinking of socks, so I don't think anything of it, so single minded am I in my quest for foot covering.

Suddenly, I hear my name, although the voice turns it into a question.

I turn to her, puzzled. "Lauren," she says quickly, pointing to herself.

"Hi" I say slowly, trying to make the connection. It's a weird situation. Should I just pretend as though I know who it is, and breeze through the encounter? She looks SO familiar, I just can't place my finger on it...hmmm, should I face things head on and admit I'm having trouble?

Finally, I decide to confess, and say, "I'm trying to think where..."

"Oh!" She realizes the issue. "Livejournal. ohhjuliet.

Wow! Ohhjuliet! It dawns on me. I know this person. I know this person well enough that she knows some of the most intimate details of my life, and I know the same of hers. And she's so pretty, too!

Hugging ensues.

Lau, I know that I'm being silly by writing this as "the other side" of your journal entry, but it really was fantastic to finally meet you...and I meant it about your ghost story, btw. I swear, I think we should form a writer's group, just so we can egg each other on with our writing...