No new post today. By a sheer coincidence that boggles the imagination, yesterday I was given two separate passels of fabulous books AND our new king-sized bed was delivered and set up.
That's right, good people of the internet, I said KING-SIZED BED. You might wonder why two small-to-average-sized grown-ups need such a huge bed in their tiny bedroom. What can I say? We're large in spirit.
At any rate... new books. A giant bed with gorgeous new bedding. What would you do if you were me? That's right. Go to bed with the books and don't come out till they're all read. Somebody get me my chamberpot.
Okay. You wore me down. Maybe I'll write a little bit more after all.
The word "coincidence" got me thinking of a true story that was told to me by another mom I run into in the 'hood from time to time. I don't want to say her real name, but she's named for a tree, which is germane to the story, so I'll call her "Laurel." Like many people I run into in British Columbia, Laurel is of second-generation hippie stock. She was born on one of BC's Gulf Islands, outdoors beneath a laurel tree, for which she was named.
Laurel told me that she has a stepbrother who is an antique book dealer. He regularly makes the rounds of junk shops and estate sales, looking to pick up rare and antique finds. He frequently finds odd objects tucked inside books, so when a letter fell out of a book he was leafing through, he wasn't surprised, but picked it up and read it. Imagine his shocked surprise when he found himself reading a letter from a then-teenaged hippie chick describing an amazing birth she'd just witnessed. You guessed it: Laurel's.
Is your mind blown? Mine sure is.
I tried to imagine how I'd feel upon being presented with such an artifact, but given the fact that I had a totally ordinary hospital birth and was given one of the most dirt-common names of 1970, I don't think I'd even recognize that such a letter was about me and not eight bajillion other baby girls. Thanks a LOT, mom.