Break A Leg

It is a blur, but I can make out the curvature of its face, the light, and dark of its body, how it swoops smoothly and lowly, and its massive and oblong shape. An owl, I realize. Dave and I see it amidst playing pretend with Evelyn using a stick for an oar and a round of wood for a boat. 

Aren’t they good luck, I also think? With the Mariners three down in the seventh inning post-season, I’ll take whatever sign I can. 

Am I superstitious? No way, that’s silly! But what if godly-directed thoughts can provide the needed tenth-man joo-joo boost?

It’s a tied-ball game and the bottom of the eighth. I didn’t plan on a significant head-on collision between the Blue Jay’s outfielders to get us there, but that’s how the ball bounced. 

In the oven are eighths of potatoes roasting in garlic sauce and parmesan cheese, and you can bet the house smells like a premier Italian restaurant. 

It’s also our first fire in the stove since last winter, and seeing the billows of smoke from the roof outside is pleasant. I resurrected a decaying bench embedded in the mud at the edge of the property and took a scrub brush to the moss on the rusting metal and wood slats. 

As you can see, I’m stalling. I may have been bad luck in earlier innings, so I’m sitting on a newly spray-painted bistro set waiting for Dave to yell updates at me from the upper deck. 

Everything rusts over here at the ocean; Metal doors, hinges, patio sets, nails, and screws. 

I forgot to put rice in the salt shaker last time we were here, so it took a good couple of whacks on the counter to dislodge the solidified ball to sprinkle on the potatoes.

Eek! I’m thinking of going back inside and checking on the game. Where’s my rabbit foot?

As I said, I’m not superstitious, but the game’s ended, and a 10-9 Mariners win is in the books. Up next in three days in the Astro. I better get to scouring the lawn for four-leaf clovers. 


Love, Jaclynn

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