The Tide is High

Saturday, the 24th, was a day full of surprises.
In the morning, my mother and I hosted a garage sale in my front yard, something that I don't do. I'm not against garage sales, but I do feel as though I'm poking through a strangers' underwear drawer at their behest. My husband loves garages sales, and so does my mom so on that stormy and cool morning my cast off undies, so to speak, were on proud display in my front yard. Tulsans are quite vociferous in their appetite for these sales; I've never seen a town so in love with them. It's as though an ebb of used baby toys, paperbacks, lamps, prom dresses, marbles and other once loved items slides back and forth across the town, and the same objects are sold again and again. These sales also transports the buyer and the seller to the ancient marketplaces. There are no ticket prices. Each item is assessed on the spot according to the appearance of the potential buyer and the game begins. Thank god this is a novelty form of purchase; most people are better at it than me.

That afternoon, after we loaded what we didn't sell into the pickup and deposited it at Goodwill, my mom and I drew ourselves long across the couches and watched a tornado on TV. As the elder son was with his father, and the younger was taking his nap, we were free to watch whatever we pleased, and after surfing for a moment we came to a rest on CNN of all things. They were broadcasting live a tornado that was sweeping across Oklahoma less than one hundred miles away from me. I wasn't concerned that the storm was going to reach us. The storm was too black and swollen to cover the distance between us. What it did instead was put on quite a show for half an hour. Up and down went funnels of all shapes and sizes, touching down prairie mostly save one pig farm. There were no fatalities, human or hog.

In the evening my mother took the boys out for a night on the town, and my husband and I took our garage sale monies and did the same. Our diner was a dismal failure, a textbook case of bad management, Cisco goods, and bad seating. We were buoyed by the fact that, if our food arrived in time, we were going to see the new Indiana Jones movie and related our memories of the series over an empty table. In record speed we ate and drank and paid for all of it, had a quick smoke, and made it in time for the film. I don't think I'm spoiling anything for anyone by stating that the film is a disappointment from beginning to end. I am still reeling from the mediocrity of it. My question: if a bridge is supposed to carry you from one side to the other, and the other side looks, acts, and seems predestined to bore, why cross it at all?

At the end of the episode we were completely sober. Leaving the theater we went directly to our dive and commenced to rectify the problem. While doing so, a flock of girls flew in, one after another, in their 80's inspired mall finery. After much noise and booze out they flew again, and so did we. It was the end to a strangely electric day. Maybe it was atmospheric, or maybe it was the act of doing something completely out of character, but I feel as though I've taken a small step forward somehow. And that is exceptional.