The Moonlit Path

My alarm went off at eight-thirty this morning. And as much as I lazily wanted to stay in bed and sleep for a little longer, Robbie insisted that we got up and get the morning started with a warm fire, some fresh coffee and perhaps some bacon for breakfast. Convinced that it would probably be best, I crawled out of my tent in a sluggish daze and dragged myself across the road to use the the bathroom. I brought with me a tube of ointment my doctor had prescribed to retain moisture in my chronically dry eyes. After clearing out the goop that had crusted in the corners, I jutted my head upward toward my reflection. As I peered into the mirror, I noticed that an over-sized lime-green moth had set itself atop the left side of my head. I jumped back, startled, but after a few seconds I started to laugh at myself hysterically because after taking a second glance, it had appeared that I was wearing a huge fluorescent-green butterfly bow. I must have been laughing for a little over a minute. It was so funny that I had to pose for a second to mock myself—”Heyyyyy!”—before swatting the little bugger into the air. That had to have been a Kodak moment.
 
**************************************************************

We took a drive to various gift shops along Highway 101—Confusion Hill, One Log House, The Grandfather Tree, etc.—each place having the same souvenirs and wood carvings as the one before it. We also stopped by a place called The Ripley’s Believe It or Not Tree House. It is said to have been sold to some old lady, and whether or not she is still around is hard to say. Every year, for the last three years, we’ve visited this place and it has always been closed. And from the look of things, the place is in disrepair and seemingly abandoned. Though I am sure that the place probably even sold the same trinkets and useless knickknacks as the other stores do, it seems like it could have been a great tourist stop—even if to just look around and take pictures. Such a waste.

The chill from earlier today, lingering from the night before, had finally burned off by mid afternoon. With the temperature on a steady rise, breathing in the hot air had begun to become difficult—especially since my nasal passages had been narrowed by a stuffiness that seemed to have been un-phased by the allergy medication that I had taken this morning. Usually highly irritated in this state, I am quite proud of myself for being able to tolerate such misery.

We later drove into town to check and see if Ray’s had fresh salmon available for tonight’s dinner. The first day we went, they had one steak available, but it was partially grey—old, rotting and probably inedible. Before heading into the market, we decided to check out the local shops along the short stretch of the main road. Vivien bought a knife at a sporting goods store and a patch to repair a small hole she had found in her air mattress. We stopped by a store called Eagle’s Perch Fine Drums and Crafts on our way back to the market. The place smelled of incense and was filled with intricately detailed hand drums, spiritual crystals, stone carved figurines and other hand-crafted items. Within a cluster of different objects displayed under a glass counter, my eyes were drawn toward one specific item. It was the perfect thank you gift for Joe—a crystal skull carved out of green fluorite. I’ve known Joe to collect items that are visually occult, and I know for sure that he would very much appreciate this particular piece.

Ahh, relief. I was getting a little worried that I would come back home empty handed. I am certain Joe wouldn’t have cared, but I figure for something as important as making sure Suki is taken care of during the week, it would be nice to receive something physical as a gesture of thanks. And to complete this already perfect day, we were able to purchase fresh salmon from Ray’s.