Last Saturday I went to the St. Paddy’s Day Parade. I went for two main reasons. I went to see my friends in the Krewe of Kazoo and I went to catch some beads. So, we find a great spot and the parade is jumping – music and floats, people yelling. It was just what I needed. Almost immediately after we got there my contact begin to bother me very badly. My eye was burning and stinging. I couldn’t even open it. So I had to take the contact out. In the process of trying to put it back in again the wind blew it out of my hand. I alerted my friend and we both dropped to the ground in search of it. Then my friend looks up and says, “Hey, isn’t that the Krewe of Kazoo going past?” I stood up just in time to make out the backs of my friends’ pink umbrellas. I stood there in a pair of plaid britches and a big old beer hat on my head. My cooler was beside me and my chair was still hanging from my arm. I felt like a fool, y’all. I’m sure I looked like one as well. I was so disappointed. I really wanted to see my friends. They are so supportive of me in my writing and acting and I go to their event and I missed them. DARN!
I got another contact the following Tuesday. I enjoyed the rest of the parade. The biggest thing is I saw was personal growth. Had this happened a few years ago I would’ve been an emotional mess. I guess I was still somewhat of mess this time with my nose to the ground rummaging through leaves with my plaid butt shining right there in the streets of downtown Jackson. Let’s just say, I was a more comical mess than I would’ve been a few years earlier.
Also, I noticed that I’ve learned that stuff happens and some times you just have to let go. I mean, people were walking all around. What kind of shape would the contact been in had it been found? Anyway, life goes on and if I would’ve continued on the search for a contact that had been stepped on by enthusiastic parade goers I would’ve missed the ladies with the large, fake, pink boobs.
Let’s talk again next week