I went to the beach, got sprinkled upon and enjoyed it.
Get your mind out of the gutter. While your at it, drag mine out of there too.
It was raining Thursday morning and I got a little wet while hunting sharks teeth — hunting being the key word. I found two, tiny gems. Two. Did I mention that the rain was cold?
Yes, I had checked The Weather Channel prior to leaving my apartment for the beach. I saw the huge green blotch shadowing the coast. I was being an optimist for once. The blotch was light green, not dark green. I put my Jesus sneakers on and plodded to my second home. Flip-flop. Flip-flop.
On my way there, some jerk turned in front of me into an inconvenience market without using his turn signal. Right in front of me. If I had taken two more steps, the dolt would have hit me.
So much for “Joy to the World.” Kindness and the idea of sharing (the road) apparently disappeared about the same time the calendar page flipped. Makes me believe even less in the miracle birth.
“Honest, Joseph, I’m not sure how I got in this condition…No, I had never met the three wise men before they came bearing gifts. They were not here nine months ago when you were away in the manger. Yes, that really was an angel telling you that our son was conceived by the Holy Spirit…That was not me whispering in your ear. Now let’s split. Herod is on his way. Let’s go to Galilee in Nazareth. There’s a Walmart there and we need diapers…No, you fool, a loin cloth won’t do. Our son is Jesus, not Tarzan. We’re going out for once. Go warm up the camels.”
Warm up the camels? That sounds a little deviant, too.
Sorry, I got sidetracked. That’s a nasty side effect of being bipolar. It’s hard to concentrate. You know what is another nasty side effect of being bipolar? Getting the impulse to beat people to a pulp when they don’t have the decency to use their turn signals. Goosfraba.
So, as I was saying, I went to the beach and hunted sharks teeth. If it were easy to locate fossils, they would call my favorite hobby “finding sharks teeth” — not hunting them.
The tide flowed and covered the shell beds rather quickly. I paced, hoping to find a big tooth. No such luck. I still enjoyed myself. My flock (of seagulls) had congregated for service. They listen. I preach. No collection plate. Enough said.
Say, did I ever tell you the one about Bubbles on the beach? Remind me about that joke if you ever have the misfortune of meeting me.