Small good omens

Written last night:

Dear Friends,

It was 9 p.m. when Zing and I walked our routine short night way. Our street is usually quiet in the evening, but tonight there were people of all ages walking in the other direction. So we turned and joined the crowd. One block down, one block over. By the time we got to the Wells Fargo building on Capitol Mall traffic was jammed and everyone was looking over toward the river and the yellow bridge. It wasn’t midnight, but fireworks sizzled in the sky. Somehow, they didn’t feel as aggressive as on July 4. The showers of sparks were lower and broader. There is no such thing as a gentle firework, but these were close. I sat down on the bench in front of the bank and held Zing in my lap as a garden of red splashed overhead. It felt like a good omen, a wink in the sky from Clark. We didn’t stay long — Zing isn’t one of those dogs who cowers at loud noises, but he doesn’t like them much either. 

Another good thing happened a little earlier. You know I like to have cinnamon rolls for Sunday breakfast to keep up our old tradition. But it looked like that wasn’t going to happen tomorrow — a bad New Year omen indeed, if you pay attention to such things. (I don’t … or maybe I do… ) I was late getting to Freeport Boulevard, home of the pink box bakery and a great doughnut shop. Both had open signs displayed, but they must have turned them to closed as I passed and parked. I gazed sadly inside, but the clerks just looked down at the floor and kept sweeping. No rolls for me! Luckily, after I picked Zing up at Grateful Dog we took a stroll through that neighborhood and passed a nothing-looking bakery that I’ve often ignored. But it was open and I was desperate, so I parked Zing back in Rosa and returned: not fancy, just rolls and cookies and a Cannoli sign. “Do you have cannoli?” I asked. “Sometimes,” the young woman behind the counter said. “ … whenever the owner feels like making them.” She laughed and started to describe the routine. “We close at 5:30. The owner comes in at about 7:30 and he bakes all night. Everything is baked from scratch right here. He’s had the shop for 20 years, and sometimes the man who had it before him returns and joins in the baking. I love this place!” I think I might too. Maybe someday I’ll even get a cannoli. 

Two small, good signs for the new year. May yours be full of small good things!

Love,

k