I got postcards from Mom and LeisureLee today, and Leisure Lee asked if there were any Indian casinos in Massachusetts. Nope. Notta one. It looks like there is a constant hope of building one, but it's been in the works and rather hopeless for years. That's OK with me. There are two in Connecticut, though: Mashantucket and Uncasville. I love the names out here. It never occurred to me that there would be no Santa or San Somethings because that's a California thing.I'm not crazy about the Indian casinos. My dad used to be in charge of filling the new casinos with games (or at least I think that's what he did; his employment was always something of a mystery and a bit shady). It always seemed like things never turned out as well, financially, for the tribe as they did for the non-tribal investors. Plus, people were always shooting at each other by the time Dad moved on to the next casino.
Speaking of my dad, I've been thinking about what that tarot card reader told me, and I think she was predicting my past instead of my future. I guess that's not a prediction, is it? More of a psychic re-telling.
Just before I went to see her, Buckaroo and I were wandering around a scary junk store in Gardner, and I stumbled (really, physically) on piles and piles of vinyl 45s. I was suddenly six years old again and in my dad's work. Back then his job was fixing juke boxes, pinball machines, video games, and the place where he worked had a distinct smell: bars and machines and sweat. There were gutted games everywhere and so many vinyl records. I loved to go through them and try to find songs I knew. I never did, though. It was always bad country music.
I had to resist the temptation to go through the records in the junk store. I don't even own a record player, but I wanted them because I felt close to him, like he was working around the corner. I was starting to blubber, and Buckaroo was squirming, so we blinkingly stepped back out into the bright light of the sidewalk festival, and that's where we saw Doula Mom and family. She led the way to the tarot cards.
So, it was with that energy surrounding me that Roseanne read my cards, and the reading that she gave me (see below) fit perfectly into my past: Three years ago I wasn't speaking to my dad, but we did eventually work through it, and then I got preggie, and my dad was so excited and called me all the time to talk about it. Plus, the major crossroads: Whether or not we moved to New England. There you have it.
Ah, it's all a lot of rubbish anyway, right?
Now, you're probably wondering about the above photo? Buckaroo and I had dinner (turns out Buckaroo is a fan of zucchini, yay!), ice cream, and a walk with our FMF today, and we passed wild concord grape vines. It looked more like a tree, really, and at first I didn't realize they were grapes because they're so big, but they're not translucent at all. They looked solid like green marbles. I was told that they get bigger and purpler in the fall. Our FMF didn't see what the big deal was.
Also, the blackberries out here are tiny dots, but I don't have a photo of those.
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