City lights and other man-made trappings look downright gaudy in the presence of a gigantic yellow moon. From the vantage point of wilderness, a night sky is an awesome, even sacred sight to see. From my front porch, a newly rising, fat, orange moon is a certain reminder of who's really in charge.
Post-sleep consciousness whispered to me that today is one of those exciting, holiday-like Saturdays where excitement presses on the edges of time. Not only is all the housework done (yes, even the bathrooms sparkle!), but the first carpet of crunchy golden and red leaves now resides in the compost pile. A squishy November haircut tidied up the green lawn. The leftover Halloween candy is bagged up and frozen (where were all the kids this year?!). Dog clean. Laundry done. Bills paid, patio swept, and we 'got milk.'
All this realized before I knuckled the sleep from my eyes.
An important football game is being played down the road, at Autzen Stadium. We'll watch it on TV, me in my Angry-Eyes Duck Hat, my Quacking Duck Beak hanging from its lanyard around my neck. Decked in green and yellow - or red for the Arizona Sun Devils - bicycles, cars, SUV 's, RV's and pedestrians flow towards the stadium, flags and pompoms secured to rigs or hats or children's strollers. Eager faces painted in school-loyal colors. Tailgating crowds huddle next to ignited charcoal, blowing into fists, warming hands against the early morning fog, anticipation pulsing. Polish dogs, hamburgers, whiskey-sauced chicken, yes, but the Big Event which all these activities precede, that begins at three-forty-five with kick-off.
By this evening fans will be tuckered out, half euphoric, half droopy. Which will I be?
Time will tell...
But I'm getting ahead of myself. With no usual Saturday chores to complete, I am free to make a huge pot of chili and a 9x13 of cornbread. Leisurely the girls watch Saturday morning TV shows, no foot-tapping parents hovering with The List. Choices. So many choices. I shall walk the dog. I shall drive past the stadium and cheer on the tailgaters. I shall buzz over to Winco and pick up a few 6-packs of Henry's root beer to go with the chili and cornbread. I will take that bubbly spa that has been calling me ever since I shoveled wet dirt a week ago. I will open my Kierkegaard book and lose myself.
And I will get off this computer and not return today.