I love astronomy, gazing up at the night sky and imagining myself in other worlds. I love the morning sky as well. This morning as I took out the trash the sky was just beginning to lighten. I stopped and took it all in, the lavender hues, the first gleaming deep red rays of the coming sun against the velvet blue of the horizon. Cumulus and cirrus clouds splattered about as though a painter had shaken the white from his brush while cleaning it.

“Thank you, God,” I said. “I am humbled by your artistry.”  

This brings me to my first point. I was handed a hardcopy of an email last week touting a once-in-a-lifetime event that would take place this Sunday evening around midnight. Mars, it explained, will be as big as a full moon. It will appear as though earth has two moons. Thirty-four million miles will be all that separates us from the red planet at midnight.

How exciting to see an event that will not be seen again for 180 years. I am breathless at the thought. Don and I talk endlessly about seeing such a sight and where to set up the telescope for ultimate viewing. The anticipation rivals Christmas Eve at the Hopkins’ household.

Monday Dear Don deflated my balloon by telling me that the Mars thing is an Internet hoax, an urban myth or legend if you will. Well, that’s not very nice. I was so looking forward to checking out the Mars population to see what color they really are. Seeing two moons circling earth would have been a tremendous sight. Alas, it is not to be. Not now, not ever.

Which brings me to my second story. I had a root canal yesterday. I volunteered for this tortuous procedure although I was in no pain nor any immediate danger.

Why, you ask, would you do such a thing?

My dentist has been suggesting (arm-twisting) that I have this done because it simply needed to be done. I’m in no pain, I countered, so why subject myself to such a procedure when I clearly don’t have to?

Obviously, you have a relief valve as such in there to relieve the pressure buildup or you would have an awful ache, he said.

Okay, I digressed, I’ll do it. His training, education, experience an expertise carry little weight with me. I’m strictly a “what- feels-right-at-the-moment” kinda girl.

As they prepared me, the young assistant shot a stream of icy cold water in the general area of the offending tooth. I nearly came out of the dentist chair from the pain and I’d been on laughing gas for at least half an hour, it seemed.

Okay, so Mr. Dentist was right and I’m not, imagine that. However, as the minutes and hours ticked away I eventually fell asleep in the chair, a real testament to Mr. Dentist and his skill.

I’m a control freak, as I’ve mentioned before, and I don’t relinquish it to anybody without a fight. Good going, Mr. Dentist. Today I am not even sore from the six shots he gave me. Sorry, I forget you may be squeamish.

Which brings me to my last entry. Gabby my cat is now known in our parts as SC or scaredy cat. That dang cat is scared of everything including her own tail. She gets in position to pounce and then falls over asleep. She sits under the maple tree licking her chops as she watches the redbirds frolicking. When one dives at her in a menacing manner she takes off running, scared to the safety of the car rooftop. I watched a cricket jump at her yesterday and I thought she was going to have a heart attack.

Gabby clearly doesn’t know her place in this family. I would love to be a fly on the wall in the middle of the night when the armadillo is rooting up my nice front lawn. I bet she claws at the door mewing loudly for one of us to come and save her.

You get the picture?

(Contact Sherry at sherryhopkins@bellsouth.net)