The first night of vacation I came home from work to a garage party equipped with coolers of ice cold beer, grilled food and good company. Lounging on a beach chair, drinking amongst the crew, was the legend himself, Mr. Twang. After making my rounds I saddled up next to him excited to finally see him in person, an event that happens twice a year. Conversations with Mr. Twang are like ping-pong matches where bullsh*t is passed back and forth. As a Warrior Princess, sh*t talking can be one of my favorite pastimes. Or conversations are like story time at the library where Mr. Twang tells of his latest life happenings. I grew up listening to these stories- they are always well crafted, over-embellished, undoubtedly he stars as the hero and the truth is mixed in with a large pile of manure. In short, I adore listening to the tales he spins regardless of their merit.
After a couple of beers, Mr. Twang told me of an odd encounter he had a couple weeks back. “Some freaky sh*t”, he said as he leaned back in his chair and scratched his chin. “I just got home from working the late shift, like 2 in the morning. Hadn’t slept much that week cause I was picking up extra shifts. Sat on the couch, flipped on the TV…just relaxing. Next thing I know this comes on.” He passes me his I Phone with wide eyes. On it I see an image of Mr. Rogers. I look over at him quizzically. He moves up and down his eyebrows in anticipation, “Press Play.” He says.
I did and saw this: The Garden of your Mind. (click to play)
A Warrior Princess