Meteor Shower

I stayed up until four this morning just to see the meteor shower. Crazy? Yes, perhaps (Jasper certainly thought so - poor thing kept looking longingly towards my bedroom). However, I have always wanted to see one, and I always manage to miss them whenever I'm fortunate enough to hear about one in advance. So, with considerable help from Olivia de Havilland, Dick Powell, Rosalind Russell, and Robert Cummings ("old, dead movie stars that no one but Stephanie cares about," as my mother would eloquently explain were she here, although she'd be wrong about Olivia, who celebrated her ninety-third birthday this year), I managed to keep awake until the optimal viewing time. Poor Jasper could barely drag himself outside when the grand moment came, but I knew that he would cry if I left him inside.

I made two mistakes when I went out to watch the show the heavens had prepared for my benefit - I borrowed Dad's shoes (mine fit a little tight over slipper socks, and I didn't want to waste time getting different socks on), and I went out in a sweatshirt and no coat...in Michigan, in November. I did a bit of artistic stumbling on my way to the backyard, but eventually I triumphed over the hindrances of pitch darkness, my own klutziness, and Dad's enormous shoes (had I any ambition to become a professional clown, I probably could have filmed that segment and sent it into Ring Ling Brothers as an audition tape). Then I stood in the backyard and froze nearly to death, while gazing in silent awe at the luminous stars; and gasping with delight each time I spotted a meteor. Jasper amused himself by ignoring the resplendent display overhead and instead focusing on sniffing each individual blade of grass in the backyard.

In total, I saw six meteors for certain, but possibly saw more (it was hard to tell if several distant streaks of light were actually meteors or just my eyes doing odd things from staring too long at stars. I also had fun seeing how many constellations I could recall and find from my college astronomy class. After thoroughly chilling myself to the bone and doing a few more pratfalls, I went in to change into my own shoes and grab a coat and gloves. I only stayed out for another five minutes after that, as Mr. Sandman had tired of subtlety by this point and was now pelting me with his soporific sand. I fell asleep soon after hitting the pillow, my mind still lingering on the silent, mystic beauty I had been privileged to behold.