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Yesterday morning I was writing about the angels in my life, which I may or may not publish, and here's what happened next.
Thanksgiving is upon us, so I began my preparatory rounds. First I pulled in a parking space at a local cafe thinking I'd run in and get a coffee for the road. There were a crowd of yuppies in the parking lot impeding me in a strange way. When I got out of the car, they told me that I had parked right in the walkway. Okay. .. so I pulled out, didn't find another space and left. Driving along toward my destination, the paper goods store, I was looking for a decent coffee place with parking. I passed two, no parking, (since listening to Abraham [www.Abraham-Hicks.com] I can practically manifest a parking space downtown on a Saturday night. (Something just came into consciousness - Often I use finding parking as guidance. No parking, don't go there.) Back to my story. Then I thought I should stop at this urban farmstand, remembering it was cute and might have some cranberry sauce
And there was my angel, right outside, sitting next to the big plaster hand holding the frog. (Two garden ornaments piled together to make room for oncoming Christmas trees). The significance of the frog in the hand is yet to be revealed. Stay tuned. A frog in the hand is worth two in the bush. Looks like a man's hand. Maybe if a man kisses a frog, it turns into a princess. Transformation. This is the second sculpture of a man's hand I have come upon lately. Although I didn't take a picture, one of my friend's sacred objects was a sculpture of Moshe Feldenkrais' hand.
Inside it was possible to order a fresh organic turkey, homemade tarts and pies, little Thanksgiving goodies for my elderly mother wiho spends most of her time in the Bardo (Ozawkie Book of the Dead by Elmer Green) and a very good cup of coffee to go. No crowds. Banter with the baker. They're even open Thursday morning in case I forgot the turnips.
I love it when this happens.