Blooood moon. Blooood moon.
Realizing that 7:30 was almost upon us, we abandoned our chili on the table to cool and piled into the car. It took us a few minutes to find a place untreed enough to see the horizon. Martin pointed out the windshield. "Look, there's the moon," he said. We squinted at a cloudy blob in the sky. Over the next 15 minutes, we yelled at the kids, who were shoving each other around in the back seat, and then, after Bea (Martin followed) was expelled, hollered out the cracked door to where she was hopping across the white bars of the crosswalk in her bare feet, "Stay out of the road!" Truly, we should have all piled out and huddled in the cold, making memories, but I am a wimp and like to be warm.
Still, despite our less than ideal family dynamics, the blood moon was pretty spectacular, even with the glow of the street lamps. We watched the red moon rise over the pine trees and then we headed home to find that Charley, who had been left loose in the house, had polished off our chili. It was smeared all over the floor among broken bits of bowl. So it was a memorable evening for all concerned.
Martin's folks in Houston went out to a city park to await the blood moon. On the phone last night, they compared the experience to Charley Brown and the Great Pumpkin, since the blood moon apparently had better places to be, other dates to keep, or was running embarrassingly late. They shared the park with a family who was sitting quietly in a circle, dogs in tow, waiting solemnly (Martin's parents guessed), for the end of the world. So it was a disappointing night for all concerned.
But really, how would you feel if you were convinced the world was going to end under the blood moon? What would you do? Shrug, get up, go home and turn on the TV? Pay those bills you'd thrown in the recycling bin? Better luck next time?
Realizing that 7:30 was almost upon us, we abandoned our chili on the table to cool and piled into the car. It took us a few minutes to find a place untreed enough to see the horizon. Martin pointed out the windshield. "Look, there's the moon," he said. We squinted at a cloudy blob in the sky. Over the next 15 minutes, we yelled at the kids, who were shoving each other around in the back seat, and then, after Bea (Martin followed) was expelled, hollered out the cracked door to where she was hopping across the white bars of the crosswalk in her bare feet, "Stay out of the road!" Truly, we should have all piled out and huddled in the cold, making memories, but I am a wimp and like to be warm.
Still, despite our less than ideal family dynamics, the blood moon was pretty spectacular, even with the glow of the street lamps. We watched the red moon rise over the pine trees and then we headed home to find that Charley, who had been left loose in the house, had polished off our chili. It was smeared all over the floor among broken bits of bowl. So it was a memorable evening for all concerned.
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| Perhaps training such as this has backfired. Dogs should not sit at table. |
But really, how would you feel if you were convinced the world was going to end under the blood moon? What would you do? Shrug, get up, go home and turn on the TV? Pay those bills you'd thrown in the recycling bin? Better luck next time?
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