You Wouldn't Be the First to Drown Here

Small wedge-shaped park on the Big River now called Rockford Beach, where I had a secret spot for fishing, has a short run of rapids, and despite all the warning signs they have now, people keep drowning in it. Today although I saw no people in the grass the parking lot was full. It so happened that a whole line of like 25 men waist-deep on river's opposite shore were rescue-service workers being trained.

There's barely any "beach," and the wardens say not to eat fish out of the Big, but on hot days families wade there, splash around, and swim across although it's forbidden, aiming to climb the rocks into that eye-socket hollow in the photo -- that's private land -- and they get caught in the current. When I moved here (19 years ago, as of tomorrow) just above the rapids was the remnants of a grain mill. After the floods of '08 -- and the Big River is the first to flood and close the roads here -- the park land was gated and locked for years, I thought forever.

But one day it opened, with all traces of the mill erased. A sandbar "island" in the middle that had attracted too much attention has been replaced by riprap. But it still has, like, the smallest and mildest-looking rip-snorting rapids, for professionals to practice with.

Goofin' Off at the Pharmacy

To build muscle, people my age need more protein, so driving home from the hair place I became roast-beef-sandwich-minded. But first, like most people my age, I stopped at the drive-up pharmacy, where I'm well-known. Charming pharm tech "Tonia" came to the window and microphone. Feeling goofy I said, "I want a roast beef sandwich. . ." and we laughed and she said, "So do I, bring me one, with fries," and we laughed some more.

On the day my hair is cut and styled I am very cute, so I chose this day and hour and really cute earrings to pick up my prescription because I'm flirting with the male pharm tech. As you know, proving your identity at the drug counter requires reciting your birth date. (When waiting in line, I am fascinated by everybody's birthday.) It happened that on one visit, after I told my birth date, the good-looking male tech said, "You're Aquarius? So am I," and we began talking zodiac signs & comets. We banter whenever he waits on me. Last week at the window he asked what I thought about the latest solar flare, adding that he plays trivia online at a local place, and I am thinking: He's cute and he's sweet on me.

Yes, I know that only batty old ladies think the pharmacist is a hot number.

Today he angled Tonia out of the window and said without preamble, "It wasn't our sun that belched, it was Beetlejuice." I was momentarily confused -- I didn't recall having a son with him, but anything is possible. Then he said, "Beetlejuice, the star. Last week I said the sun, and wanted to correct it." He meant Betelgeuse, in the constellation Orion. Recently astronomers saw a very unusual flare erupting from that star. By now I'm like jelly with silliness.

I said Betelgeuse is not in the zodiac so it doesn't affect us.

Tonia, with my bag of goodies, bumped my boyfriend away from the window. It was Aquarius hilarious. She wanted a signature and a form of payment, etc. and I tried not to laugh. As I took my crisp white paper bag she asked -- it's required -- "Do you have any questions for the pharmacist?"

Cracking myself up, I said, "Why was I born?"