Sometimes the powers-that-be choose for you.

I played a gig last Saturday night here in Hopkinton at Bill’s Pizza. It’s been a few decades since I’ve played a restaurant. In the 80s I was in a few Top 40 bands and played clubs/restaurants/bars from Connecticut to Maine. It was lots of fun being there as well as preparing several cover tunes to bolster my collection of originals – which I would not have had the same concentrated time and energy to do if I hadn’t sliced my left middle finger open pitting an avocado.

I felt conflicted the day after Christmas, preparing to head up to ski at Waterville Valley with family. My responsible performer voice was murmuring I should stay home, research cover tunes and put together set lists. I was planning to take the keyboard up but I knew practice time would be a tad less productive up there amidst the hubbub, rather than down here, amidst the quiet.

So as I stood in my angst, holding said avocado in my left hand, while wedging a knife point into the pit to flick it out, the universe saw fit for me to slip and plunge the knife through the avocado into the base of my finger, separating the skin into two separate sides. I put the avocado down and looked on with curiosity as I flexed the finger and saw two sides of the cut separate. Chauffeured by my husband, three medical facilities later, I gained three stitches to my body mass, and an assured concentrated time and energy over the next three days to prepare for my gig, as the medical professional eyed me and chuckled when I asked if it would be okay to cross country ski.

Sometimes the powers-that-be choose for you.