It's been a rather random week thus far--at least that how it's feeling in my head. I spent most of yesterday in a bad mood for what I assumed was no reason, until I realized the night previous I'd had multiple dreams about things going wrong, objects breaking, food burning and people being jerks. Yes, they were all dreams - none of that happened in real life - but it left me dealing with emotional fallout. The bad mood persisted until I had an unreasonable amount of tasty pizza with a glass of red wine, followed by tea and double-chocolate biscotti. (Notice the entire lack of anything even remotely healthy.) That did the trick.
Other random bits:
- On Monday I saw a squirrel that could only be described as "stocky": it had a compact, powerful body, no neck, and a marginally over-sized head. At first I wondered if it was born malformed in some way, but then I realized no, it was simply the squirrel equivalent of a football player physique. In fact, I'm sure he has a tiny helmet and a jersey back in his tree crevice, and will be going to toss around the acorn with the other adolescent squirrels sometime this afternoon.
- Also on Monday I had a lovely long walk and a conversation with my Mom, where she was telling me about a tour or houses she'd attended with my aunt over the weekend. I compared it to an architecture and interior-decorating fair-thingy that we used to go to when I was younger, and her response was: "Exactly, sort of, not really, a little bit, similar, kind of, yes." It was all one sentence, and yet each part was emphasized as though it were the final response. But the best part was that she had zero awareness that she'd uttered anything extraordinary until I burst into hysterical laughter.
- This morning while on my way to and from the grocery store I observed a bumble bee in a narrow, fluted, lilac-colored flower of some kind, the only blossom left on that particular plant. As I passed, the bee wasn't moving, and I thought it may have passed on to that Field of Wildflowers in the Sky. On my way back from the grocery store, however, I saw the same bumble bee in the same flower, now stirring. It gave a little wiggle, clearing rousing itself from a night's slumber. And I was struck with the delicious faerie-fancy of how marvelous it must be to sleep for a night in the snug, fragrant shelter of a flower. Sort of the bumble bee equivalent of camping under the stars, with a blossom for a sleeping bag.
And now that I write this, I'm struck with a contented sense of gratitude that I have an imagination capable of spinning such lovely thoughts! I think I will reward myself with some leftover pizza for lunch.
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