Last night I seriously slept, unassisted by even a flake of pharmaceutical. And I dreamed in two distinct installments. In one I crouched behind a rock and witnessed a mountain lion skulking around; in the other, I was adjusting the umbrella of an elderly lady in a café in Italy, filling her water glass, reassuring her that I would be right back. It’s almost too easy to read meaning into these, but I woke up refreshed and absurdly proud of myself for having achieved sleep. I guess my bar is set pretty low these days.
I asked my husband if he had plans for today. His reply: “I’m going out between 9:30 and 10:30 to catch the little wave that happens when the tide is high.” Apparently this particular little wave occurs in a specific spot, and only when certain conditions exist. It’s an ethereal thing, he said. It sounded more like a poem than a plan.
I have a few plans myself, paltry rather than poetic, but I’m sticking to the sea-foam of this day rather than seeking depth. Speaking of foam, I have a yeast mixture bubbling in a bowl right now, proving its potential, and I’m going to make pizza dough, rendering the day one of accomplishment right there. Our young neighbors are coming over for dinner this evening…pizza, of course.
I think I’ll go out on my bicycle for a while too. I can see that it’s breezy outside, but not prohibitively so, and the act of pedaling somehow puts my brain in gear, and I come home with ideas. I have a friend who is participating in National Novel Writing Month…the goal is to complete a 50,000-word novel in thirty days, and there’s not much said about how good it has to be, but I suppose the act of completing a novel is a pretty major achievement in itself. As for me, I don’t think I can even get out thirty blog posts, and I’m not going to diminish my already shaky self-esteem any further by declaring arbitrary goals I will inevitably fail to meet. I guess I am not an ambitious sort of person.
But wow. It isn’t even 9 a.m., and I’m dressed and on my way. I’m calling this a wrap.