Cold this morning and clear as fifty million bells and I am happy.
The leaves of the Bradford pears are turning red and gold from the tops down, the backyard becoming carpeted with rustley, rusty color and Maurice and I slept so well although the dreams...oh. The dreams.
Always the house and so many people there and it got to the point of absurdity in my dream this morning and I realized that it was so crazy it had to be a dream and that I needed to wake myself up but although I am lucid enough in that dream world to know I'm dreaming, I still don't know how to wake myself up and so I continue on with it, trying to get these people out of my house (who ARE these people?) so that I can clean it all up, take it all back for myself and meanwhile, I needed to take Kathleen some medicine, I was frantic to take her some medicine and when I woke up, finally, I realized that what I want to do today is make her soup and bread which is not medicine but which is good.
And I have this entire day to do with what I will. This beautiful day and it feels like such a good gift and Maurice is in and is out and following me around and leaving me alone. Here she is in the mudroom jungle.
I just talked to my husband and he is safely in Canada where it's "fricking cold" and that's according to a Canadian so you know it's true. I told him to have fun but that the only thing I required of him was to be safe and I'm sure he will be and I've had my breakfast and now am going to start cooking chicken with garlic and celery and I started a library book last night which grabbed me so, right away, that I read almost a hundred pages of it in one cozy gulp before I made myself turn off the light and settled down with that fool cat and as I count my blessings this morning, that book is one of the bright jewels on the chain along with this sun, this animal, this great good sense of well-being, this golden day given entirely to me.
Happy Friday, y'all.