Twenty Things

I’ve been getting a “disk is full” error on my laptop lately, so I’ve spent several hours sorting through and deleting old stuff… In the process, I came across this Facebook exercise from 2009 – “you are supposed to write a note with 20 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you.”

What, didn’t you know?  Blogging is really all about navel gazing.Bot navel orange

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>A dryad in another life?

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Leaving the parking lot at work last night, I noticed this Japanese magnolia in crazy full bloom.

My best friend is good at describing the spiritual connection she feels to the ocean. I feel that way about trees, grass and flowers. At the sight of these blooms I had an almost uncontrollable urge to jump out of the car and give the tree a big sloppy kiss. It’s ok – I didn’t .

>I say we fire that groundhog…

>Six more weeks of winter? Really? Not that I am in a position to complain, since it was 50 degrees here today (although we’re back to a high of 30 tomorrow.) Winter starts to get to me after a while – the total lack of color and life that is the northern winter is just devastating. Even the grass dies. When my best friend was here for Christmas she asked me, “Is it always this gray here in the winter?” And I had to say, well, yes, “Welcome to Exile.”

I must be homesick. It happens every once in a while, I’m going along just fine, and I suddenly miss humidity, ma’am, constantly running into people you know from high school, or grade school, or kindergarten. (Tangent – one of the hardest adjustments to Exile, besides the fact that everything dies in the winter, was realizing that I could go to work every day and see thousands of people on the subway, and on the streets, and not see a single familiar face.) Anyway, I’m coping by reading lots of books set in the south. Right now I am loving Charlaine Harris. She’s apparently really popular because the HBO series True Blood is based on some of her books. I’d never really heard of her, but I’ve been grazing on a selection of her stuff, and it’s really entertaining. Next thing I know, I’ll be watching Steele Magnolias and crying when Sally Field demands that Shelby drink her juice.

>Bus Ride

>The Mr. is working today and I have the day off. Glorious, luxurious day home alone! I had the pleasure of taking B to school this morning, on the bus. It was a good day to ride the bus, too – the ‘reserved’ seats in the front were occupied by middle aged ladies (rather than scowling teenagers) who scrambled to give us a seat.

B’s been singing lately – I guess you would call it that: he chants nonsense words to a tune of his own choosing. So he sang for our fellow passengers, and talked nonstop about the bus, and wheels, and asked “What’s that, mommy?” every thirty seconds. And all of this made me ridiculously happy, because I saw the ladies around us watching and smiling in approval, and probably remembering when their (now grown and gone) children were B’s age, and were happy and unaware of anything but the joy of an adventure. It was a reminder to me that the most mundane moments often engender the most wonder.