Dream Life

From some writing craft book: "No one wants to read your character's dreams." 

I wonder. 

I woke up this morning exhausted, not quite knowing where or when I was.

A horse is led into a strange, country-style living room. Big red fellow, sturdy and calm, but watchful. I can tell he will not suffer a fool. No saddle and only a rope halter. 

I am expected to ride this animal on some kind of journey and I look around the room for a chair to stand on. He's as still as a rock wall as I mount efficiently and seat myself forward over his front legs and not in the middle of his back because the thought of doing that makes my own back hurt. 

There is no saddle or blanket and I can feel his living heat right through my jeans. He is wide and my hips already hurt. 

Then the person who led the horse in handed a plate of hot food up to me. The horse shifts from foot to foot and he sways from side to side just enough to make my stomach turn over. 

On the plate, a small slab of meat and a pile of fettuccini all of it swimming in a sauce redolent of red wine. "Horsemeat," she said, cheerily. Big Red heaved a deep sigh and I pass the plate back down to her. 

This is what I get for following the Mongol Derby. 

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I'm hoping to have a dyefest in the next few days, but I really need the tent set back up. 

I wait patiently for that help. Cloth and thread are ready. 

I need to think about color for a bit.

This never gets old.

That's Rocky peeking out. Dennis taking his ease. 

A huge limb from the water oak on the island fell across the yard yesterday. You can see it's shadow in the foreground of this picture from a few days back.

I don't know whether it fell on its own or the cable guys knocked it down on purpose. It's clearly very dead and there are more up there like it.. It missed my car by a few feet. 

Debby didn't do Atlanta

 At all. 

Yesterday was sketchy with cloud patches wandering aimlessly. Every time I thought about suiting up the sky got punchy. Five minutes later, blaring sunshine. 

I gave up the notion of swimming and took care of some errands. Drove a wide loop that took me from the post office to the library along with a herd of the yellow peril. I'd forgotten about school buses oozing into regular traffic like so much molasses. Oh well. 

The Algo must have sensed my need for good music. I love it when a great segue makes me say, "damn smooth." Finished the circuit with some iced coffee and glazed chocolate donut hearts.

The cold dwindles finally after some experimentation with herbal and OTC meds. It probably would have resolved without them, but I slept good.

All that in preparation for some good reading followed by a whole morning of word whipping and finally, pool time. My gills were drying out.

Hot and sunny, Debby skipped us altogether. 

Low tide, but turning

 

Since Friday morning I have been entertaining a world-class head cold, no other symptoms, thank you. For me it's the kind of thing that requires stillness. I have been sitting in the stitching chair looking out at the Island Jungle or in the darkened bedroom watching the Olympic surfers in Tahiti with the sound off. 

I let the Island go totally wild this year. Just off camera to the right, there are 10-foot-high pokeberry trees and some other unknown shrubby stuff taking advantage of the runoff from the neighbor's slightly elevated yard. None of the flower seeds I scattered in the spring stood a chance.

Colin stepped outside for a smoke and our resident doe spooked away right in front of him but she stood snorting and pawing in the driveway because she had hidden her fawn(s?) out there. The cats don't even venture in there anymore. 

It teems with butterflies and birds and lots of things unseen. Snakes, of course. Cocoons and larval stages of everything. Come late Fall, I will make some hard decisions about paying for professional help before shrubs become trees. I imagine it drives my Mango maniac-supporting neighbor across the street crazy. Wait until she sees the HARRIS sign I'm going to put out there.

The waters off Tahiti sport my favorite range of cool blues. I understand the need for the safety of the surfers - the waters at the break are shallow and the coral reefs are punishingly sharp. And it is French Polynesia. But if you have ever felt the power of the ocean lift and carry you while you balance on a slab of wood and plastic, these waves look tame compared to the majesty of the surf around the Hawaiian Islands. 

To be clear, the only time I ever surfed was in the freezing waters off Race Point, Cape Cod MA on a rented long board and not enough sense to wear a wetsuit. I will always remember that lift and launch.

Last year, I was captivated by the Eddie Aikau Invitational and the fairytale story of the winner, Luke Sheperdson who took a lunch break from his life-saving job to nab the wave that made him the winner. And then, he went back to his day job. 

Today I'm going to try to get in the pool for a bit before the cloud cover from Debby takes hold. I had planned a dyefest for this week, but I don't have the energy. There's still plenty of August left. 

In all this quiet, there has been a running conversation between a precocious girl child and a spectral Barbary ape.

Form and function

I wasn't going to wear this as is, but a lag in doing my laundry called for it. In hand, it didn't have much promise. Then I slipped it over my head.

"Heavenly" might be misconstrued. The funny thing is, if I lived alone I'd still be sleeping naked as I did most of my life. Since Jim passed, I've gotten used to having a little something between me and the sheets. The favorites have about run their course of usefulness. Now this. Soft, airy, just roomy enough without any excess. 

Now I have a template, a perfect fit for me, and the search is on for one or two more of these elegant, simple tablecloths. I'll measure it tomorrow, including the foot and a half that I lopped off. That piece will become the facing on a robe I'm working on. 

This is the only seam. I overlapped the two edges and left a few inches open mostly because those hemmed edges fell open like flower petals. Just enough. 

I stared long and hard at the array of fancy stitches the Janome had to offer. Test drove a few and settled on this one for its clean functionality. Of course, I had no white thread so I went with the pale blue rayon which won't be obtrusive if it refuses the dye. You never know. 

I cut off one edge, doubled, for the shoulder straps. Left them wide and comfortable. Pinned them into place before committing to the spacing, front and back.

I'm still going to dye it. 

Me, all pleased with myself just before a summer cold fell on me like a starving hyena.

Home from away

 

The days swung between stultifying and glorious. Giddy and melancholy. 

We ate crap and watched every damn episode of Futurama. Loitered in the library and discovered that Hardee's is the bomb. Politics and the Olympics spiced each day.

Do you remember being over summer vacation and unwilling to admit that you were looking forward to going back to school?

I have been reminded. 

The birthday party was a huge success. The house and grounds buzzed with youngsters like so many dizzy hornets.

This was the best day. We paddled around and he narrated a sci-fi screenplay on the fly. Zombies and all. 

Minute by minute I was reminded of my purpose, much more than in loco parentis. I have magic to share every moment I can spare. All else is dust.

I have a lingering case of ennui that I hope to solve tomorrow by cleaning MY neglected pool. The cats have forgiven me.