What a weird night’s sleep.

I was so awake in my dreams that I feel asleep in my awake.  So if I go back to sleep will I be more alert in my slumber?  My head feels sort of dreamlike right now.  Morpheus beckons me.  All I want to do is drift away.

Yet the household around me is alert and peppy and peeping and bouncing.  Everyone around me feels ever so much more present than I can possibly be in this moment.  I feel like I am in an automatic bingo ball selector cage.  Wheeling and whirling around.  I feel dizzy in my awakeness.  Whoa.  Da room is spinning, man.  Bitchin’.

Sunday.  The day of rest…  in my house, no.  But wherever that might be I want to go there.  Beam me up, Scotty!

bingo · dreamlike · morpheus · slumber · sunday day of rest

Today started, but never really did anything else.

I guess we all need days like that that just hover in suspended animation.

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So Zill and I went to some charity event, but being a kid, she could not deal with the continual speaking of speakers.  The only speaker she is interested in listening to is her self.  And her self speaks lots.  And her self needed an outlet for her lots of speaking.

So we snuck out of the hall and into the foyer.  There we found other people who could not deal with the continual speaking of speakers.  Only they were adults.  So we hung out with this group of malcontents and proceeded to continually speak amongst our selves.  Somewhat loudly I guess, because we were chastised by someone who was able to deal with the continual speaking of speakers.

That always happens to me.  For some reason I tend to join the group of “bad kids in the back of the classroom” throwing spitballs and drawing cartoons of the teachers.  Much more interesting are they to me than the kids who sit up front with their hands politely folded.

So one of them said, in a whisper so we wouldn’t get scolded again, “Can’t you hypnotize them to stop speaking and fall asleep at the podium so they can get to the raffle already?  I want to win that flat panel TV!”

I said I couldn’t from another room, but I could hypnotize everybody in the foyer to act like disruptive chickens if they wanted to break up the show with cacophonous squawks and energetic scratching and strutting.  Nobody wanted to be poultryfied, so I left them intact.  And split the coop.

Zill and I went to check out the hotel’s gift shop and to feed ravenously from the concierge’s candy plate.  And then we hopped in the car searching for some coffee shop action.  We finally settled on one 15 miles away.  There we partied with a bunch of chess playing, caffeine-chugging codgers.

One guy had this amazing nose the size of a lemon.  You just wanted to grab that thing and honk it.  It looked very musical.  But Zill and I contained ourselves and resisted the temptation.  Because when life hands you noses, you can’t always make lemonade.  In cold season you might get a hand grenade.  Eww.

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Did you ever have a day where you did all kinds of stuff and was everywhere in the world at once, but nothing actually got accomplished? That was today for me. Here it is 4:14 p.m. on 2/26/10, and I feel exhausted for doing everything in the world but nothing actually got done.

Please excuse me for leaving, because I have several thousand more things to do in the next five hours! Hopefully to accomplish even less. Go me!

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So, after 17 and a half years of marriage, I have come to this conclusion. In order to be successfully united in matrimony, the only thing of importance is food, at least in a man’s perspective. Here is a typical conversation in my household:

HIM: Whaddaya wanna eat for dinner tonight?
HER: I dunno. What do you want?
HIM: I dunno.
HER: Okay. How about food?
HIM: Okay. What kind of food?
HER: Food that tastes good.
HIM: Hmmm. Food that tastes good….
HER: Yeah. It’s gotta taste good or I’m not eating.
HIM: We have all kinds of stuff in the freezer.
HER: I can defrost something.
HIM: Everything in there. Hard as rocks.
HER: Well, something that defrosts quick. Like ice cubes… or, um fish?
HIM: No ice cubes. I had them for lunch. How about fish.
HER: Salmon?
HIM: Okay. What kind of veggies?
HER: I can sauté up some nice beet greens, baby bok choy and escarole…
HIM: WHAT?!!
HER: Just kidding. Broccoli
HIM: That gives me gas.
HER: Everything gives you gas. You could fuel the planet with your natural gas.
HIM: Thank you.
HER: That would be a great idea for a new biz. Very green. You said you
wanted to get out of aerospace, right?
HIM: Do we have to talk about that now? I’m hungry! What veggies?
HER: How about non-gassy green beans.
HIM: Fine. With butter. No hot sauce this time. You fried my mouth last week.

(36 Minutes Later.)

HIM: That looks edible. (Eats and watches hockey game.)

(22 Minutes Later.)

HIM: That wasn’t bad, huh.
HER: Yeah. Not bad.

(For the next hour he flips the stations so he can simultaneously watch three hockey games, a couple of basketball games, the Olympics and Man vs. Food, while I do laundry and turn the garage into a heat shack. As soon as it’s dark, he heads into his cave and retires for the night.)

(Next Day.)

HIM: Whaddaya wanna eat for dinner tonight?

So that is pretty much the extent of what we talk about. He is reasonably happy. But every once in a while I’d like to sauté up some nice beet greens, baby bok choy and escarole. With a little garlic, lemon juice and grated sea salt…

Wedded bliss. Life is a fairytale.

baby bok choy · wedded bliss

I set a destination and began the march.  But every step seemed to take me in a direction other than where I intended to go.  The attempt to leap over huge hurdles to make up time only landed me in piles of raw sewage.

Stinky stuff.  Good thing I had my drum with me.

So I pulled back, scratched my back with the drumstick, and thought.  Bashed my head through the drum and thought some more.  Used the drum rim for a hula.  (I think best when I dance.)

I decided to take it slowly.  The soldiers were weary.  No more marching.  Time to bring in the heavy artillery.  Major assistance was needed.  It was time to creep like an old lady in a walker.  So I tossed out my PF Flyers and donned my sensible shoes and support hose.

One step.  Wait.  Arrive at foreign place.  Two step.  Wait.  Arrive on alien planet.  Three step.  Wait.  Wake up in Kansas.  Four step.  Wait.  Play a game of bingo…

Yeah.  I guess January is the wrong month to start a march.  The destination has changed so many times my coupons have expired.  I’m just going to dye my hair blue now.  I’ll see you at the early bird special…

blue hair

My theme this week was charity, forgiveness, and compassion. all brought to you by the Number Four and the color Blue. Sprinkle a little Sesame Street on my Mr. Noodles and I’m good.

My task was to pass out cash. I broke a ten-dollar bill into ten ones. I was planning to give one dollar out to each panhandler that requested help.

Usually there is no problem finding someone with a “Please HELP! I’m Homeless,” sign. But for some reason this week I only found two in the first six days. Pretty shocked I was considering the “state of the economy.” Hey! That must be a sign that things are improving, n’est-ce pas?

So on the seventh day, I was becoming desperate. I did not achieve what I set out to do. It was like a term paper deadline looming me in the face. I did what any rationally thinking, desperate person would do. I went out hunting for cadgers. I drove around for at least an hour and finally found one.

The sky was growing dark. And I was about to get rolled up in the Orange County sidewalks, so I had to resort to giving out my bills to various charities of bell ringers and unmanned donation boxes: homeless pets, Haiti, Make a Wish Foundation, Salvation Army, and my daughter.

I tried to give money to two guys sitting at a bus stop, but they wouldn’t take it, so the last three dollars, I begged the Boys and Girls Club to take.

Fortunately, Miss Dani took my leftover cash to buy Popsicles for the kids. I can’t believe I had to beg someone to take my money. And all for ice pops. A sucker is born every day, I guess. Sweet.

blue · boys and girls club · cadger · charity · forgiveness · four · panhandler

Somehow, I ended my day of work earlier than I expected. Because I’m the boss, I got time off…for non-working behavior. It’s not that I didn’t want to work, but I was pooped. Pooped I was, because of an experiment I’m conducting. I want to rediscover my dreams before they drift off to the netherworld.

The experiment: dream catching. My alarm goes off at 4:00 AM.

Yeah.

4:00 AM.

And then I’m supposed to wake up and write down my dreams. At that hour, though, I am oblivious to life. I can’t remember my name, let alone my dreams. What I’d really like to catch is a couple of more zzzzz’s. Or take a zzzzz-iesta.

After two days of this nonsense, I needed a chillaxing afternoon, and though it was an overcast February afternoon, I headed to the beach. Silly me, while I sat in the car, I called a friend first, who kept me on the line for 45 minutes talking about non-chill subjects. Fortunately, a guest arrived at her door, so I silenced the blackberry and tromped across PCH, nearly getting run over by a speeding BMW and stampeded by a herd of chantingly jogging Marines.

Do I know how to chillax or what?

I sat and watched the waves, people clobbering around volleyballs, some guy bashing driftwood into the sand for a solo game of Frisbee golf, and a dog dying to go surfing or play Frisbee golf.

The sound of the pounding surf just crashed the poopedness out of my mind. I was one with the beach-trash peeking out of the sand. Yo Milky Way Wrapper, how’s it goin’? I will pick you up and deposit you in a trash receptacle posthaste. The seagulls squawked, and with them too, I was one. See me in my rat-with-wingedness glory. Don’t throw that Milky Way wrapper away. Eat it! Yeah. Right. That and a sand witch.

And as I absorbed this oneness-with-the-one into my being, all I could think was, “Dog Beach in HB Rules!” Throw me the Frisbee, man! *BONK*!!!!!

Catching ain’t my bag. J

beach · chillax · dream catching · Frisbee golf · rats with wings · sand witch

Happy Valentines Day to all. Be in love with yourself. And with everyone else. Love heals all wounds. And makes tons of money for Hallmark.

An added side effect, love is great for your skin and amazing for your metabolism. Not only does love make you feel all giddy, it also speeds up your metabolism. So… forget your New Years Resolution to lose weight. All you have to do if you wanna lose weight, go on the love diet. Fall in love today.

<3 y’all

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So I thought I was escaping a box. THE box. Out of that box I wanted so bad, that I didn’t realize I was only hopping into yet another box. A parallel box. A box that was oh so similar, yet somewhat different than the original box. I was bamboozled!

A box is a box is a box. All of them square. All confining.

This new box has stale cereal in it and a dubious prize. I was hoping to get the decoder ring. Instead I got the Frosetta Stone. Frozen hieroglyphs. Any Freegyptologists out there?

decoder ring · freedom · stale cereal