Daydream

Bunny says my homework this week is to daydream more.
About what I want out of life.

So I'm gonna daydream real hard, and print it out and turn it in. Maybe I'll get a gold star sticker. She really does give them to me sometimes.





I want to wake up to light coming in my windows. Maybe some music kicks in, and then the happy bubble-gurgle of the coffeemaker. I lay in bed, adjusting slowly to the idea of getting up. I might be alone, or next to someone I love. There's plenty of room in this daydream for love and kisses.

But there definatly isn't an alarm clock. I get up when my body is ready. It prolly is fairly early, but no slaving to a clock. No counting my rest in 9 minute increments, or my morning in countdown to the time I need to leave.

There is good light in the room. Good windows. Maybe what wakes me up, without me really realizing it, is my birds singing as they see the dawn. They do that.

I own a nice robe and slippers, and they never get kicked under the bed.
As I sit up, my big old dog Kate sits up a bit stiffly and shoves her nose against my leg. Each of us with only one eye open, we shuffle through the kitchen, where Kate sits down by the door. Dulces is purring and rubbing against the cabinet door, while Max feigns disinterest from one of the breakfast nook chairs. A can of cat food in the dish, a cup of coffee in my hand, and Kate follows me out onto the deck. She sniffs all the corners of the yard on her morning rounds while I settle into a chair. The view could be exotic or breathtaking or ordinary. It doesn't really matter, there is plenty of magic in the eye of THIS beholder. But there WILL be trees in my backyard. A back yard is useless without a tree big enough for a tree swing.

I open my other eye. Gradually.

Then it's time to think about breakfast.

I go through phases in what I want, but today I cut up some fresh fruit and make some turkey sausage.

Kate looks longingly at the sausage.
I give in.
And give her two.

Then I tug on some walking shoes and Kate and I head out on our morning walk. We briskly meander. And yes, it IS possible to meander briskly.

We pass the trashman and say hello. He asks if I wanna buy something for his daughter's school's fundraiser. I say yes, and when I find a catalog of wrapping paper thrust into my hands, I'm relived that it's something I'll actually enjoy.

I buy a newspaper and read the headlines to Kate. She shakes her head gravely.
We buy chicken broth and fresh tomatoes.

I see a woman with a brightly covered headscarf and wonder where she is going. I suspect she, in some form, will appear in my writing that day.

Arriving home, I remember that today is my day to clean the bathroom.
Later.

I pour another cup of coffee and check my messages. One from Denise. Someone brought her animal rescue a baby owl with an absess on its foot and it needs to be feed every few hours and she's swamped with her 8 year olds scout trip and both of the twins are sick with different things and could I PLEASE just take the owl because it's eyeing the hampster and she isn't particulary fond of the hampster but it's Danny's school science project and would I call her back about the owl?

I smile because it's silly for Denise to call from next door when she knows I'm going to say yes, and she's not going to wait and will prolly be over bef-

*doorbell rings*

Denise can't stay, but the owl can, in the aviary on the porch. She tells me her daughter insisted on naming her George, despite knowing that the owl is a she. I mentally tack on the last name Eliot and leave her to get acustomed to her temporary home without my scary presence.

I haul in the now empty trash cans.

I take a shower and let my hair air dry.

I get dressed and add "shower curtain rings" to the shopping list.

I make a cup of tea and head down the hall, sliding a bit in my socks on the wood floor. Somehow I know I won't write anything good if I don't giggle and slide down the hall.

My office has butterly yellow walls, a big window and lots of plants. Helix the parrot says, "Crackhead!" just as I taught him. Then he tells me I'm getting fat. I don't recall teaching him that.

I always take a deep breath as I open my rolltop desk. I don't know why.

From my desk chair I displace an indignat Maximus, who heads for the window sill.

For the next few hours I'm happily immersed in writing. A novel. A travel brochure, written from my journal notes when I stayed there. A blog post. I don't know. This part is bit fuzzy.
If I get stuck, I IM 'Rez or Jonny.
At around 11:50 I wander into the kitchen and eat handful of olives, real ones from the Arabic market, while I make a bagel sandwich with chicken and tomato.
Kate forgets that she doesn't like olives and begs for one.
As usual.

I give her one.
As usual.

She drops it by her water dish and looks at me with mournful eyes.
As usual.

I eat as I make the rounds, checking food and water on all the pets. George Eliot is calmer.
Magellan is getting bigger. Which is good except for the fact that he likes hiding in that one little arch of the 'mayan ruins' and is prolly gonna get stuck one of these days.
The gold fish are ridiculously happy in their new pond in the back. Luigi almost propels himself up out of the water to get to the food I drop in.
Hazel laid some more eggs.

I uncoil the hose and water the plants in the front yard.
I pick some sweet peas and put a few vases around the house. And one on my elderly neighbor's porch.

Sweet peas make me think of Bunny and I call and chat with her for a while.

I throw together a small greek salad and wander back to my office. I answer a few emails. I spend 15 minutes staring at the collage of pictures on my wall, of my toes in various oceans and lakes and rivers. I think about how I don't have one of my toes in the artic ocean, and whether I would want to stick my bare foot in. I decide worry about it later, specifically in four months when I go to the tip of South America.

I write until about 4:40pm when I get stiff from sitting and run out of excuses to clean the bathroom.

After that, I start a soap with the chicken broth and garlic and potatos. I light the grill on the porch to grill some eggplants and eat half an avocado right out of the peel, with garlic salt, while I cook. I open a bottle of red wine and pour a glass. While the soap cooks, I run a vacuum over the living room rug and find a book in the couch cushions. I end up curled up on the couch with the book and wine when I hear my soup start to boil over.

I rescue the soup while a couple of my friends start to arrive, letting themselves in. I pour more wine and we set the table and eat.
After dinner we lounge around and tell stories and play card games with rampant cheating.

Then we wander down to the corner store for popcicles and come back and sit outside until it gets too chilly and we hug and air kiss each other.

I go back in and load the dishwasher and grab a slice of bread and wander back the living room to find that book. I find that one of my friends has arranged the decorative marbles in a vase onto the edge of the bookshelf, spelling out, "I like marbles and you."

I read for another half an hour, then brush my teeth and cover the birds. I slide back in between the sheets and drift off to sleep, daydream blending into dream...........