Once in a while a thought comes into my head.
I said, once in a while.
Today it's pretty much blank.
Oh wait. Here's one.
Nah. It's gone already. That happens a lot lately.
Hey, you wanna hear about a dream I had the other night?
It was about a flying fish. I was standing outside with a couple of friends. Well, I think they were friends. I didn't know them but in my dream I knew them.
Anyway. I saw this fish high up in the sky and I pointed it out to my friends. We watched as it swam/flew and you could tell it was coming closer. I thought it looked like a shark and was scared it was going to come after us so I opened the back door of the car and sat on the edge of the seat with the door and window open. The fish kept swimming closer and closer and I told my friends I thought it was coming right for us. My one friend opened his arms like he was ready to catch it and it landed right in his arms but kept coming toward me and hit me alongside my head and neck with so much force it knocked me awake!
It was so real I turned to Harry and said, "Hey, a fish just woke me up!"
And as if he heard me utter something so ridiculous first thing every morning, he sleepily asked me what kind and how big was it.
Speaking of fish, Harry and I were coming home from dinner last Friday. It was just beginning to get dark. Usually old Mr. Eagle Eyes sees things I don't but it was me who cried out, "Hey, I think that was a bear!"
I could tell he wasn't convinced I knew the difference between a bear and a skunk, so he stopped and backed up. And by golly, it was a big black bear, just walking nonchalantly across someone's yard. We watched him amble past the owner's car, in back of a garden and then he came back and sat right down in the driveway.
Harry thought he could have been anywhere between 300-400 pounds. That's the second bear sighting we had this year. The first was of a mama bear and three little cubs.
I'm thinking that's two too many bear sightings for me. If I ever knew one was nosing around in my yard, I'd never leave the house without a .45 strapped to my side and a pair of PF. Flyers glued to my feet.
Do you ever drive down the road and see the little oval stickers on the back of a car that flaunts to the world where they've been on vacation? Like OBX (Outer Banks), LBI (Long Beach Island), CC (Cape Cod).
I don't have any on the back of mine. But if I did they'd be something like this: WM (Weis Markets), HD (Hahn's Dairy), SMC (St. Matthew's Church), MH (Mom's House).
I saw this one on a parked car once, NCWYB. I thought maybe it had to be some foreign place across the ocean where he had to have his car shipped there and back. I walked up to read the fine print. NCWYB is in the land of Nobody Cares Where You've Been.
Right on. Because if I can't go there, I don't want anybody else going there and having a good time without me.
I was looking for something in my desk drawer and found a jingle bell.
I think I placed it there because it had a special meaning.
Unfortunately I've forgotten its special meaning.
Now it's just an old jingle bell that's taking up space for no apparent reason.
But I put it back. Just in case I remember why I saved it in the first place.
Hey! It could happen!
That's like Harry was going through our lock box the other night, looking for an important paper we should have saved.
I say "should have" because he never did find it.
But what he did find was a Cabbage Patch Kid's birth certificate.
Where was it?
Well, duh. Exactly where you would think. Under the B's for Birth Certificate.
What boggles his mind is that I thought a doll's make-believe birth certificate merited safekeeping among the family's valuable papers.
Here's the thing. Twenty-seven years ago, I stood in several lines waiting to buy a Cabbage Patch doll for Becky that Christmas then told they were all sold out by the time they got to me. It was the only thing she asked for from Santa and I was determined that Santa was bringing her a Cabbage Patch Kid Christmas morning.
So when I was finally successful in acquiring Lettie Addie, it was a pretty big deal. I was saved from having to explain to a little six-year-old girl why Santa Claus, who has this magical ability to bring good little girls and boys what they really want for Christmas, was unable to bring her the only thing she asked for.
Becky took the whole adoption thing seriously and she wanted to have Lettie's birth certificate kept safe with hers. So I put it in the lock box. After all, I didn't know if someday Lettie would need it when she applied for a Cabbage Patch driver's license or a Cabbage Patch marriage license.
I'm going to leave you with this random thought.
On Gilligan's Island, how did Ginger have so many different outfits when they were only going on a 3 hour tour?