Note to self: Remember why you write.
This blog is dedicated to perfect days (which never come) so more specifically, perfect moments in imperfect days.
Moments that would pass unnoticed if it were not for a desire to remember them.
Yesterdays moments came with surprises.
I made the front page of the daily newspaper. Well, my pink velour Grandmother-given sweat suit made the paper, to be fully honest.
We went to the movie, "The Prestige" without any prejudices--just a desire to be entertained and to avoid that hateful late afternoon block when the sun stalls in the sky and time drips by. That movie was fabulous! Great ending! Had us talking and thinking and reworking storylines all night long. Plus my girlfriend, Scarlett Johansson, was yet another pathetic scorned lover--the role she was born to play.
After the movie, we watched the credits roll while trying to place the voice of the one who was singing audiences out of the theater. I kept saying,
"It's Travis! I know it!"
Chup stayed unconvinced and we waited around until the soundtrack rolled. Thom Yorke. Lead singer of Radiohead.
I like to leave an empty theater, you get your full money worth, to the very last studio logo.
Later, I found a perfect pillow for my stripped couch, a new autumnal wreath (half-off) now hanging by purple ribbon on my front door, and an improved less-brisly welcome mat. When given a little spending cash it's always dropped on clothes. It was nice to give the house a little make-over. I think it was smiling back at me when I turned the lights off last night.
Ralph and Duchess got an extra-long walk. Chup spent the afternoon by himself, shopping and getting an oil change. I sat in the afforded sun in the living room and studied. Bed linens were changed. Towels were washed. We chatted with Jesse about his handsome baby Max who arrived last week to the arms and energy of big sister Lydia and big brother Buggy.
It was a day lived well . . . but with drops of anxiety.
How could life be so good?
What bad news is stirring up around the corner?
Last night I had a dream that I shared a double-decker bus ride with Sarah Jessica Parker. We became fast friends while she taught me how to ignore cat calls from suspecting men from the back seat.
Not only do I have the perfect pillow on my stripped couch, I have tools of dignity from an A-list celebrity.
How could life possibly improve my life?