thanks Santa!

Well, what you plan and what takes place ain't ever exactly been similar

I keep having dreams that I am forgetting things, dire -- my toothpaste, my passport, my tights-- or dreams that the timing is wrong -- I thought we were leaving two days later and now we are leaving now and the car is at the door and how will I ever throw things I need into a bag in time --- and then there was the night I watched Highlander before bed and everyone in my dreams had swords that sparked and lazer light shows and men with eyes so close together, they seemed crossed.

I just want to be on the plane.

Also? That was my boot covered in mud last Friday. I walked around for about three hours with feet like that. Like carrying weights on the soles of my shoes.

Threw my Shoe

Forgotten bins reside high up in my closet (I live in a studio, things are wedged everywhere). I was looking for a place to store pillows, and came across a slender bin housing hidden shoes. Clunky, amazing Vans and Docs, take me back quick to high school and early college when these pairs of shoes were my mainstays. And so, I apparently have not gotten rid of them.

I have been the queen of leaving unwanted items on street corners (scarves, TVs, broken cameras, cookbooks, even a John Mellencamp casette tape which I found propped up against a tree, shrine-like, later that evening). I had every intention, upon finding this nestled bin, of disposing of its contents since I obviously hadn't opened it in years.

But I can't. I clunked everywhere in these ungraceful things. The red shoes, they are platformed and dyed my socks red if the shoes became wet; I invariably managed to find wet lawns in them. The green shoes were such a find, and made my feet look small and squat, gnome-like. The Docs? I traipsed around Ireland in those, giving myself shin-splints by dancing endlessly in them at a caleigh in Belfast. I should get rid of them. I really should.

hmmmmmyeah, click, the plastic lid goes back on...

(maybe next time)