Mondegreen

He couldn't believe his ears.
And from the sounds of things,
I can understand why.

But he grabbed them regardless and bolted...
He ran with them regardless.
Because no matter what they told him,
He truly believed today would be his lucky day.

Who Are You?

I forget you on purpose.
I forget you because if I remember how I felt I would fall in love all over again.
And I know that I would fall.
And it would hurt.
And it wouldn't be a bruise or two.
It would be more than a scuff up. It would be broken bones and open wounds that would require stitches. And I know myself enough to now that I would carry it with me and I wouldn't let it heal.
I would let it fester into something bigger than and more painful than it really needs to be.
And I'm pretty certain I wouldn't like that.
But something tells me
That knowing you, you probably would.

Lustre

The coin's lustre captured the light just right to secure her attention as she hurriedly walked through the park. She picked it up excitedly and held it up to the sun. She smiled with satisfaction and relief, marveling at its full potential. For her its glint meant far more than the 25 cents it was worth. It represented opportunities, ideas, and possibilities. Most importantly it meant hope. Because she knew, at that very point, it was time for life to change.

Potty Humor

I dreamt about shit. Literally.

I dreamt about shit and how much mine stank.

I dreamt I worked in a room filled with toilet bowls and at some point in the day, each one of my co-workers would walk in there and take care of business. You know, what I mean - they'd drop their kids at the pool, lay cable, whatever you want to call it.

At some point it was my turn to drop my contribution in the pot. Being new to the company and an introvert by nature, the whole prospect of shitting in public made me nervous. So I held it.

Finally four o'clock rolled around and I decided I need to belly up to the john and get it over with. I drop my drawers, take a seat, and shit.

"Damn, girl. What did you eat?" someone yells out.

"Nothing but the truth," I said. "I swear."

"Well, I don't know what that is," he said, "but it sure does stink."

I had to admit, he was right.

You Just Don't Get It

Maybe I don't have the right words to explain to you what I'm thinking, but here - let me try:

It's like looking for concrete but only finding quick sand and thinking that "Maybe that's okay for now." But you know in your heart that it's not because as soon as you find solid ground, you're pretty damn certain that you're going to take a stand.

You forgot what I said to you yesterday, but repeated it to me today as though it were your own. You believe that everything should resonate - and it does . The problem is it never builds.

There is strength in understanding, but it's power is limited if you make no effort to understand. I've already lost what I found because perhaps what I believe to know isn't truly what I thought it was in the first place.

Press stop.
Be you.
And hope that maybe all of this is nothing more than a dream.

Jiggle It

Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel like one of those big, round jello fruit molds? All mixed up and little bit wobbly? Don't worry, me too. In fact, I kind of feel like that all the time. It might explain why I have trouble wearing heels.

So my advice? Eat it, don't be it.

And to help you meet this objective, here's a recipe for you to try at home:

FRESH PINEAPPLE MOLD

1 1/2 c. fresh pineapple, cut
into small pieces
1 c. water
1/2 c. apricot nectar juice
4 tbsp. agar
agar flakes
3 mandarin oranges, sectioned
1 banana,
sliced

Puree pineapple and water together in a blender. Pour into a
saucepan, add apricot nectar and agar, and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and
simmer 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Remove from heat and pour agar mixture
into a mold prerinsed with cold water, and refrigerate until it starts to set,
about 20 minutes. When agar mixture is ready, gently fold in mandarin orangesand sliced banana. Refrigerate until set. Unmold and garnish with fresh
pineapple pieces.

And as a bonus, it's vegan friendly!
No animal bones were used to make everything gel.

The Start of a Sunday

It was my idea to steal the car. Though really, I'm sure that had he known there was a car to steal, he would have come up with the idea himself. But he didn't know and I did. So it was me who had to jump on it and say, "Why don't we steal the car?"

His initial hesitation caught me a little bit off guard. "I don't know…" he said uneasily. It was the first time I saw uncertainty light up in his eyes - or maybe it was responsibility, but I think I've seen that in him before.

But really, we had no choice. I think it must be in the Bible somewhere that if a guy is going to take a day off from work, the least you can do is make an effort to make it memorable.

The goose chase we invented was a little nuts. Walk to metro. Take green line to red line, red line to orange line. Take the orange line to a taxi that will take us to one of the few grocery stores in the world that happened to have a bank that was open on Sunday. Within fifteen minutes upon reaching our destination, we would then begin to repeat the routine in reverse. It was a Sunday excursion that bore no guarantee that we would make it back by Monday.

Not that it mattered to me, I would have walked the world with him until the Fourth of July, but I could smell from Texas his tolerance, and it wouldn't last past noon. That's why we stole the car.

People who live in fear hate Sundays. For those who fear God, it's the churchgoers double parked on a one way street that drive them nuts. For the overachiever, it's the notion of a day at rest that puts their dress socks in a knot. And those who hate their jobs? Well Sundays stink because they come before Mondays. The split-couple-kid, sighs as he trades in his weekend retreat of candy bars and Saturday morning cartoons for the reality of bed times and homework, while the drunks pace the streets, cursing the fact that liquor stores are closed.

Me? It's usually Netflix, laundry, and maybe an hour wrestling with a pair of rollerblades, but the idea that it could be a new beginning, a fresh day, or even a few hours of un-expectations, well shit, I’d trade my quarters and stolen DVD in a heart beat. The best of days come out of the worst of days…and today was one of those. So yes, we stole the car.