Dreaming the World

A rainy, windy, mid-March day. Maybe thunderstorms and flooding later. Dense fog. The maple buds are beginning to show red.

Last week I came down with a cold, the first one in ages. It has lingered, so after a bit of packing or doing other tasks I am done for the day. This has meant that I have not been reading other blogs, an activity I normally cherish. I did manage, in a moment of being energized, to reconfigure the sound studio. It now seems much more friendly as a user space.

Saturday afternoon I managed a haircut. My last one was last summer when I had a very handsome buzz cut. Oddly, my hair grew quite slowly and has become unmanageable only recently. Our stylist is a few towns over, and it was late by the time she had finished with both of us, so we treated ourselves to a delicious dinner at a bistro not far from her, we have been wanting to try.

We have been weeding though our library and have managed to donate a few hundred books. The process of downsizing house by almost half is not simple.

The other night I had a dream in which I saw the president as a frightened, lonely, enraged eight year old in an old man’s body. I was, thus, reminded that child abuse and neglect inevitably impact all of us. People who gather great power without ever growing up are dangerous indeed.