I have had an idea.
Actually, I have lots of ideas. . .but this one is an idea for SCHOOL for a PROJECT. And I’ve not had one of THOSE ideas in quite awhile.
It’s a good one too. It involves the book we’re reading and an activity for kids who are done. I was just lying in bed after having hit the snooze button AGAIN, pretending that I didn’t have to get up and go to work, when ****WHAMO****there it was. Sandwiched in between
whatever twenty million other things were floating in the flotsam of my thoughts at the moment.
This brain of ours–this God-made computer–the one that connects ideas and thoughts into categories and maps–the one that memorizes songs and imprints scents and cleans house each night by way of dreams–it amazes me.
Lately I’ve been thinking my brain hasn’t been working so well. It’s been foggy–cloudy–full. And that’s the problem–it’s too full–too many things in there–an OCEAN of thoughts–an ocean that’s churning–too much flotsam with my jetsam.
Last night I went for a walk. I did not rush. I did not try to break into exercise mode. I just walked. I saw some boys playing tackle football in a sideyard as big as a postage stamp (“You can’t HUG him–TACKLE him.”), I saw LOTS of hot pink–a stroller, a big ‘ole motorized Barbie car, some fading roses and one that was just in bloom, geraniums on tall, straight stems, pajama pants on a pregnant gal who was also out walking, I saw the BLACKEST mulch I’ve ever seen–really, really black, I saw a man doing yard work and kids in a cul de sac on riding toys and moms gossiping in driveways.
And then I rounded the corner and saw my house. When I walk, I come home a way I normally don’t travel. I always see my house from the same direction. It’s one of those where the garage sticks out further than the front of the house, and we normally come down the street on the garage side. But when I walk, I go further into the neighborhood, and as I come home, I see the house part of our house first–the chimney–the Italian cypress–the front door. I also see our neighbor’s house from a different point of view–everything is flipped.
Last night I stopped on the sidewalk–no need for cool down since I’d never really warmed up. I stopped and I just looked for a bit at what lay before me.
I haven’t walked since Spring Break when the swelling of my ankles kicked into high gear. But walking is an elixir for me along with naps and good food and writing my thoughts and laughter and talking to friends. When I get busy–those are the first thing to go. I set them aside as though they are “extras” rather than necessities. Lately, along with all of my busy-ness, I’ve indulged in some of those things more frequently in an effort to be kinder to myself. I’ve tried to slow the pace where I can, because life keeps it busy enough.
And this morning, I had an idea–a good one.
Funny how that happens.