Near the village.... the peaceful one.

   A couple of days ago, I was walking down the street headed to the store when coming slowly towards me I noticed a young woman in an orange dress.  Not nasty slurpee orange.  More like an autumnal-leaf-I-wear-birks-and-nerdy-glasses kind of orange. As we neared each other, I could see her mouth was moving.  She was walking quite slowly, more an amble really.  Nearer still and I heard her quietly singing...."in the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight". Loud enough to be heard obviously, but not so loud as to carry very far beyond her own enjoyment.  I had been nursing this song in my own head for several days, so it was a treat to hear it out of the blue like this.  As we passed each other, I smiled politely at her and received the same in return.   Just beyond our passing, say about 20 feet up the sidewalk was a small child.  The woman in orange was taking her time going up the street to allow the young girl in tow (with her wee little legs) a chance to catch up.  As the wee-wee lass dawdled her way up the street, running her hand along the picket fence beside her (being sure to bounce off each tine on her way) I noticed that she too was singing something:   wimoweh...  wimoweh... lion... da jungoo... sweeping.  It was like the song was driving them forward and yet also nearer to each other.  A truly sweet and rare moment. 

   I carried on the rest of the way to the store with the wry grin of a lucky witness tracing my face.  I popped into the corner store to grab an item or two.  I pick up what I needed.  Paid my due.   Said my "good day" to the shop keep.  Went on my merry way.... 

...  then just as I was opening the door to go out, I caught the faintest hint, just a whispered tease of a melody from behind the cash:

dee dee dee dee - de dee de dee dee - de dee de dee dee deeeeee

   I will never be certain where the song began, but I saw where it was going, where it had been, and I got to join it a while in it's journey.  Maybe even help it along a bit...

   

To Sleep Per Chance....

I've been thinking about sleep of late.  Habitually I don't quite get enough of it.  So I began to muse on the ways and means of it all...   The rites and rituals of rest:

Geography:  bed right (like stage right, but lying down), typically facing the door. If there is an adjoining wall, my back will be towards it. 

Pillows: Two. One firm, one soft. I may use either one or both if the mood fits. 

Covers: light or non-existent in summer, douvet in winter.

Window: open if possible, curtains open/blinds up.

Waterglass: only with a fever

My "roommate" 

Georgraphy: centre bed, head to the door, face to the wall. 

Pillow: one

Cover: one (two if chilled)

Window: open, curtains drawn/blind down

Waterglass: every night 

My father was a bed left man; Mother - bed right.

All this analysis was triggered by a curiosity about how sleeping orientation and habit may offer insight into character traits expressed in the waking hours. No conclusions as yet, but there are insights to be had.

n.b.   As an experiment, I am trying to explore the real estate dormie available to me:  Centre bed is a strange place. Delightfully symmetrical, but oddly disarming.

In defiance of Twitter

Welcome one and all... 

I am uncertain what possessed me to begin blogging (this is the correct term, yes?). I have historically maintained a relatively low tech profile. I had no reason to change. Yet after idly flopping around the magical interwebiness, I stumbled over a dear memory. After reading some of their many insights, I felt some how empowered to share some of my own.  There may also be other contributing factors:

• A growing desire to redefine and assert myself after a year of significant change.
  
• A spanky new laptop from which to post.
• A penchant for verbosity that twitter just kain't handle.
• Middle Aged Brain Droop 

I was, therefore I am or will be, henceforth I blog...