My Moon, My Man

I can't get Feist's song "My Moon, My Man" outta my head. Not that'd I'd want to....

Speaking of which, MY Man is pretty awesome. He made me this little flashcard thingie of the reasons why he loves me. And I was sick yesterday, so he brought me two pints of Ben and Jerry's. Our anniverary is November 8th...3 years! I can't hardly believe it. Seems like yesterday we had our first kiss on the swingset near my cousins' house. He's so great! Everything is easy with him. In many ways, I think true love has a lot to do with an underlying friendship. Stefan is my best friend. He accepts me with all my flaults, and understands me without ever having to speak a word. And, I've noticed how so many couples don't talk, probably because they've run out of things that they feel comfortable saying to their significant other. But not us. There's always something to say. I apologise if it sounds like I'm bragging, but honestly, I am saying this to remind everyone that love is something that is very precious and vital. And I AM bragging a little. Sorry. I still get all giggly when he comes to visit me at work.

I hope that when I die, my spirit flies up into the skies and swirls around the mountains, and blows the dandilions. Then my ashes would float on the ocean, and little fishies would eat some of it, and the rest would go into a coral reef. Then my soul would begin again anew, and when a baby takes it's first breath, it would take in my soul. I suppose I believe in reincarnation. If energy recycles itself, why not myself? And I hope that the love I have inside floats around like little invisible balloons, and inspires people to do good deeds. I hope anyway.

I feel like spending some time in the sunshine. I miss the cool of spring. I want to sit in a hilly field of green grass, in a big flowy white dress and purple boots. I want to play a ukulele and take pictures of deer with a vintage Canon. I want to wear a wreath of flowers in my hair. I want to skip! I want to spin round and round, and dance like a hippie flower child. I want to think of only the present and smile and laugh and drink lemonade. I want to lay naked in the tall grass and look at the clouds. Oh how I miss my childhood. I wish so much of it hadn't been stolen from me.

Colors are taken for granted. We think so little of the miracle that is color, probably because all of our lives are filled with spectacular color. But there are times that I see a color and it just knocks the wind outta me. Deep, vibrant blues typically are the ones that hit me hardest, but I go through color phases where one particular hue, or a group of colors, strike me. I feel really alive when I am around a bold color. Like it breathes life into my tired soul. Sometimes I get sad looking at the color swatches at paint departments, because the colors aren't vibrant enough. I like the drama of color. When we went to the Its a Small World ride at Disney, I got so inspired, because the colors are so gorgeous. Sometimes I'll do a painting because I want to stare and envelop myself in a particular color. I hated studying the color wheel (despite the fact that it makes so much sense) because it took the fun out of color. After all, no real artist looks at a color wheel to decide what should go on the canvas.

Anyhoo, that's all I have to say for now.
Love and pancakes,
Mimi