The 70's Carpet

I dreamed of a movie theatre where behind every screen there was a garishly decorated Ferris wheel. My dad got on one and I had to be excited for him.

Visiting someone, she said, "I'm sorry you have to experience the old carpet down there."  And upon reaching the basement, I found the carpet to be very agreeable and attractive, retro and well-kept.  It looked Brady Bunch but it was so inoffensive that I just really felt bad for my hostess for being so self-conscious!

But perhaps that is the job of the hostess. 

I went to Teavana and visited my friends and they made me a cup of tea! Blueberry pineapple.

I dreamed that I had taken video footage of my sister swimming around as a mermaid and that my teacher and classmates got to see it. 

Now, my sister has beautiful hair. She wears it all up for her job, but take her to a bar and she'll let it all down. It will cascade in honey-colored waves as she sways her head to fluff it out. 

As a mermaid, though. Her hair was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes me wonder if humans should live underwater instead of on land, because it floats and flows with a grace and levity and, well, fluidity, that it lacks in air. As soon as one surfaces from the water, hair becomes sticky seaweed plastered down over a person's head. Oh, that we could be merpeople. 

You know that moment, though, when you walk slowly down an incline into a body of water and it gets deeper and deeper and it climbs higher and higher on your body until even your face is submerged and only the crown of your head is left dry?  You pause a moment, and then slowly lift your feet from the bottom and let your body bring your head slowly and smoothly underwater. The feeling of the cool water slowly closing over your head is like none other. Like a door closing between worlds, almost - something that you can't notice if you go too fast. 

I had a thought today at work that I really wanted to blog about. And heavens to Betsy, I can't remember it. I have so many good thoughts I can't write down during work. 

I got a book out of the library called "the hipster handbook" or something, but it was published in 2001, over ten years ago, so what I'm reading is almost sure to be obsolete material. But now I'm starting to want to call things "deck" instead of "cool!"