Friday, March 23, 2012

What a nightmare

I dreamed I was pregnant.

I'll be 61 in a couple of months, so you know it was a nightmare to dream about being "in a family way." (Don't you just love those old-fashioned euphemisms?) I can barely stay awake after 8 p.m., any infant depending on me for sustenance at 2 a.m. is going to starve.

Several things have come together recently to create this line of subconscious thought. In theory, anyway.

  • My husband found a box of his baby clothes in a closet at his mother's.*
  • I saw the cutest pattern for baby booties that look like little Uggs yesterday.
  • The gardening marathon lately must have me thinking fertile thoughts.

Really, what more do you need to conjure up images of diapers and sounds of babies cooing than that?  Heh.

My husband is a shrink, but I don't think I'm going to request an analysis of this dream. Best to let sleeping babies lie. Or lay. I always did confuse lie/lay.

Today is a gym day, and then I'm dropping off what I hope is the final proof of the design-by-committee project I've been working on for the last two weeks but am charging them for only three hours' time. Non-profits get a break, but this will be an especially big one. Sigh. If it doesn't rain this afternoon, I BET THERE WILL BE MORE GARDENING AROUND HERE.

Yesterday was the one-year anniversary of my husband stopping smoking. He's still chewing way too much nicotine gum (by his own admission), but his lungs surely are clearer now than they were when we found out he doesn't have lung cancer a year ago. Nothing like a miraculous diagnosis to get you to quit smoking, eh?

Speaking of the husband, he put this note by the coffeemaker several months ago:
Gardening is an active participation in the deepest mysteries of the universe.
~ Thomas Berry
(I'll help you next year.)
And he's following through! All the work I've been doing this week has been in tandem. He's not crazy about weeding onion beds, but he doesn't mind raking dead leaves or moving rocks. Whatever works. I just wish he didn't mind cleaning bathtubs.

* Also in the baby-clothes box was his Little League baseball uniform, which he last wore more than 55 years ago. He tried on the shirt last night and it fits! He was as proud as any woman still fits into her wedding gown on her 10th anniversary. What it really shows is just what a big kid he was in Little League, because he's a perfectly normal-sized man.

1 comment:

Diandra said...

The pregnancy could be a symbol. Maybe you're about to come up with a great new idea?