Sparks

Ten and I were in Cambridge yesterday – Porter Square to be all precise and shit. We were hunting for an appropriate bday gift for our man Oni. While searching, we found some wickedly fun art. At the Mudflat Gallery we stumbled on the MOST awesome work by Steve Murphy . No, I couldn’t afford this beauty, at right, but I think I’m def gonna motor back in today for a mug. Mebbe two.

At Christopher’s we came across Anita Loomis’s funky, smile inducing paintings.  It occurred to me, not for the first time, that my paintings might fit in well at Christopher’s. Why haven’t I approached them about an exhibit before? Chickenhearted fear of rejection. I think I’m past that now. See? Aging isn’t all aches, pains and wrinkles – there's losing needless insecurities too.

Yesterday was not only stunningly gorgeous, it was inspiring.

And then last night I had another bit of inspiration. I dreamed I was in very rural and trés wooded Ireland. Possibly this was the forest and hills of Wicklow. Four couples and I were moving into a complex there. It was five small, single story, attached houses – the collection of ‘em looked more like a roadside no-tell motel than anything else. NOT inviting except for the fact that they were in the middle of a beautiful, mountainous, dense wood with no other evidence of humanity around. Just us

It occurs to me – this set up appeals to the misanthropic yet social-ISH hermit-wannabe in me.

Before we’d gotten all our belongings through the new doors, two of the five couples had done a runner. No goodbyes, not even a “'scuse us, we gotta run down to the bodega for smokes.” Nope, nada. This didn’t bode well for our fresh domestic adventure

The two remaining couples and I continued hauling our crap inside, setting up lamps, making beds and such.

The piece I’m all curious about is this – in real life I know one of the couples who, in dream forest world stuck around.  The wife and I used to be close. That is until, on the very first AM of a week to be spent visiting them just north of Dublin, the husband, without notice, kicked me out for the crime of being an early riser.  Apparently, getting out of bed and making any more noise than a library mouse was against house rules. Oopsie, I didn’t get the memo.

Growth is painful. Change is painful. But nothing is as painful as staying stuck somewhere you don't belong.
~ Mandy Hale

I haven’t spoken with my friend with the unfortunate spouse since that bizarre, unexpectedly expensive, on-my-own trip. I think my subconscious is telling me that it’s, quite likely, time to get back in touch.

Yesterday wasn't Saturday, it was Inspiration Day!