06 September 2007

Mysterious ways

I love absurdity, which is good because much of my life is absurd. And whether I'm the author of whatever mayhem is taking place, or simply an utterly willing participant, it's usually memorable.

This week, I think I've finally devolved to "act your shoe size, not your age."

I do wear a size 10, though, so all is not lost.

It started on Tuesday, with a trip to Michaels. Well, really, it started about a month ago in Denver, when a lightbulb suddenly went off over my friend D.'s head. I saw it go off, it was such a "Eureka!" moment. So, of course, we promptly hatched a plan, and then we got sick, and then she had to go back to work and I had to get the kids' back to school.

You know how it goes. The plan moves to the back burner in the wake of this thing we call having a life.

But things calmed down for me, and I started thinking about that idea of D's.

I wonder if such labours of insanity are always born of sheer wildass fun. D. spent the summer traveling with her son, and I, along with another of our friends, dropped in on them for a few hours at carefully chosen stops on their trip. The day usually ended with someone under a table, laughing hysterically, or curled in the fetal position in the backseat of a car, laughing hysterically. There was a lot music, a lot of getting lost--I think I spent more time lost in the Las Vegas airport this summer than I did anywhere else--some bad salads, and a lot of laughter.

Whole lotta chicken, too.

So, Michaels. I needed supplies. Why isn't the point. It was that the infectious hilarity of the summer kept bubbling over while I grabbed a tiny pair glasses, a bag of dinosaurs, a handful of googly eyes, and a whole bunch of felt. I started to fear internal hemmorhage, I was trying so hard not to laugh out loud.

Construction started today, and I emailed pictures of the progress to D.

I could almost hear her laughter from a thousand miles away.

Go listen to some good music: "Mysterious Ways" from the album Achtung Baby by U2.