footsies on my body

[May 1, 2004] We just went to an outlet mall--to the Shoe Factory. There was this little boy of about 7 years old with a footsie over his head. It mashed his brown hair down to look like a bald child. He kept reaching up over his head and grabbing more footsies from the footsie basket. There was one over each of his feet--over each kleeted shoe he wore.

"Are you gonna put those all over your body?" a clerk asked.

"No," he replied.

Earlier I heard him say, "These are AWESOME! They ROCK!"

It cracked me up, and now I want to go put footsies all over my body. In fact, I think I will.

Want to change the world, there's nothing to it!

Walking along the sidewalk with my friends yesterday, I sang, "Come with me and you'll see a world of pure imagination!...If you want to view paradise..."

Suddenly, before even completing that phrase, something dropped out of the sky! "What? It's not raining," I thought. Looking at my hand where the substance landed, however, I realized that that on my hand was not part of the paradise in my song. No. Rather, it was bird dung so pleasantly given to me as a gift.

"...simply look around and view it!" I continued, with my hand held high, pointing at the world about me, "Anything you want to do it. Want to change the world, there's nothing to it!"

Obviously, that bird wanted, and succeeded momentarily, to change the world--to change my world.

my favorite things...

This is a funny dream worth mentioning, even if it did happen a couple years ago.

Summer time with my dad, we were at a baseball game. My dad walked up to the fence and watched intently while I stood back in the crowd. Suddenly, for no reason at all, I broke out singing, "My Favorite Things" from The Sound of Music, at the top of my lungs. No one seemed to mind, instead the people around me looked at each other with smiling eyes and joined me in song. It was glorious!

When the song was over I looked to my dad, still at the fence. There was something wrong with this picture. Confused, I stepped up, squinted and craned my neck forward toward him, "Dad! You're wearing my pants!"

Immediately, he turned to me, held his finger to his lips and said, "SHHHH!" With the other hand, he reached into the back pocket of those favorite jeans of mine, and pulled out a wad of money. He shoved it in my hand--that crumpled pile of cash--then turned back to the game without another word.

Before I could count all of the dough, I woke and laughed.