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July 29, 1997 8:44AM EST Then the sweetness in the air Combined with the lightness in my head And I heard the jungle breathing in the bamboo -- Spirit Voices, Paul Simon The air was cool and still as I stood waiting for the bus this morning. A woman stood there as I walked up to the stop, she was dressed in a white blouse and a kilt which reminded me of a school uniform, but she was much too old to still be in school. We boarded the bus and it rocked on down the road as usual, steering out into the growing golden light of the day. I mostly slept through the ride in, I was awake and reading, but the rest of my brain was still lulled back there somewhere in the land of dreams. Leaving the Metro, the light reached out to envelope me as it always does as the escalator moves up out of the bowels of the Earth and back up into the sun. As I crossed the circle this morning I was struck by the sight of a woman who came striding out of the sun. She had a wild crown of golden hair, and the most intense look on her face. I'm fairly certain that my presence didn't even register in her mind because she was so intensely focused on whatever it was that was on her mind as she moved, rapidly around the circle. She was dressed all in black, t-shirt, tightish pants and teetering high heeled sandals. But she walked with a confident stride and I started wondering who she was and where she was going looking so determined, so early in the morning. But within seconds she was gone and I was passing a rotund little man with a pink splotched tie and a pair of comfort shoes. I've been clicking around the web all morning. Revisiting old friends and making some new acquaintances. Like Jake, whom I am familiar with from mindspace, but whose site I had not yet visited. Everywhere I go I find echoes of things that I have thought some time or another. And the true similarity between all humans, couched in uniqueness comes back to strike me anew with the magic of its dissimilar same-ness. So many things in common, yet still so different, every one of us. Amazing isn't it? Last night I made Sabs one of his favorite dinners: rotelle pasta with melted grated swiss and ketchup all mixed together in a big bowl with some Polska Kielbasa. The pasta is a dish his mother used to make for him a lot when she wanted to give him a hearty meal, but they'd not been able to buy much at the grocery store. He loves it and requests it every so often when he gets a craving for it. Personally, I can't stand the thought of putting that in my mouth: I hate ketchup and Swiss is not my favorite cheese. The two together smell raunchy and I am certain must taste even worse, but Sabs assures me that it's wonderful. I love the way the polish sausage is labeled ... "Polska Kielbasa" I don't say 'polish sausage' or just 'kielbasa' when referring to it anymore, I like saying "Polska Kielbasa" way too much. Just say it ... roll it over your tongue ... "Polska Kielbasa" ... yeah ... I made a couple of mess-ups at work yesterday, nothing big though. All I really want right now is some breakfast ..... as Homer Simpson would say "Mmmmm .... Donuts .... " |