So, I'm up at 6 on Sunday morning, and have been up for the past two hours because some kindly neighbor decided to set off fireworks at 4. When I heard the explosions I was in a deep sleep and imagined that somebody was trying to break in with dynamite.
So now I'm on the porch swing, listening to dozens of birds calling to each other, feeling oddly grateful for that neighbor. It was sweet (after the initial shock this morning) to wake with the day. And everytime I think of last night's dream, I chuckle.
So here goes: I was at a store which was something like Stanleys (a top-notch low cost North Side produce store) only this wasn't the Stanley's I know and love. Instead, it was a whole new Stanley's which was small but (get this!) featured every single exoctic pregnancy food I crave at unbeatable prices.
So I was walking through the store, chucking things in my cart. I might have been humming, "Yippidi do-dah, yippidi-eh, my oh my what a wonderful day," but the details are fading fast. I know, however, that the Stanley's of my fantasies had every manner of swiss milk chocolate, Elderflower Press, Salt and Vinegar Chips and Sour Patch Kids.
Although I blush to recount this dream, I must say, to my credit (if there is any credit left to be given) the dream had one odd twist: I came home and my neighbor Penny had left three cartons of broccoli on the back porch, with a note that said, "Just back from the Farmer's Market. First broccoli of the season. Help Yourself." So I nibbled a little of the broccoli and it was the sweetest, tastiest, I'd ever encountered. And then I thought to myself, "I can't believe I missed the broccoli at the Farmer's Market, and I already went this week. Is it okay to go twice?"