I woke up early this morning and just laid there in the dark.
Only it wasn't as dark as usual so I pulled back the curtains of the 8 ft. sliding glass doors in our bedroom (nani nani) to find that my world was covered in snow.
For once I felt what it must be like to live inside a Thomas Kinkade painting.
Do you have any idea how long I've dreamed of living inside a Thomas Kinkade painting?
Almost as long as I've dreamed of living inside a Robert Doisneau photo.
I mean, don't you ever wonder what goes on in those little cottages?
I think I might be right about one thing. Inside every Thomas Kinkade painting there is a beautiful golden retriever sprawled out next to my bed.
So I laid there for a while listening to my golden retriever breathing, and you know what my mind kept wandering to? My favorite bishop (sniff). And Herman, our best friend from college (sniff). And Stan, our first magic quilt recipient (sniff sniff).
A little tear slid down my cheek because they're not here anymore. And that's just weird.
But then I felt something for a second. It was a warm feeling, like they're not here, but they're not gone either. They're just living inside this beautiful painting.
Maybe with my dad.
(At least I hope my dad's there. What if he's on the outskirts of town in the Thomas Kinkade ghetto?)
I wonder if they've met yet? The four of them. Wouldn't it be weird if my bishop met my dad? I wonder what my bishop would say. I'm trying to picture it. Would he be like, "Hey, I know your daughter. I lived next door to her for 1o years. We used to coordinate Christmas lights and she served as the Relief Society President under me. She had a little hard time for a while, but no worries, I helped her through it."
I wonder if my dad would be like, "Really? So what is she like in real life?"
My friend Herman would probably say, "Well she's really crazy about sweet and sour chicken. Especially when I cooked it. And she picked a great guy. Her hub, he's been good for her. Very patient with all those holes you left in her soul."
And then Stan would probably say, "Alls I know of her is she gave me this magic quilt. And then she asked me to send her aloha to you." Then maybe he would hug my dad, and give him a lei.
As I laid there in that Thomas Kinkade moment, I felt comforted somehow. Maybe by the snow.
Or maybe by the impression I got that my lubbed ones are voting for me too.
And that they want me to step up (FINALLY) and take my place in the writing world.
Speaking of voting . . .
I hate to say it but things are kinda weird in the top 20. For instance, the guy in front of me, he just sits there, but if you get within 5 votes of him he can shoot up 150 votes in an hour. And then he'll just sit there again and I'll tick, tick, tick away at his votes until I'm close again and then BAM, off he goes. It's a tortoise and hare relationship we got going.
And WOW, Annie from New York just shot up over 300 votes in like 2 minutes. One minute she wasn't in the top 20 and the next minute she was number 15. HOLY COW! Maybe she's got the x-factor instead of me.
But I guess alls fair in lub and war. And blogging contests.
So they say.
And they usually gets the last word. (Along with anonymous).
Unless I can help it! I'm back at #20, but there's still two weeks to go, so let's pray slow and steady really does win the race.
As the Robinsons would say, let's keep moving forward. Tally ho~
(Was that the appropriate usage of tally ho?)
(Just googled it and yes, it's what the Brits say when they see a fox while hunting.)
(p.s. I hope I make it because I am pumped about the video.)
(p.s. s. I still haven't passed cleavage lady. But only 20 votes away.)
(p.s.s.s All my doctor tests came back normal. My hub read the results and said I'm in perfect health and that everything looks fantastic.)
(Do you think he's just saying that so I will live longer in order to finish raising his kids?)
Good Mood Gig from SAM-e