TASMANIAN HONEY

Holy Toledo! The sky doesn't look like this today! Well, I did see some blue for a bit after a day of rain.

A couple of quick things here as it is getting on to 8:00.

As the faithful among you know, I am quite intent on changing my state of being and to that end I have sought the help of two different schools of counseling, one traditional and one not so much. The not-so-much professors have me drinking a cup of hot water and honey each morning to remind myself to be sweet and nuturing to myself. Plus, I have kind of gotten used to it.

I used up the first jar of honey that I pulled out of the cupboard. (I have several jars, don't you?) Still on the shelf were a regular supermarket kind and a fancy Tasmanian honey that had been given to me as a gift three years ago and had barely been open.

So when it was time for a new jar yesterday, did I reach for the good stuff? No, I started using the lesser. It was not as tasty as the first. This morning, I realized that I often "save" the good stuff. What am I "saving" honey for? (Let's just set aside the catastrophic bee problem that might make hoarding honey a good idea in the post-apocalyptic world.) I do that: deny myself things and save them for ... what? (Unfortunately, this did not spill over into the world of finance.) I opened the Tasmanian honey this morning and began to use it. Tastes lots better.

Not to hammer him, but this was another behavior inherited from my father. He always discouraged us from driving, not because he was an early environmentalist, but to save wear and tear on the car. I'm sure there are other examples of this kind of ... parsimony? deferred gratification for an unknown event or rainy day or ??? This needs to be pursued further. What am I keeping from myself and myself from? What else can I avail myself of?

And then there was a long dream, (and I am sleeping more deeply for those keeping score, but I still wake up somewhat panicked), that had to do with going to a resort out in a California oak scrub kind of landscape. I had a white Porsche (my father had a Porsche, not white and this one was a later model). For some reason, I had a bunch of my down bedding in the car. As I was having some trouble driving, reaching the pedals, but I was managing. Then I was driving really fast and the bedding started whipping around the car, very much obscuring my vision. I did not slow down. I drove while wrestling with the bedding (more dangerous than texting, I am pretty sure) which was wrapped around my head. I vanquished one comforter (white with yellow roses) only to be assaulted by sheets.

I did manage to park at the inn, get settled in, only to find myself in the Porsche again with my mother and another old friend, in two way, Dolly is about 84 herself, driving to Palm Springs, and again, driving very fast with the sheets and comforter flying around and blinding me.

What do we make of that?