Saturday, December 02, 2006

Sealing Wax And Other Fancy Stuff

My apartment is a bit of a mess, but a glamorous, gleaming, incense-perfumed mess, and tomorrow I get a chance to clean it. This idea excites me. Being fabulous isn't all chinups and refusing to return phone calls. Sometimes, a diva's got to tidy up the cat box.

Horoscopically speaking, today I will not achieve my dreams as I will be tied down to domestic responsibilities. I am amused by the notion in my vast old age because where once I dreamed of being the first Poet Laureate to wear Pennzoil on her warmups, I now dream of paid bills and clean carpets. Sort of. This morning, I dreamed I was watching young girls do tumbling runs across a mat. That is not an unusual dream for me. Girl after tiny girl, round off, back handspring, some form of somersault. What was different was this time I was lying in rafters overhead, unsteady and sometimes slipping. The second time a girl made eye contact with me in mid-somersault I almost fell out of the rafters and dropped the TV camera. I was way up. Then I was the last girl in line, and the girl in front of me grabbed my shoulder, "We're not having any more of this shit." Round off, handspring, twisting somersault. Then it was my turn.

I woke up thinking How long would I have to warm up before I did that? Short answer: forever! A few years ago, a woman who managed a gym and still practiced told me age was no longer a barrier in gymnastics. I could join a group that did power tumbling, she said. I asked if they took people on the verge of needing walkers.

Sure, I miss the sensation of flying. I do not miss the sensation of landing on my head, which I felt was highly overrated. In contrast, my dreams of a clean kitchen floor and fresh bread I baked myself seem achievable and even plausible. If I will achieve them, that remains to be seen.


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