James’s folks are in town, so we’re hangin’ out with them. And that’s cool. Yesterday we went to the botanical gardens, which were snazzy and cactusfilled, and I took a lot of photos.
Last night, as I was in the throes of sleep, James finally came to bed. “I dreamed about plants,” I told him groggily. “Were they Irish?” he asked. (We had Irish food for dinner.) “Nah,” I said, still most of the way asleep, “but even the jackrabbits had thorns.”
There was a pause. James said “Wow.” I woke up a bit more, tried to remember what the hell I’d been dreaming about to inspire such a bizarre phrase, lost it completely, and staggered out to the computer long enough to scrawl that down on a post-it note.
It’d make an interesting painting.
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