Bubbles

I went to a wedding celebration a couple of weeks ago. The daughter of one of my oldest and closest friends ran off and got married back in October, and the celebration was like a reception. After everyone had gone, I was helping them clean up the old train station where the party was held. They had all of this stuff they were going to throw away and the pack rat in me just couldn't stand it!! I now have ten or more votive candleholders, two bags full of decorative fall gourds, a whole bag full of plastic leaves in fall colors, and ten or more little bottles of bubble soap.

I went out in the yard on Sunday and blew bubbles all over the yard for a half hour or so. It was so cool. It was like being a little kid again! I found myself trying to work on my bubble-blowing technique to get longer or bigger bubbles. And Pete-the-crippled-cat and I found a new game to play. "Catch the bubble" before it disappears. Pete was quite fascintated with the game for awhile, then I think he actually got down right p-0'd because the bubbles kept disappearing. He'd dig in the grass where the bubble had been then look at me with a very intense, if-looks-could-kill kind of glare, accusing me of taking the bubble from him! It was a lot of fun, for me anyway. Like I said, it was like being a kid again. Playing in the yard, talking to the cat or the dog or just myself, depending on who felt like listening. Humming little songs. Pretending I was in a big bubble-blowing contest and one of the finalists.

Do it sometime. Venture back. I don't think it's so much regression as is it a half hour of freedom from adulthood and all its miseries. Ah, what a joy! Thirty minutes of childhood-revisited, the biggest pressure being trying to make the bubble soap last. I have ten or more little bottles. Enough to last a long time. THAT makes me smile!

Ciao!