Insert Toe in Water

My first post to an adoring public and I'm as nervous as a bride who's about to marry the guy she met on the rebound. (Yep, I've done that.)

Today was lovely. I dropped the wonderchild at his preschool and toddled over to the local posh grocery, leisurely trolling for bargain berries (organic of course!), lugged the overpriced load home and stuffed same into antique (OK, late '80s) fridge that leaves puddles all over the not-so-charmingly cracked vinyl flooring. {Why are some things charming and antique and others merely ugly and old? The others were never nice to begin with.}

I guess I like not working. Unemployment seems to suit me. Or is it just Not Enough Prozac?

In the afternoon I took the wonderchild to a little park near the house. He made woodchip ice cream and then we spent a nice half hour befriending a periodical cicada who, judging by its slow motions, was nearing the end of its brief span above ground. The great mating ritual seems to be over and the passionate mass drumming in the trees has faded to a mere background thrum.

I thought how fascinating it might be to just sit and observe the behavior of this creature. Then, a flash -- entomologist manquee!? I bet I'd last at least a day or two.

Truth is, I don't seem to have abiding passion for anything. I envy those with a life's passion but sometimes wonder if they ever allow themselves to digress long enough to pal around with a dying insect.

I do see things, even if I do nothing about any of it.

A misspent life? You be the judge.