Every Monday night is my night to work at the library. We're open until 8:30, so it's pretty dark by the time we leave for the night. On this most recent Monday, it was also raining.
Miss Kitty, Culinary Genius and Children's Librarian Extraordinaire (who also has heated seats in her Honda), offered me a ride home. I'd not worn my raincoat, and she took the opportunity to remind me of one the perils of the Chick and I having no television: no Weather Channel.
"But you see," I told her, "I used to have a weather toe, so I always knew when rain was coming. It's not my fault my toe doesn't work anymore."
As you could imagine, this led to a discussion of my weather toe.
It was a toe I broke in 7th grade -- my big toe, in fact -- that got arthritis, which has, somehow over the years, inexplicably disappeared.
It is how I broke my toe, though, that led to the subject of this blog.
Miss Kitty said, "I really think this is a topic for the blog. Give that Rabbit a day off and tell them a little something more personal about yourself."
To which I responded, "Oh, Miss Kitty!! NO one wants that!"
But, here I am, doing it anyway.
One night at about the age of 13, I had a dream. In the dream, I'm in gym class or some such thing, and I'm involved in a rousing game of kickball. And I'm "up," as in, it's my turn to kick. If I close my eyes, I can still see the whole scene as it was-- the ball coming in a straight line toward home plate, me standing, anxiously waiting and getting ready for the ball to roll just close enough, and then WHAM!!
I kicked that ball so hard!! It was definitely going to be a home run!!
Except I didn't make it that far in my dream. I woke up screaming in pain having kicked my bedroom wall instead of the "ball." I had broken my big toe.
Oh, it was very painful. And very colorful. Sigh.
And that, dear friends, is how I broke my big toe and how I gained a trusted weather toe, until of course, it ceased to be a weather toe.
Now, it is simply a plain, old toe again.
When I got home, I told the Chick Miss Kitty's idea for me to write about my dream and her other idea for me to tell about my irrational fear of Chihuahuas. The Chick and I proceeded to make a list of my Top Ten Weirdest and /or most Interesting Dreams.
Over the next few weeks, I will share that list with you.
You will laugh.
You will cry.
They are better than Cats.
And, they are certainly NOT better than Rabbits.