There's this speech I make. It's a post on here somewhere, I'm pretty sure. Involves the day you're laying in the nursing home, drooling all over yourself and staring at the ceiling. Counting the dots in the Celotex.
If that day ever comes? I don't want to be laying there regretting things. I don't want to be thinking, "Damn. I never bought a red car." (I haven't but...I don't want one. That's not the point ;) "Damn...I never made it to Ireland." (I will.) "Damn. I wish I'd spent more time with my kids." (I do.)
The arts festival City Girl and I have helped at was this weekend, and after a couple years lay-off, I was there. Late Saturday afternoon, after the manual labor for the Saturday night party was done, I took a quick turn through the park. All SORTS of amazing stuff...everything from pastels, acrylics, folk work, metalwork, jewelry to woodwork to pottery to...you get the picture. There's a piece of pottery in the gallery I'm going to buy this afternoon if it's still there ;)
There was also...yard art. Now, I know this is a touchy subject for some, and I've never really HAD any yard art but...sometimes, things change. A couple of years ago I gave up on tilling up a patch in the back yard and planting a garden. The back yard is the side of a hill...it slopes. And unless you've ever man-handled a tiller across a slope? You have NO idea.
So I embraced something a friend calls "guerilla gardening." Planting herbs, vegetables and edibles in and amongst your landscaping. From there, I fell in love with the metal obelisk things...the pyramids made from rebar with old finials on top. Tomato cages ;)
And Saturday, on my quick stroll, I literally laughed out loud. (Problem with having kids at 44 is that not ONLY did I spend Sunday explaining Purple Rain, but they didn't even know who Prince IS.) There, on a five foot piece of rebar, a pig was flying.
Came home, nursed my aching muscles with ibuprofen washed down with bourbon, and laughed about the pig. Flying. It apparently, is time. For pigs to fly. Ed McMahan hasn't shown up yet.
From there? Oh. My.
Sunday I took some and all of the kids and their friends to the festival. We wandered around. Ate lunch. Wandered around some more. I kept laughing about the pig. (An aside here...it's a small propane tank, I think. With metal wings, nuts for eyes and rebar legs. EIGHTY DOLLARS.) I laughed every time we passed. Sent some people to see it. Explained to the kids..."when pigs fly..." Don't know if they got it or not.
And then, toward the end of the afternoon, I thought, "You know? I could get hit by a truck crossing Seminary Street this afternoon and there I'd be. Bleeding out in the middle of the street. Staring at the sky thinking, 'Damn. I never bought a flying pig'."
So I did.
And they do ;)