The Flying Snail

As I once said, "I am a snail on a highway," I now believe I am the snail's much slower cousin with a bad case of The Humdrums. The Humdrums is a chronic condition that makes a snail believe it is much slower than it actually is, hence the place on the hypothetical highway, so to speak.

I have had a productive week and I got to see the Foo Fighters in concert, which was a colorful highlight of the week. A streak across a foggy window. I do have The Humdrums, remember? :-)

All right, all right. This needs further explanation. Lately I've been looking at a pond as if it's a ocean and flapping my fins miserably when I reach the shore no matter in which direction I swim. I have a humongous, fantastic, wildly imaginative dream that sometimes takes up as much of my brain as I can use. I squeeze my eyes really tight and click my bare feet together three times and whisper, "Please someday come true."

How does it come true, though? How do I graduate from a pond to an ocean? When do my fins morph into wings so I can set sail across the world and find my ocean?

I swim in my despair. In my dreams I fly.

One day at a time, hour by hour I work and I wait. And I pray.

What a funny looking snail I must be. Snaily discharge to travel to fins to wings. Maybe all at once.