Took the kids to a local hole-in-the-wall non-buffet Chinese restaurant here in town, our first visit. I was impressed how my son, now 12, first ordered off the menu, then ate what was brought. "Kung Po Chicken." Using chopsticks, he even sampled individual components he didn't recognize. A giant leap forward. And we mused at how chillingly accurate each of our Chinese zodiac descriptions were. Before you knew it an hour had passed and it was time for the check and for fortune cookies. Mine was the Oscar Wilde quote, "Discontent is the first step in the progress of a man or a nation."
There are those who see discontentment as something to be avoided at all costs, and those who view it as a prophetic gift from the Almighty himself. This initially confused me because while my situation now - working from home full time thus greatly increasing my time with the kids - is progress from where I was, I wasn't discontent prior to the change. Then I remembered; my wife was. We had made so many trips back and forth - and at that time I was being courted by a local aerospace company - and there was still family here for her to care for, she thought it might be more advantageous to live here and travel to Texas for a change.
She was right. Thus proving once again discontentment prompts progress.
I need new tires for my car. I've been putting this off for some time, but I'm having it done next week due to my trip to Texas over Spring Break. In my dream I'd parked my car at work and gone on a business trip. When I returned, it was late, and the parking lot was mostly deserted. It was also unpaved. I found my Tiburon behind a clump a bushes. Someone, presumably drax0r, had replaced my tires with MONSTER TRUCK tires! (The closest thing I could find even remotely similar.) I looked up my car, many feet off the ground, sitting on four huge tires, and thought it a sweet, if not misguided gesture. I managed to climb into the vehicle, and drive off. It did pretty well, but I couldn't seem to steer it in a straight line. I wondered it he had sold my rims in order to pay for the monstrosity.
Then I met a young lady who was the sister of one of the cousins who was attempting to open a preschool for students with learning disabilities, which had been blocked by the City Council. They were a blue-collar family, and one of the cousins had come into town to help restart the project after the other cousin was murdered. I'd been advocating for the building of the project and was just as shocked as the rest of the community over this heinous crime.
The cousin arrived with a vengeful heart, but soon realized the propagation of violence was a step in the wrong direction. We were odd bedfellows to be sure when we parted company, because I had been interrogated by him over the vilification that I was somehow responsible. All in a all a very awkward series of events, which was apparently not over. Somehow, my neighbors in Anna, TX were secretly funding the building project as something they also believed strongly in, and the cousin's sister had stayed behind to chase the paper trail.
I was lounging in a room with one of those Asian-themed onion paper articulated room dividers when she approached wearing a black crocheted top which concealed nothing. "I love you," she said to me. I replied that I loved her too, as I reached for her face, to pull her mouth to mine. After I kissed her I paused and told her, "My wife says I'm too free with that word. I don't know whether it means different things to different people, or if I really do contain within me an affinity for everyone I connect with."
Not knowing my wife was on the other side of the room divider she'd heard my kisses and left the room inflamed. I stroked the young lady's exposed midriff one last time then hurried after her, to explain how the depth of my love was in no way threatened by the casual love I felt for the cousin's sister, knowing full well when I woke up in real life, I would once again be blamed for the infidelity of my subconscious.
"It's my subconscious. Remember, I can't control it." ~ Dom Cobb, Inception