Mornings

I am not a morning person.  I start off slow, but by the end of the day, the engine's really going.  There's a lady in my neighborhood who defies all of my instincts for typical human morning behavior.  Every so often while driving the busy thoroughfare through my town on the way to work, I see her.  She runs...but not just runs...she goes totally nuts.  She's maybe in her late 40's, skinny and wiry and clearly doesn't give a hoot what anyone thinks of her.  If I see her, I smile - sometimes against my will.  She dance-runs, cutting through the air in front of her with wild arm gestures as if she were an aboriginal dancing around a raging ceremonial fire.  She'll weave some Michael Jackson Thriller moves into wild jazz hands and then throws you off guard by  switching directions for a few beats and just hops up and down like a Maasai tribeswoman.  It's flabbergasting to watch her.

I think she's singularly cool because this particular road is teeming with work-bound drones in the mornings (including me sometimes, ha ha).  Sleek tin can driving, coffee-clutching, predictably cynical adults on their way to jobs they have to do. Ladies in BMW's wearing pressed business suits who have their faces starched into the right configurations wiz by her as she unapologetically leaps through the air and shakes her bony frame.  This lady always reminds me that there are no restrictions on limitless variation in our universe.  I don't think my illustration does her justice, but it gives some idea of this woman's theatrics.