F is for Focus
The future is bright as can be as long as I stay in focus. It seems in the last few days I entirely forgot about checking my fortune cookies. I got it, I should be more focused, so I write myself notes and stuff them into fortune cookies. I can't wait to find out what's going to happen next every time I open a fortune cookie. It helps me focus.
Why? Because focus is how you observe. To stay focused on stuff is awesome. Flowers, fortune cookies, bunnies. You can always go to the opera.
Maybe I forgot all about spring at the opera.
I'll have to digress and focus for a moment; We were supposed to think spring. If 'ya don't think spring, it doesn't come.
I've been pretty distracted with the drama of the A to Z's. That's why it froze last night again. The muse said there was little skim of ice on the little pond again. You should have seen the stare I got. Enough to shrink a crocus.
You have to understand the necessity of that stern revelation. It was only yesterday we saw our first crocuses. Focus on this now, crocuses, tiny little green leaves, and little, tiny pinky-purple flowers. Very tiny. See? These ones. See how big the grass is?
 |
| Shrinky Crocuses |
Not only that, the ground was covered with jeweled frost crystals, all different colours, caused by the low angle of the sun focusing on the frost. I could not focus well enough to capture that beauty in the early sunlight. Too bad. You would have liked that.
One thing is certain, I forgot about spring, and I was out of focus, because I also discovered I forgot about Fudge cookies, too. That really proves it.
Those floppy little opera binoculars didn't focus on Figaro getting married in his striped tights very well, but they focused fine on an open bag of Fudge cookies being eaten by a pair of swooning matriarchs a few boxes over.
That's when they came into focus. Fudge cookies I mean. The number one delight of focused matriarchs watching Figaro's striped tights with steamed opera binoculars.
I knew what was wrong. I bought a ticket for Fiddler on the Roof.
Somehow I went to The Marriage of Figaro in Tights instead.
I was sitting in the balcony, wondering if anyone would mind if I upstaged Figaro by flopping over the edge and shouting:
'Focus!... Isn't this supposed to be Fiddler?"
Focus on that for a moment. Mozart did.
I better focus on crocus and wait for spring. I'll check my fortune cookie.
Is that incoming I hear?
The A to Z Blogger Challenge: http://www.a-to-zchallenge.com/
