"I dreamt I fed a donkey an apple core.” Andrea announced upon waking this morning. Later, after I had coffee, I look up the dream interpretation on this only to learn that dreaming of feeding a donkey indicates that you “want others to do whatever they are told.” I chuckle and offer this as proof of bossiness. This afternoon, while driving to Hatfield, Massachusetts, Andrea announces, “You know....I think there are two kinds of wives.” I laugh and mutter, “This is going to be good.” While glancing at the GPS from the passenger seat. “Don’t start taking notes.” Andrea says. Translation... do not write about this. Ohhhhh okay. Fine. You know those Russian Nesting Dolls? Matryoshka dolls - in Russia , the word matryoshka literally means "little matron". The Latin root word of Matryoshka is mater, which means "mother." The Matryoshka doll is a symbol of the Russian babushka, a strong female matriarch and a central figure in the Russian family. I think of these dolls as symbolic to how we see people. We see their outside and we don’t always know what is going on inside. I do like the symbolism of the Matryoshka as a strong female. Earlier this week, we ate Chinese food and Andrea’s fortune advised her to keep her secrets. Everyone one has them - one inside another inside another. The reason we were driving to Hatfield was to pick up a Maine Coon kitten from Oldestage Maine Coon Cattery. I think cattery is a ridiculous term that makes me think of cat house (as in brothel). I’ve always wanted a Maine Coon because I hear they are friendly and cuddly. I began looking for another boy cat after Elliot died. Yes - we have sisters Lola and Dexy but I was convinced they would die minutes apart someday like those long married spouses you read about. I also recently read an article about a dog who died within minutes of his owner. But now, I’m not so sure it’s true given Dexy’s opportunistic ways. Guess I should have talked to the pet psychic before placing a non-refundable deposit on this guy...
The above photo was taken at the brothel. Right now, he’s hiding under the futon in a spare room. “Bad news. I think my arm’s stuck.” Andrea said, having slid her arm through the wooden slats at the back of the futon frame. I stand up and laugh while trying to assemble a concerned face, “Does it hurt?” “It doesn’t feel great.” Andrea says. She finally manages to free her arm. We both lie on the floor, trying to coax the kitten out with toys. “Cats are douches.” Andrea says. “This is why dogs are better.” So there it is. One Matryoshka. A kitten. A smaller Matryoshka inside another. There’s another inside of the one that has been revealed.
What Matryoshka’s are you carrying inside of you?