Hugging it out.

Today I embrace absurdity. I have a fondness for it in general, but today I'm taking the time to give it a big, fat hug. Maybe it was the aerobics class on trampolines in the courtyard outside of my office that got me thinking. (Just as you'd imagine, there were more spectators than participants.) Or the interpretive dance I stumbled upon on my walk home. I remember that book, Wacky Wednesday. You know the one? I loved the concept then and still think about other clever alliterations that would express similar sentiment for the especially peculiar other days of the week. (Trippy Tuesday, Far out Friday...) I've spent more time on that exercise than I have ironing clothes. Ever.

Absurdity makes me smile, laugh and sometimes roar from my belly with contagious bursts of appreciation. It has been known to incite singtalking, too. Seeing it brings me joy and being a part of it is even more fun. I get to laugh all the way--and share the story (with grand, overly dramatic gestures and timing) with friends to bring that absurdity to their doorstep.

Many of you know how much I like to share the strange. Remember the summer before last when I couldn't stop eating bugs? While running, driving or sitting at stop lights, they just found a way into my mouth and quickly to the back of my throat--where their fate was sealed (swallowed?). Or the accounts where I awkwardly find myself in well-lit circumstances wearing clothing that was somehow lacking opacity? Absurd stories are the best. Mostly because the meaning is in what they are: The celebration of ridiculousness.

Let's do that more.

A friend, and fellow freak sent me this photo today (above): A "picture that personifies his future self." He and I have the best conversations about nothing and everything. Ever think about how weird you'll be as you age? He aptly said that a "penchant for oddity ages like a fine wine". Will you be a full-bodied french or a spicy rioja?

I urge you to stop and give absurdity a nice, long this-might-be-too-intimate-for-how-well-we-know-each-other kind of a hug and say hello. Again.