I was walking through our kitchen yesterday morning when I noticed that Mr. Sun was having some fun, playing games in our house with his friends The Shadows. I pulled my camera from my pocket, thinking: If these guys are going to play here, I can certainly take a few pictures.
There was an empty dog bowl on the floor. I liked the way the blue bottom of the bowl added an amazing dash of color to the otherwise monochromatic scene. I also noticed that the shadows in the bowl looked a bit like the Yin-Yang symbol. (Do you suppose Sun and Shadows were just goofing around, or was there a message here?) The day began to get weird.
Leah and I rarely argue or bicker--our relationship, happily, lacks even the slightest hint of tension or acrimony. Yesterday, however, we found ourselves picking at one-another.
I wanted to spend the day doing one thing, Leah wanted to do another.
Eventually we decided we’d go to Bainbridge Island and do a long walk together, but we couldn’t agree on which roads were best for getting there.
We began our walk and I wanted to go one pace, Leah wanted to go another.
I saw a fence and a sailboat that I wanted to photograph; Leah gave me a look that let it be known that I’d better shoot fast, she wanted to keep moving.
We walked for three hours. By the end of the day, the bad juju seemed to have passed. We went out for dinner--both agreeing on the choice of restaurant. When we ordered our meals, we both chose the chicken enchiladas.
I don’t know much about Yin and Yang, but this morning I did some reading. I learned that Yin and Yang are ancient Chinese symbols that represent opposites in the universe: black/white, hot/cold, aggression/passivity, man/woman. I guess there's supposed to be a balance in Yin and Yang, though I personally would be happy if balance wasn't quite so elusive.
I’ve decided to blame Mr. Sun for the introduction of angst into our relationship yesterday. Next time he starts making shadows in the dog bowl, I’m going to close the curtains.
