a little prince

I really wanted ice cream this evening, but since I didn't have any, I made popcorn balls because they're easy and quick, and while I was stirring all the sticky into the popcorn, it hit me- popcorn ice cream. Like, grind up plain air popped popcorn in a food processor and stir it into a plain vanilla ice cream recipe before you put it into the churner on ice. Maybe add a little butter flavoring, and if it's popcorn ball flavored, add a big dollop or marshmallow creme.

And then, of course, I put popcorn ice cream into search and found out it's already a thing. Click this to check out a recipe I found.

Scott says a big NO on that, but I bet if I ground some up and did it my way, he'd like it. Not in a hurry to test that, though.

Also while I was making popcorn balls, The Little Prince popped into my mind. I first brought it up in a very sideways way in August 2015, then briefly alluded to it the next year during a minecraft blurb in April 2016.

I wasn't at all cognizant of the timing back then. Just like this next one, the timing still wasn't hitting me in March 2020. 

I was a fox enticed out of a wheat field. Then I was a pet dumped on a highway. After that I grew into a feral shadow haunting the dark. And now I'm sitting out in the open, thinking about when I was a fox in a field.

Somewhere I've also written about the day I watched The Little Prince with Gene Wilder in it and how I cried.

So this theme is obviously tied into my mourning for my friend, and I identify with a feral animal that can be enticed out to be friends, but then must be left behind, right. But I wasn't thinking about all this during the popcorn.

What hit me during the popcorn was an idea that had been forming for awhile that since the book is written from the pilot's point of view, and since he was likely delirious at some point while he was sitting in the desert, he was visited, as I was one year during an emotional breakdown, by a child he'd lost, perhaps as an infant, and in his vision he was able to see and talk to the boy that infant would have grown into. The rose under glass that the boy loved so dearly would be the mom who lost the baby, seen through the child's eyes in the pilot's delirium.

I can see it this way since I lost a baby and many years later spent a week talking to my son as if he'd never been lost all this time.

I think I've been smooshing several mournings together, since they happened around the same time of year. My friend was murdered in April, my baby was taken in May, my mom's birthday is in June. So there is another chunk of puzzle figured out about why everything from April through June becomes very mixed up from all the dissociating and displacing and stuff.

This must be the year I finally click the pieces into place.

Anyway, given some of my weird sleep disturbances and nightmares showing back up last few days, Scott agrees with me that maybe doing 2-3 days of a little bit of xanax in the evening would be wise. He's been noticing something's up and hasn't wanted to leave me alone. I think once I get through the 5th and 6th I'll be ok.