The Post with all the Wisdom and Insight

I envy those blogs that impart cutting edge, important, frank wisdom. Sometimes I want to be the person who makes a statement, and then people pass it along, saying things like, "A must-read post for anyone who's ever felt afraid!" Or "Brodi Ashton weighs in with the final say on the latest brouhaha over the bangs-or-no-bangs controversy" Or something like that. 

So, writer peeps, let's have an important discussion. Below, I have three essential topics on which I have insight... on... for them (okay, that sentence totally got away from me. It happens when I'm trying to be insightful).

1. I keep having this recurring dream that one of my legs is shorter than the other. Like, a foot shorter. Then I try to walk like a typical person, and I look strange. And all the while I'm thinking, how did this happen?

And then I remember something one of my childhood friend's mother told us: "If you keep standing like that, with more weight on one of your legs, and your hip sticking out like your a hussy, it will stunt that leg's growth."

And then, in my dream-self-brain, I think, Ohmyheck, she was right!

So, dream interpreters, what does this mean?

2. Last night, as I was falling asleep, I was brainstorming ideas for my Everneath 2 revision when an epiphany hit. The only problem was, I was too tired to write it down. (Writing it down would've involved rolling over to my nightstand, grabbing the notebook there and making a few notes.)
So I thought of a key-word for the idea: "Patchwork". 

I ingrained the keyword in my head. "Patchwork, patchwork, patchwork... remember patchwork."

And then, for a test, I'd let my brain relax for a few moments, and then I'd be all, "What's the word, Brain?!"

And I'd answer myself, "Patchwork!"

This morning I woke up, and the first thing that popped into my head was, "Patchwork."

Only now, I can't remember the associating idea. The epiphany. It's gone. Lost in a NyQuill haze.

So, writer peeps, what did Patchwork mean?

3. While I was driving down the street, I saw an old man jogging. He was wearing a white v-neck shirt, and the low point of the "V" reached almost to his bellybutton. And yes, there was chest hair. And bellybutton hair. 

When he caught me looking, he nodded, as if to say, "I know. Can you believe how much I rock this look?"

And then he winked. As if to say, "You're welcome."

I mouthed the words "Thank you."

So, yon Bloggerville, how much do you love bellybutton hair?