Time as a dimension

Did you ever contemplate time as a dimension? Bear with me here because I do have a point. We take our physical world for granted, but try to imagine another dimension based on what you know about the difference between, say, 2 dimensions and 3. (Thank you Buckaroo Bonzai. It's all your fault.) When I travel a distance (in this case 912 miles) it makes yesterday seem longer ago than if I'd just stayed home. Time feels so full of stuff that it practically bulges.

Yesterday morning I was waking up in Wisconsin. Since then I packed my stuff, pulled rhubarb, and went to a wonderful funeral for my Great Uncle Clarence. He was 101. When you live to be 101, your funeral can be a celebration of a long life well lived with grief but not so much sadness. It's not hard for me to imagine that Clarence is holding Bernice's hand again just like they did for three quarters of a century.

Then I almost had lunch at The Blind Pig in Berlin (that's BURR lin, Wisconsin not like brr LIN, Germany), had a drive in the country, flew to Detroit, flew to Washington DC, got home at midnight, listened to 2 tapes of Garrison Keillor reading Lake Wobegone Days, unpacked my stuff, went to work, went to the dentist (sans Novacaine. He thinks I'm tough but I can put up with a lot if I remember to breathe and don't have to add hours of numbness to the list of strange feelings from having two people with fingers and tools and whatnot in my mouth.) And threaded through all that was knitting this hat for Caps for Kids:

It's what makes yesterday seem like long ago. Then it was just a green band. Oliver likes the hair. I'm pleased with how it came out (although I'm the only one in the house besides the cat) because I just knit along until it looked like what I wanted. I hope some free-thinking kid gets it and thinks it's groovy.