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I'm up, I've had coffee, but my brain is still reluctantly waking. If I can string a few sentences together that match, I'll consider this post a success. If it makes a modicum of sense, even better.
The dream I was having, just before I woke up, is still haunting me. It wasn't a poignant dream or an unsettling dream but, nonetheless, it's following me around like a vapor. Pathetic as it is, I'm still irritated with the people in the dream even though I realize it was a dream and the people featured in it weren't really acting this way.
In a nutshell: I dreamed I offered to take Savagefuzzball and my 'honorary' daughter, Mingo*, to the beach the day after school ended. The next morning I wake (in the dream) to find that there are about twenty kids going to the beach, now. Clearly, I can't fit them all in my vehicle. Clearly, I'm not going to be able to keep an eye on them all so I'm stressing about being "the adult in charge" and not having the capacity to meet this responsibility. Then, an older boy from the school comes up to me and says, as if to reassure me he's helping bear part of the burden, "Mingo is going to go in my car". No offense to my lovely honorary daughter because she's a sweetie-pie and any boy would be lucky to spend time with her but this boy was NOT interested in Mingo as a person; this was all a ruse to get her alone. I said, "Uh-uh, her parents would not approve of her going in a car, alone, with a boy they didn't know well". "We won't be alone," he assures me, "_________ will be with us". Well, the boy's name he mentions has the reputation of being a notorious rake at their school (I know, I know - 'rake' is an old-fashioned word but it's so applicable I had to use it!). Basically, these boys were going to try a 'double-team' seduction on my sweet, innocent Mingo! So, I'm telling this boy "I don't think so" and he's arguing with me as if it's open for debate. Gah! At this same time, the rest of the kids are showing up and I'm wondering "What the hell are these parents thinking? Do they know that it's just me going and they can't, possibly, all fit in my vehicle? (This is not unlike how I feel in real life, at times, when it comes to SFB's friends and their parents. Many times the parents have never met us and just drop them off without getting a phone number -in case of emergency - or finding out what the plans are, exactly. I'm constantly amazed by this)
I think my story jumped the nutshell stage and went into "full-out gasbag mode". Sorry.
Anyway, I can't shrug the shawl of this dream. It's as if the dream is real and I want to find these kids/parents and ask them "What were you thinking?!".
*Mingo isn't her real name. I dubbed her that, years ago, when she was shooting up during puberty and was all long, bony limbs. Her legs, especially! I often wondered how they supported her without snapping; they were so fragile looking. Mingo is short for Flamingo.
Yesterday, as some of you know, was America's "Father's Day". Savagefuzzball and I took MrBug to the restaurant of his choice for an early dinner. He chose Joe's Crab Shack down at the Riverfront in the city. It was unseasonably chilly so when they asked if we'd like to be seated outside I hoped MrBug would say 'no' (he did, thank God). MrBug is like a walking furnace. It could be winter and he'd sit there with snow falling in his food and be perfectly comfortable. I, on the other hand, need mittens and a ski mask when the temperature falls below 70F.
We were seated, inside, but I still left with hands and feet that felt like icicles. Some genius in management, at the restaurant, came to this conclusion: It's June so, despite the fact that it's about 72F degrees, overcast, with a constant wind which is dropping the temperature by about 4 degrees, let's put on the air-conditioner and the paddle fans, overhead.
The restaurant is awash in flickering, multi-colored lights - not from overhead but from the tables. Their 'over-priced indulgence du jour' was plastic drink glasses with strobing lights built in to the bottom. You buy the ridiculously over-priced drink and get to keep the glass. Yes, we all ordered one, even I who experience a mild (and probably imagined) reaction to flashing lights (they make me feel slightly 'uncomfortable' and, after a while, mildly nauseated). I drank mine with the lights turned off.
I don't like sea food but the restaurant does, thankfully, serve a few things that didn't crawl or swim around the ocean prior to being fried/steamed/baked. We stuffed ourselves and then shared an obscenely huge slice of chocolate cake. Home, we waddled, to flop across the bed in the master bedroom and fall asleep, MrBug and I with Savagefuzzball in between.
Did I mention that the meal at the restaurant was our first meal of the day? We're all rather slow to get an appetite in the mornings. So, by the time we got up, got ourselves motivated, showered, dressed, etc. and out the door, we were eating breakfast at 2:30 p.m. I suppose having a rum drink with 'breakfast' would make anyone a little tired....
MrBug and Savagefuzzball roused themselves at about 5:30 p.m., kissed me goodbye and headed off to go see Batman Begins. MrBug has been eagerly awaiting this movie and watching every clip he can find, on the internet. Savagefuzzball knew it would be a welcome Father's Day gift to pre-buy the tickets and give them to him, in a card.
They went and I was left on my own to do whatever I wanted. I was hoping to be motivated to work on the bookcrossing postcards a bit more but that wasn't the case. Second in line to the postcards would have been working on the scarf for my niece's birthday but that didn't appeal, either. I went downstairs and got the Lemoncino concoction out of the basement where it'd been brewing, in the dark, and brought it upstairs, cooked up the water/sugar solution and then mixed it with the alcohol. That done, I funneled it into bottles, washed up the sticky mess and put the bottles into the freezer. I snacked a little and went upstairs to watch mindless television: 100 top child stars on Vh1. While I watched this (lounging in bed) I sketched a little, trying to get perspective on a couple of postcard ideas but my Muse was either still slumbering or had just buggered off and left me alone. The sketches stunk.
When MrBug and SFB got home, MrBug and I took a handful of the (strained off) lemon zest that I'd had steeping in the grain alcohol and lit it on fire. A friend of ours had done this in his driveway after making his own batch of Lemoncino and said he was surprised at how long it burned. I had expected the zest to light up and then burn long and slow like a coal (I don't know why) but instead it flashed up burned intensely for a fairly long time and then died to nothing. I still have the rest of this leeched zest (from 8 lemons) in the hermetically sealed jar. I should just throw it out but a large part (a large, childish and pyromanical part) of me wants to make a pile in the driveway and light the whole thing up at once.
No addition update. MrBug was forbidden from working, yesterday.
If I write anything else it would just be a stalling tactic. I need to go exercise and shower before it gets much later and I decide to 'blow off' the exercise part. Plus, SFB is on the phone making plans to go to someone's house which means I have to look presentable enough to leave the house. Pajamas, furry teeth and Medusa hair just aren't going to cut it.
The dream I was having, just before I woke up, is still haunting me. It wasn't a poignant dream or an unsettling dream but, nonetheless, it's following me around like a vapor. Pathetic as it is, I'm still irritated with the people in the dream even though I realize it was a dream and the people featured in it weren't really acting this way.
In a nutshell: I dreamed I offered to take Savagefuzzball and my 'honorary' daughter, Mingo*, to the beach the day after school ended. The next morning I wake (in the dream) to find that there are about twenty kids going to the beach, now. Clearly, I can't fit them all in my vehicle. Clearly, I'm not going to be able to keep an eye on them all so I'm stressing about being "the adult in charge" and not having the capacity to meet this responsibility. Then, an older boy from the school comes up to me and says, as if to reassure me he's helping bear part of the burden, "Mingo is going to go in my car". No offense to my lovely honorary daughter because she's a sweetie-pie and any boy would be lucky to spend time with her but this boy was NOT interested in Mingo as a person; this was all a ruse to get her alone. I said, "Uh-uh, her parents would not approve of her going in a car, alone, with a boy they didn't know well". "We won't be alone," he assures me, "_________ will be with us". Well, the boy's name he mentions has the reputation of being a notorious rake at their school (I know, I know - 'rake' is an old-fashioned word but it's so applicable I had to use it!). Basically, these boys were going to try a 'double-team' seduction on my sweet, innocent Mingo! So, I'm telling this boy "I don't think so" and he's arguing with me as if it's open for debate. Gah! At this same time, the rest of the kids are showing up and I'm wondering "What the hell are these parents thinking? Do they know that it's just me going and they can't, possibly, all fit in my vehicle? (This is not unlike how I feel in real life, at times, when it comes to SFB's friends and their parents. Many times the parents have never met us and just drop them off without getting a phone number -in case of emergency - or finding out what the plans are, exactly. I'm constantly amazed by this)
I think my story jumped the nutshell stage and went into "full-out gasbag mode". Sorry.
Anyway, I can't shrug the shawl of this dream. It's as if the dream is real and I want to find these kids/parents and ask them "What were you thinking?!".
*Mingo isn't her real name. I dubbed her that, years ago, when she was shooting up during puberty and was all long, bony limbs. Her legs, especially! I often wondered how they supported her without snapping; they were so fragile looking. Mingo is short for Flamingo.
Yesterday, as some of you know, was America's "Father's Day". Savagefuzzball and I took MrBug to the restaurant of his choice for an early dinner. He chose Joe's Crab Shack down at the Riverfront in the city. It was unseasonably chilly so when they asked if we'd like to be seated outside I hoped MrBug would say 'no' (he did, thank God). MrBug is like a walking furnace. It could be winter and he'd sit there with snow falling in his food and be perfectly comfortable. I, on the other hand, need mittens and a ski mask when the temperature falls below 70F.
We were seated, inside, but I still left with hands and feet that felt like icicles. Some genius in management, at the restaurant, came to this conclusion: It's June so, despite the fact that it's about 72F degrees, overcast, with a constant wind which is dropping the temperature by about 4 degrees, let's put on the air-conditioner and the paddle fans, overhead.
The restaurant is awash in flickering, multi-colored lights - not from overhead but from the tables. Their 'over-priced indulgence du jour' was plastic drink glasses with strobing lights built in to the bottom. You buy the ridiculously over-priced drink and get to keep the glass. Yes, we all ordered one, even I who experience a mild (and probably imagined) reaction to flashing lights (they make me feel slightly 'uncomfortable' and, after a while, mildly nauseated). I drank mine with the lights turned off.
I don't like sea food but the restaurant does, thankfully, serve a few things that didn't crawl or swim around the ocean prior to being fried/steamed/baked. We stuffed ourselves and then shared an obscenely huge slice of chocolate cake. Home, we waddled, to flop across the bed in the master bedroom and fall asleep, MrBug and I with Savagefuzzball in between.
Did I mention that the meal at the restaurant was our first meal of the day? We're all rather slow to get an appetite in the mornings. So, by the time we got up, got ourselves motivated, showered, dressed, etc. and out the door, we were eating breakfast at 2:30 p.m. I suppose having a rum drink with 'breakfast' would make anyone a little tired....
MrBug and Savagefuzzball roused themselves at about 5:30 p.m., kissed me goodbye and headed off to go see Batman Begins. MrBug has been eagerly awaiting this movie and watching every clip he can find, on the internet. Savagefuzzball knew it would be a welcome Father's Day gift to pre-buy the tickets and give them to him, in a card.
They went and I was left on my own to do whatever I wanted. I was hoping to be motivated to work on the bookcrossing postcards a bit more but that wasn't the case. Second in line to the postcards would have been working on the scarf for my niece's birthday but that didn't appeal, either. I went downstairs and got the Lemoncino concoction out of the basement where it'd been brewing, in the dark, and brought it upstairs, cooked up the water/sugar solution and then mixed it with the alcohol. That done, I funneled it into bottles, washed up the sticky mess and put the bottles into the freezer. I snacked a little and went upstairs to watch mindless television: 100 top child stars on Vh1. While I watched this (lounging in bed) I sketched a little, trying to get perspective on a couple of postcard ideas but my Muse was either still slumbering or had just buggered off and left me alone. The sketches stunk.
When MrBug and SFB got home, MrBug and I took a handful of the (strained off) lemon zest that I'd had steeping in the grain alcohol and lit it on fire. A friend of ours had done this in his driveway after making his own batch of Lemoncino and said he was surprised at how long it burned. I had expected the zest to light up and then burn long and slow like a coal (I don't know why) but instead it flashed up burned intensely for a fairly long time and then died to nothing. I still have the rest of this leeched zest (from 8 lemons) in the hermetically sealed jar. I should just throw it out but a large part (a large, childish and pyromanical part) of me wants to make a pile in the driveway and light the whole thing up at once.
No addition update. MrBug was forbidden from working, yesterday.
If I write anything else it would just be a stalling tactic. I need to go exercise and shower before it gets much later and I decide to 'blow off' the exercise part. Plus, SFB is on the phone making plans to go to someone's house which means I have to look presentable enough to leave the house. Pajamas, furry teeth and Medusa hair just aren't going to cut it.
no subject
Confessions: I watched part of this the other day when MrBish was gone.
Further confessions: I thoroughly enjoyed myself! ;)
Is it just me or is "Peter Brady" (I already forget his real name)
Re: Is it just me or is "Peter Brady" (I already forget his real name)
I thought Greg looked OLD! But I suppose he was not that young when he was doing The Brady Bunch either.
Can I just tell you
"I think my story jumped the nutshell stage and went into "full-out gasbag mode". Sorry."
Also - the flashy light thing. Mee tooo. Do you ever get migraines?
As long as we don't have to share a kidney or anything...
I don't get migraines but when we pass the airport and the landing lights are flashing to beat the band, I have to close my eyes. It feels like I need to open my head and scratch my brain.
no subject
I had planned to use the clipart from some of my graphics programs, but it occurs to me that it says it is not for use in profit making ventures. So, I'm sort of stumped. I miss my college roomie, the art major. If I needed something drawn, (and in el ed classes, you always need a picture of something) I sat down with her, told her what I envisioned, and she drew it. I'd say, no, that should be bigger, put that here, etc. She had the patience of a saint! ;-) Nanci, where are you?