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Holy mother of pearl

It's been three freaking years since I posted in this blog. Even though no one reads it, that's pathetic. Frankly, I'd forgotten all about it until I saw a car in the grocery store parking lot with the license plate "RD2HANA".

I could have written volumes on the stupid and traumatic injury I suffered in the wee hours of St. Patrick's day and the ensuing surgery and continuing rehab. I may yet.

But right now, typing on my iPad's keyboard is too annoying and I am currently in between computers with proper keyboards, so I will post this for now and hope that by doing so I will inspire myself to post again soon.

Hello again

Hello, poor old neglected blog that no one reads.  I am going to make an effort not only to post frequently, but also to attract actual readers.  So here goes.

I have to admit that I am addicted to the TLC show "Say Yes to the Dress."  So much so that only the reticence to wast the salespeoples' time keeps me from going around to bridal shops and trying on fancy wedding dresses.  That, and the fact that I am no longer a young skinny girl like most of the girls on that show.  Still, that doesn't stop me from watching and coveting those gorgeous dresses and thinking about the wedding I would have if I could have a do-over.

But here's the thing.  When did it become the priority of brides to look sexy on their wedding days instead of just (just?) beautiful?  If one has a great figure, I can see wearing a figure-fitting gown.  Why not?  But why let the boobs hang out on display?  Anyone who has seen this show has seen the astounding amount of cleavage that these brides insist on showing everyone in attendance.  Yes, I am a shy person, albeit so much less so than when I got married, and I am fine with showing what little cleavage I have within reasonable limits.  But showing cleavage to the extent that observers have to wonder if a nip slip is imminent?  Do the grooms really enjoy everyone seeing what their brides are packing?

Maybe I am just old.  But maybe not.
I don't know why I have so many dystopian dreams, but I do.  For NaNoWriMo last year I was talked into trying to turn one into a novel, with horrifying results (and not in a good way).  Basing literature on a dream might have (almost) worked for Coleridge, but not so much for me.

Last night's dream was a real winner.  It began after something bad had happened to our house, and Michael had rented us a fancy hotel room for the month it would take to repair it.  I was pretty excited with that prospect, until I asked if we could bring our dogs.  He said no, of course.  So I said, well, then, rent us a house or a townhouse or something, because I am not boarding our dogs for a month, particularly our very elderly deerhound, and began to cry while telling him that I was NOT going to put our deer boy in a kennel to die.

Luckily (?) the scene shifted to a city rowhouse where we and a number of other people (all women as far as I can remember) were living.  The house and its occupants were under some sort of attack by government forces, and we were all trying to gather up as much of our possessions as possible before fleeing the premises.  We all ran across the street to a parking garage and piled into the same car.

Despite the presence of people stationed on the street to prevent our movements, I managed to run back and forth from the car to the house several times, particularly when I realized that Griffin, our Irish terrier, was still inside.  I was about to go back in again, when two other women joined me and called my name, alerting the guards, and from then on I was never able to evade them.  Michael then said he was going in, but instead of going to our front door, he headed far down the block and disappeared into another building.  I had no idea why.

I waited a while, but soon followed him, accompanied by a number (if not all) of our people.  We found him in a half-open stairwell that lead to a passage that snaked through the buildings and ended in our house, but he was intending to wait until darkness and wasn't at all pleased to see us there.  Then ANOTHER resistance group, masquerading as Shakespearan players, discovered us, and after some discussion, decided to let us join them.  After placing a number of bouquets on the sidewalks outside in honor of a fallen comrade, they took us to their headquarters.

Their leader, a young, delicate girl, said everyone should sing the "Hugging Song," and we all formed circles, back to back, and sang "Dites Moit" from "South Pacific", which I was glad that I knew at least some of the words.

And that's all I remember.  Freaking weird, huh?

Why I can't live in Cheyenne, Wyoming

The weather forecast for Cheyenne  (a beautiful little city that I fell in love with at first sight):

Rest of Today:  Light snow. Snow and rain mixed below 6000 feet. Colder. New snow accumulation up to 1 inch. Near steady temperature in the lower to mid 30s. North winds 15 to 20 mph. Chance of precipitation near 100 percent.

Tonight:  Cloudy with rain and snow likely. Areas of fog after midnight. Colder. Snow accumulation up to 1 inch. Lows 30 to 35. Northwest winds 10 to 20 mph. Chance of precipitation 70 percent.

The Zombie Bug

I had a truly disturbing dream last night and I can't get it out of my mind.  It was one of my patented "long and detailed enough to be a feature film" dreams.  I even woke up once, fell back to sleep, and continued the dream, which almost never happens and surely wouldn't have happened if I'd been dreaming about being in Hawaii with Johnny Depp.  Of course, most of the details eluded me once I woke up, but this is what I remember

There was an insect that bit people and temporarily turned them into zombies, with crazy blue eyes and pinpoint pupils.  The real problem was that the feeling of being a zombie was highly addictive, and so anyone who had been bitten once sought out these bugs to bite them again and again until they permanently turned into zombies. 

My husband and I had been bitten once, but were trying valiantly to resist the urge to be bitten again, so we holed up in the house and suffered through withdrawal.  Once we were feeling stronger, we boarded a plane to Europe, where this insect had not invaded yet.  There was strict screening at the airport, so we felt we were finally safe.  Once in the air, we took a tour of the airplane, which was very Tardis-like, and in one of the rooms we saw a museum-like display of the stages of life of the zombie bug, and we realized that the plane was not safe after all, and the zombie bugs were on the plane with us.

And I think that's where the dream ended and it's bothered me all day.

My year so far

It has been expensive.

On New Year's Eve, my Mini Cooper started overheating when my husband was gassing it up before our drive down to Ocean City, MD  to spend New Year's weekend with friends.  Because his car is in even worse shape, we rented a car. $

When we returned on Sunday, we discovered that our deerhound wasn't well, and so we kept the car for another day -- $ -- so I could take him to the vet on Monday. $

Took the Mini in for service on Tuesday and got it back on Wednesday. $$

Same day, paid a man to tell me that our refrigerator was shot. $

While he was pulling the fridge away from the wall to check it out, he gouged our new Pergo floor. $$$

Bought a new refrigerator. $$

It should get delivered tomorrow, if the snow isn't bad, but since I already had to throw out most of the contents of the freezer, it doesn't really matter much if it's postponed until Monday. $

Got up this morning and found a note from Michael saying not to use the toaster oven, because it had caught on fire when he was toasting his bagel. 

A little afraid to see what tomorrow brings.  Hopefully a new fridge and nothing more.

Upcoming book orgy

I am a happy woman. Beside my bed are all four volumes of the Shadowmarch series by the wonderful Tad Williams. I read the first book and loved it, but when I realized it was a series, vowed not to read any more until it was finished, and now it is. And it is mine.

I have to finish two books before I can dive into Shadowmarch, but soon I will be immersed in the world of Eion and the Eddon family. I can't wait.

Now if George R.R. Martin would only cooperate and finish his Song of Fire and Ice series, my joy would be boundless.

My Holiday To-Do List

Things I have to do before leaving for New Jersey on Saturday morning to visit the family :

1. Thoroughly clean the bedroom and master bathroom to make them presentable for the dog-sitter.

2. Buy gifts for six people and wrap them.

3. Buy and trim Christmas tree.

4. Clean up family room before delivery of new loveseat.

5. Nag Michael to disassemble futon sofa in the family room to make space for new loveseat.

6. Clean any room in the house that the dog-sitter will be using.

I can't do any of this tomorrow, because it's Cookie Day and I'll be baking all day with my friends Barbara and Jan.

I can't do any of this on Monday or Friday, because I will be at work.

#s 3 and 5 can't be done without Michael's help, and he's only available on Sunday and on Wednesday afternoon, except

Wednesday is when the new loveseat is coming, and we don't know when, so if it's in the afternoon, we'll be home waiting for it.

The thought of having to get all of this done in time is very nearly paralyzing.

To add to the joy of the season, once we're in New Jersey, my sisters and I have to talk our parents into moving to assisted living, because my father won't or can't take care of himself, and my mother has made herself ill looking after him.

Bah humbug!

Because today's Studio 360 is all about Gatsby, I thought about this little poem from the beginning, that I have always loved:

Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;

If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,

Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,

I must have you!”

Happy Wednesday

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, the new My Chemical Romance CDarrived from Amazon today, and I am in a good mood!

Congrats to my pal Jonathan, who not only finished his NaNoWriMo novel ahead of time, but exceeded the word count by 5,000!  Yay, Jonathan!


Little Me

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