Crazy Dream Chonicles - #7,247

 Yeah, I have no idea what number this would actually be ... but last night, it was a bit vivid.

In my dream, I was in a Relief Society (church women's organization) meeting. Of course, I hadn't read the lesson. Again. But I was there to take roll and take notes, dang it.

We were meeting in a space very much like the Relief Society/Sunday School classroom at the Corvallis, Oregon college wards building (it's now a YSA [Young Single Adults] branch). It was the first church building for our Church in Corvallis. Nice building. Lots of history.

As I was there, with a pile of Women's World magazines on my lap, my friend from college (not a member of my faith), Talana (yes, we had rhyming names. AND we sat next to each other in class. I'm sure our professors LOVED that, ha ha.) came in.

I scurried over from my seat and sat next to her. I told her that I'd missed her (which is true. She passed from Cystic Fibrosis .... let's see ...four years ago. She'd had a double lung-transplant ... and her body was rejecting them). She was fun and sweet and I was grateful that I could keep up with her on Facebook while I could.

In my dream, I reached over and rubbed her hair, told her that I had missed her, and tried to settle to take notes. Talana, however, was trying to show me where she was going to build her new house and DID YOU KNOW THAT AMAZON MAKES HOUSES? I DESIGNED ONE. IT'S ONLY GOING TO COST 1.7 SOMETHING ...

(No, Talana did NOT specify whether her dream house was going to be $1.7 million OR $1.7 billion. We may never know)

... and I WANTED to go see, but I had to take notes.

Lovely trees, though, where she was trying to take me.

I miss her.
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In other news, one of my friends posted about losing one of HER friends to pancreatic cancer. My heart goes out to her and the loved ones of her friend. 

One of my ladies from my home ward (the congregation where I grew up) is passing from stage 4 cancer. One of Mom's friends (also from my home ward) is doubtful that Buena (since that's her name) will even make it to Christmas. My heart is so sad for Buena's daughters and family. 

I'm grateful for the knowledge that death isn't permanent. But I still don't like it happening. I don't like separations.

All the crazy dreams!!

So, last night, I had a plethora of crazy dreams ... which flowed and ebbed into each other.

It started with visiting a gal I know from church. Her marriage isn't the best right now. Her husband has some pretty serious (and getting serious-er) mental health problems.

At one point in the dream, he asks for some help. (IRL, I'm not completely comfortable with him.) Since Michael's also there, in the dream, visiting these folks, I hesitatingly agree to assist him.

He asks me to come stand near the bathroom door. He proclaims that he's got a terrible fear of water, can't even step in the tub. He starts to fill the bathtub with not even an inch of water. I turn, not knowing what to tell him. He and his wife's son (but wrong age) have stripped or are in the process of taking off their clothes. ... I back out, scrabble for Michael's hand and announce, trying not to sound as panicked and disturbed as I feel, "Thank you SO MUCH for your hospitality, but we really must be going. I have a terrible headache and must leave. RIGHT NOW."

Later, in my dream, we're home ... but it's not like any house I've lived in. There are some similarities to my childhood home ... but it's not. The gal from the previous dream called, asking for help for her husband. And I am trying to be SO NICE since I'm genuinely feeling bad for her. But I am also FREAKED OUT by the situation. And I tell her that, no, I'm very sorry, but I am not the person to assist in this situation. AT ALL.

And I am so tired. And Michael and I are in our room (which, in this dream, is right by my mom's room). And I start to get undressed. And we start to ... well ... get a little frisky. Mostly clothed. But we haven't totally closed our door. And my mom walks by as she heads down the hall. And we have a rather awkward, but short conversation. Whoops.

So, in the next section of dream, our house (which is not our irl house) ... well, the door was left open. And I'm telling off the kids because they KNOW that we can't leave the doors open. BECAUSE THE CATS WILL GET OUTSIDE. And it's dark and I'm trying to count our cats, to make sure that everyone's in the house and safe. And Celeste-cat slinks into the light from the porch, carrying something in her mouth.
At first, I think it's a wet rat, something that she's hunted and brought back ... but it's actually a wet kitten. I would think it was just born. Except that it's about twice the size of a newborn kitten. It's got a collar that says something to the effect of "If you find this kitten, it's yours. We are done keeping track of it."

Harsh.

"Hon," I call. I think we just got ourselves a fourth cat. Sorry?"

Then, in my dream, Michael and I (and maybe Mom and the kids are with us?) are shopping at a little store. It's a lot like the shops downtown and a little like the ones that I shopped at over 20 years ago in Victoria, B.C.

We're browsing through things. At one point, I'm looking through some sale items in a cart outside a shop. They're marked down a LOT. One thing is even free, since someone told the shopowners that it was an empty box, but it wasn't. Things were so on sale that it all came down to around ten dollars.
Even though, with the item marked down to three, it's over $20 of stuff.

There are two shopkeepers. One is a blonde, younger woman. She's sweet and is just trying to keep her shop afloat with all the crazy. The other (her dad?) is an older, bald man. He's grousing about how much things are marked down, muttering, worried.

I dig through the cash in my purse. I give him a ten and two fives, telling him to keep the change. As he looks through the money in his hand, his whole demeanor changes. He's awed and humble and so very sweet. And it didn't cost me much ... just giving a fairer price for all that I was buying.

So, we leave the shop, everyone happy. Celeste-cat is walking along, in front of us, having followed us, like a dog. I think she still has the new, inexplicably still-wet kitten.

------------------------------

I really have no idea what a lot of this is all about.

The phone call from the wife ... I'm pretty sure that's related to a guy who was trying to buy my mom's property. He was ... a knucklehead. He was demanding and really rude to Mom's realtor (and good friend). For someone buying a house on contract (therefore, needed to be in long-term business/contact with the other party), he was quite a piece of work.

Needless to say, we shined up our steel spines and gave the "we cannot accommodate that/those request/s. Good day." ... And, once he realized that he had REALLY messed up and that we were aware that he wasn't our only option, he turned face and had his (sweet) wife call the realtor and ask if we would reconsider.

No. We really wouldn't (and are glad of it). He would have been a very trying neighbor for the folks on either side of the property. And we (and the existing neighbors) are SO VERY GLAD that we put our foot down. ... Really, if you're going to completely try and lowball on a property sold "as is" and THEN make multiple demands (reroof, cleared out, yardwork, etc ... when the seller kindly offered to pay for the property to be mowed AND offered to pay for a dumpster for clearing out the shop)?? Yeah, that was irritating and not happy-making.

But, there's a new buyer. And his family is SO excited for the property. And he's already helped DO stuff. So that is a huge blessing.

-------------------

But, yeah. That's most of what's going on in my subconscious.

... I agree. I totally wouldn't want to visit either. But I don't get a choice. Ha ha haaaa.

Quarantine Ramblings

So ... It's been about a month since the kids were sent home from school. And it's been almost 18 months or thereabout since I last posted.

Yeah ... it's not like anything has happened in the meantime. Because stuff has happened.

Bruise and Bucket have had two birthdays (They're FOURTEEN). Bruise has long hair (past his shoulders now. Bucket's hair is much shorter. I gave her an undercut yesterday.

Bubbles is now eight. She was baptized ... that almost didn't get to happen. Mom, Michael, the kids, Bishop, and I were the only people who were able to attend in person. We were also able to broadcast a live feed over Zoom, thanks to a friend in our ward (congregation). So Bubbles is now an official member of the ward, with a membership number and everything.

Mom gave the opening prayer, Michael baptized Bubbles, Bruise and Bucket were witnesses. I helped her get dried off and dressed. After Bubbles was confirmed and given the gift of the Holy Ghost, I gave the closing prayer ... and started crying during it. It's just been ... a lot going on.

If I were to say that my anxiety isn't doing great ... that wouldn't be a complete lie. I am still mourning Nana's passing. Now I am also mourning all the opportunities that my kids (and other people) are missing out on. We've postponed Bubbles' friends-party (she wanted a science party ... I have all the goodies for it, really ... for when the social-distancing-thing is over) indefinitely.

One of my best friend's mother passed very unexpectedly at the end of February. She had just gotten the all-clear from her doctor to start flying again. Then she had a pulmonary embolism. No one could have seen it coming. We attended the funeral before the pandemic hit. My friend looks SO much like her mom. It was good to see people ... but not under such circumstances.

One of Michael's uncles also passed. The funerals were a few days apart. Again, it was good to see family. But not for a sad occasion. And two funerals in one week is ... draining.

Bucket has been going to counseling for a couple months. It's been good. She was depressed (due to anxiety ... doesn't that sound familiar? Ha haaaa....) ... but she's getting back to her usual self. It's good for her to be able to handle her emotions better. And she tells her counselor and me how much I should get counseling. She's not wrong. But she has better insurance coverage, ha ha ha.

We've started the whole distance-learning-thing in earnest now. It's ... going. Bubbles is in a dual-language immersion program. And the other language is Spanish, which none of the adults are good at. And Bruise and Bucket dropped Spanish at the end of last year ... so it's interesting. Especially the writing assignments.
We finally got their workbooks in the mail yesterday. (Bruise and Bucket got 8th Grade Reading, Language Arts, and Math. Bubbles got a Summer Bridge from 2nd-3rd Grade in English). Bruise and Bucket also have two-week packets for Science (Genetics for now) and Social Studies (the Alamo). They should be receiving information on how to do their Algebra as an independent study since all of the eighth grade is doing the same math currently.

I sewed some masks. It was not quite a comedy of errors ... but since my sewing skills are not what I would describe as brilliant, it was definitely a bunch of learning experiences.

We went down to my mom's property and cleared out a dumpster-full of all the crap that my stepdad "collected" and left in the yard. The back yard is mostly mowed. The side yard is nearly cleared. We still need to weedeat and mow the front and creek-side parts of the yard. And clean out the rest of the junk in the big shop and the side yard. Lots of yard work, since we couldn't ever find anyone who would be willing to do it. *sigh* But it's looking a lot better.

We've been getting a lot more birds in our yard. There was a crow the other day. We also have ducks from the lake. We see a lot of duck orgies happening. There were two ring-necked doves on the fence this morning. Lots of juncos, a goldfinch, sparrows, chickadees ... sometimes we get a hummingbird or two, some swallows.

Michael is (mostly) working from home. He goes into the office once a week to check messages (and forward those on to coworkers). Mostly, he's in the furnace room on his computer. We got the furnace room a bit more cleaned and organized, so that gives him an ersatz office. He's got wifi, electricity, and is close to a bathroom ... the concrete floor is cold, but he can wear his slippers.

Bruise has been on a big heist-movie kick. He's watched quite a few: Going in Style, Ocean's 11-13 (with Brad Pitt), The Italian Job (the one with Mos Def), Catch Me if You Can, ... I'm almost worried that I've managed to raise a criminal mastermind. Thankfully, this child has strong Gryffindor tendencies, so if he doesn't follow through on becoming an anesthesiologist, he might go into crime prevention.

Bucket has been reading a lot. And watching shows, mostly on Disney+ and Netflix. She and Bubbles will do online Zoom dance classes with their studio during the week. Or Bruise will take Bucket for a jog/walk around the lake.

Bubbles and I have been working our way through the Little House books. I've been reading them aloud to her. We got through Little House in the Big Woods. Now we're a few chapters into Little House on the Prairie. She's enjoying them.

I've been reading the Abhorsen books (by Garth Nix) to Bruise and Bucket. We finished Sabriel last week and are about seven chapters into Lirael. It's slower going since the books are much longer. But it's nice to have the time and opportunity to share some of my favorites with them. Bruise is reading the last book in the Arc of a Scythe series. Bucket is in the second book now.

Since he doesn't have to commute to work everyday, Michael has more time to read. He's been rereading Weiss and Hickman's Chronicles of Dragonlance trilogy.

I've not been doing so well at getting through books. You'd think that I would have been able to jump on the chance to have more time to read ... yeah, not so much. I'm in a bit of a book slump. Doesn't help that the libraries are all closed for coronavacation.  I've gotten few a couple books, but nothing like my usual pace when life isn't so busy.

I try and check in on my Ministering Sisters. One lives in an assisted care facility. One is turning 90 this year. Two are sisters. And I gained another who has some health issues, so already didn't get out much. Thank goodness for texting (except for the oldest gal who I actually do call to check up on and chat with). I don't know that I'm the most effective Ministering Sister. I hope that they all know that I do care for them and am here to help.

I have taken baths to relax. I should paint my toenails. I always feel better when my toes look like I've made an effort.

My dreams ... I don't' usually remember them. But I do recall bits of one that caused me to wake up laughing. I was with Moss (from The IT Crowd). And he kept mispronouncing something ... and it involved the word fork ... maybe "enforkled?" But it was so funny and he was hilarious ... that I know that I giggled myself awake at least once.

......... Oh my freaking HECKK ... these writing assignments might just be the death of me.
Between Bubbles' Spanish writing assignment, Bucket just losing her data (it's not showing up ... then I DID find it. Huz-freaing-zah), and Bruise totally broke down crying over not knowing how to even start that dang assignment (so I sent him out for a walk around the lake ... it didn't really work.).
I did offer to be their stenographer (except that I don't write in shorthand. Though, my HS Choir teacher did know shorthand. He told me that he would leave notes for one of his teachers and she'd respond, also in shorthand).


And I just FINALLY finished cooking one of the worst-looking coffee cakes of my life. I was supposed to take 40 minutes to cook. I had doubled it ... and it took over two hours  ... and it's really not even cooked all the way through. Even though the flavors are okay, I am NOT going to add this to my repertoire of recipes. Yeah. It's really wet still. AFTER TWO HOURS AND TURNING UP THE HEAT. UGH.

So, yeah. There's been enough tears and I'm really done with this morning.

And I need to go pick up dirt for the garden. And I don't want to do ANYTHING anymore today.

Do over, maybe?

So, I've started a new blog for Nana's and Grandma Darlene's recipes.

If you care to look at it (there's not a whole lot there right now ... it's going to be a pretty big endeavor), it's at https://cookingwithnanandgram.blogspot.com/

There's two actual posts of recipes ... so ... yeah.

I haven't been sleeping well.

Last night, I remember dreaming that the van (my car) was starting to break down. And I maybe got a ticket for having sparks from under the car.
THEN, when Michael and I were driving a load of ... some stuff ... from Washington, we were going through a town and got pulled over by a deputy-guy-in-training. And he wrote a ticket for, like, $542 for something under the truck ... and when we were proving that we DIDN'T have sparks or whatever under the truck, he refused to take it away, since it would reflect badly on his homework or something.
BUT! He WOULD lower it to $537.
Yeah, thanks.

Thankfully that was just a dream.
And the only money woes we really have are because the other house still hasn't sold at all.
Good times.

We're feeding the missionaries today.
Bruise got (mostly) caught up on homework ... so he's at a friend's house (after we cranked the last two answers out this morning.
I did let him know that when he neglects or chooses not to turn in work or to not give a full effort, it reflects poorly on Michael and me, since that's a lot of how his teachers know about our family.

I will also let Bucket know that, too.

I know that things need to get done. And I'm doing some of them. But I'm not motivated.
My head and neck and shoulders hurt. I just wish that I didn't have to THINK for a while ... and I'm such the type that's always in my head. I just want a mental vacation.

I could gripe about how I do all the mother-stuff: make sure the kids are off to school/drive them to school or their bus stop, morning devotional, make sure they're eating, attempt to cook something healthy, pick them up from school or their bus stop (unless the big kids are walking home), drive the girls to their dance classes, drive Bruise and Bubbles to soccer practices, attempt to be social and happy ... or at least act like I am ..., ...

I almost wish that I had a day or a week or a month where I could just curl up in bed and hibernate. Maybe, then, when I woke up, I wouldn't be sad or overwhelmed.

I'm reading scriptures. I'm saying prayers. We're reading and praying as a family. I have a testimony. I'm going through the motions. I don't have any desire to NOT go to church or to not pray or to not read scriptures. I still really suck at the whole pondering or studying or meditating on things ... I know that I'll be blessed -- that I AM blessed -- from just TRYING. That Heavenly Father appreciates my efforts.

I don't feel like the best Ministering Sister. I get that it's a higher law. And I love that we're getting to that level as a Church and a society ... but, I kinda suck as a friend. I check in and ask them if they want a visit or could use anything ... I just know that I should be doing more. That I SHOULD be being inspired. And ... I'm ... I'm just treading water, keeping afloat just enough.

I want to be ... oh, ... confident in my spirituality. Does that even make sense?
I want to FEEL the Holy Ghost. I do okay as I'm getting a blessing. I know that my Heavenly Father is aware of me and loves me and all that. I get that. I have a testimony of that. I have knowledge of that.

I just am not feeling as inspired. And I'm sure that it's me. I've done something or NOT done something. And I'm trying to figure out what exactly I need to repent of and change (probably the  going-through-the-motions ... but I'm not sure what else to do).

And this has been happening for a few weeks. Several weeks. It's not just since Nana died.
But that's made it harder. Not going to lie about or sugarcoat that fact.

I mean, with dealing with my emotions from Nana's dementia (and then her death), I do understand why people drink.
Heck, I'm tempted to take a Percocet. But I don't.
Mostly because I know that doing that isn't going to fix anything. Escapist reading hasn't fixed anything. Not that I've done a whole lot of that the last week.

What have I done a lot of? Mindless games on my phone.
Not quite what I'm sure President Nelson had in mind when he told us to go on that 10-day social media fast.
That first day, I actually was pretty productive. Then I kinda slipped into games. Then Nana went into an unresponsive state. Then she passed. ... And, a couple days later, I emerged from avoiding Facebook and Instagram. Those are my big social-media time-sucks.

I followed the prophet. Was I ecstatic about it? Not really.
Of course ... at the same point, I don't feel ecstatic about ... anything right now, tbh.

I shaved my legs yesterday. It was past time, for sure.
I also bought blue lipstick. It would look better on a face that had foundation and sleep.

I've been trying to do some self-care. I'll eat. At some point. I try to drink water or juice ... mostly to combat crying-induced headaches. I'll do a face mask, so I don't look quite as haggard. I'll take a shower, so I don't disgust myself. I do some housework, so that something in my life looks nice and somewhat organized. I talk aloud to Nana, since I know the veil is thin. She might be here, who knows? I can't feel her. But I can't totally feel much right now.

I'm easily irritated and prefer to be mostly alone. This way no one has to be aware of how much I cry or anything. Honestly, I'm not that much fun to be around. I'm cranky or despondent. I just want some mindless task that I can do, where I don't have to think or react to anything.

More than anything, I just want Nana and Pop-pop's old house. Even just the living room. How the light would slant through the curtains on a summer's afternoon. The smells of living and traces Pop-pop's cigarette smoke interwoven into the carpet, curtains, and furniture.
I think, that in Heaven, that will be one room in my house. Or a bottle of scent, at the least.

Maybe I should steam some broccoli. That was one of the smells that would waft through from the kitchen at their house.

Christmas hasn't ever been the same since Grandma Darlene passed ... and that was 22 years ago. Mom's stepdad passed a couple years afterwards ... that had no effect. Then Pop-pop passed. And then Nana moved ... and then had to move in with my uncle and aunt ... and then was in memory care. The major memories of Christmas in my rather idyllic, for the most part, childhood centered around being at my grandparents' houses. And that .... isn't ever happening again. And, really, hasn't happened for a while.

I know that it's up to me to start making some of these memories better and all. But ... I don't really know how to start yet.
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. I love being with my family. But ... there was something just magical about Christmas as a child. And I've not been able to fully replicate it for myself since Grandma Darlene passed. And, then after not having Nana and Pop-pop's house in the Christmas equation, it's been paler and sadder .... bittersweet, maybe. Maybe that's the better way to term it.

I should get a shower. My hair hurts as I've been crying off and on as I type this all.

Wow. I'm so fun to be around, aren't I? You used to come and read this blog for my witty bon mots and refusal to take life too seriously ... and now it's all mopey and bleak and guilt-ridden. Good times indeed.

Hopefully, I'll be out of this grief-induced funk soon. I can hardly stand to be around myself ... I can't imagine that you're having a great time, either.

Crazy Dream Chronicles #8,142,018: Brought to you by Melatonin? Maybe?

Yeah, between moving and preparing the old house for sale and getting the kids registered at their schools (Yay for the dual-language program! We didn't have to move schools ... and, actually, where we moved puts the big kids in the boundaries for their preferred high school in a couple years. And they still can ride the bus to middle school ... so will Bubbles, in fact. I have to transport Bubbles to her school, since we're outside HER school boundaries, but she's grandfathered in because ... wait for it .. the dual-language program. That and I think that her elementary would be sad if I abdicated my secretarial duties for the Parent Teacher Club. Just sayin'.)

SO, I had a doozy of a dream last night.

Starter: In it, I was me-but-not-me. I was single. Had roommates. Had a single-story house. Had a date.

He took me to a little ice cream place. I didn't order anything wildly expensive. We chatted. It was ... okay. Not the best date. Could be worse.

Went to a church dance. He was also driving a couple of his (guy) friends in the backseat. We went to the dance. There was another guy who treated me much more like a gentleman. He looked familiar. I couldn't recognize him at first ... it was really my friend's old brother (who, IRL, I did crush on back in the day), as his early-marriage self (since I was also a lot sleeker in my dream. Why is that?). But his wife came and she and I chatted. And I finally recognized him.

On the drive home, my date was kinda pointedly unhappy. I offered to help chip in for gas. Not because we'd driven a long way, but because he was running a little low and I felt bad for not wanting to go on another date with him ... like, ever. So, even though I don't have a job, I wanted to soften the blow a little, you know?

I was going to give him, what, five dollars, since it wasn't a long drive. And he kept hinting that more would be better. And I didn't want to fill up his tank, since he didn't drive THAT far or spend that much money on our date. ... And, in my purse, I had limited cash. And a BUNCH of these "Christmas Coupons:" shiny, white paper vouchers with bright color printing. The red-printed one was for $2. There was also a $5 voucher, one for $3, another for $7 ... just weird amounts. So I primly stated (for benefit of the guys in the backseat, so THEY'D be aware that shaking your date down for gas money is NOT the done thing, that I didn't think that filling his tank would be fair. And that I didn't realize that this was the expectation. I did give him, over $5, but less than $15. I just wanted to be done with the conversation and rid of him.

THAT car ride FINALLY ended. Then he demanded, while my roommates' dog and cat swarmed me as I got out of that interminable car, that we read scriptures before he left. And by "we," he meant "me." So I'm petting a dog and trying to stop the cat from pouncing on its  underbelly, claws out, and reading .... Isaiah, maybe? And I'm tripping on all the words as the animals are wriggly. And I'm thinking,"This is horrible. All three of those guys are going to think that I'm completely illiterate!" 

THEN the cat drooled and got it in my mouth, like a LOT of drool. And I started gagging. And I was all, "Guys, I've GOT to go." Since I didn't want to throw up in front of them. I ran for the house, made it inside. Told a roommate in the front room that I'd be in the bathroom. Made it. 

So, I'm sitting on the toilet, minding my own business, proverbially licking my wounds ... and, through the floor-length windows (thank goodness for sheers!!), THE DATE is griping about how I didn't give him a kiss or anything. I am SITTING ON THE TOILET ... having thrown up from a dripping of cat drool in my MOUTH ... and he has WALKED AROUND TO THE BACK OF THE HOUSE to gripe about NOT getting a kiss? 

Then that dream ended. (Girls? NEVER date a guy like that. Ever.)

Second section of dreamtime: I stole a not-segway, but like it? You had to pedal it, but the bottom was shaped like a little tank. And it said it was from the Queen Valley Police Department ... So, NOT Seattle (King County), but like unto? It was in a city, anyways.

And I realized that I should have disguised myself. I was going through celebrities ... and settled that I SHOULD have disguised myself as Jennifer Lawrence, since she totally COULD AND WOULD pull off a prank like that.

Then, Jennifer Lawrence was there. And she wanted me to help her with some heist. So she's rolling my clothes (on me -- like a loose cardigan and other stereotypical librarian wear get-up) so that it'll fit better under a catsuit. And then I can ditch the catsuit, rip off the stickers, and be fully dressed  ... to, I don't know, establish an alibi or something?

As we're about ready, she asks how my ears are. And I'm CONFUSED. She restates the question as, "When did you last see a chiropractor?" (Answer, irl, when I was pregnant with Bruise and Bucket ... so over 12 years) ... My dream-self said, "Um ... like 1999?" She was disgusted and beckoned over a mousy-type man. And he was a chiropractor. And he started manipulating my back and neck ... and I could just FEEL the tension falling off my neck, shoulders, and back ... SO GOOD.

And then I woke up with sore shoulders and not having completed the heist. Sorry Jennifer Lawrence. Maybe if you get me that chiropractor, I might consider it.

..............................................

So ... if you're the type to look for meaning in dreams, what is my subconscious trying to tell me?
(Maybe, stay off the melatonin? Maybe go see a chiropractor? Maybe money IS just a bunch of weird colors printed on weird paper? Maybe I need to try to hem those crazy-long sheer curtains that I hung in the guest room last week? I don't know.)

Okay, now to get dressed, work at unpacking, hope the phone tech comes soon so that we can go the an activity at a local park this morning, clean the basement and the bathrooms and the kitchen ... Finish reading and reviewing an eBook I got for free.

Even though all I really want to do is just lay in bed and read and sleep. Good times.

yiggety yo ... it's been a while ...

So, I just haven't had a lot to say that I haven't said on Facebook.

But today, spilling over from yesterday ... there's some.

I just am feeling like a kinda crap mother.

Saturday was okay. Bubbles turned 6. We had a party for family, then went out for dinner (Still not wildly impressed with Red Robin. But I got my Poppin' Purple Lemonade, so it wasn't too bad. Michael's burger was still cold, though. Drat.) ...  The day before, she got to have a couple friends join her at the local bounce-house-place. I learned that the moms of Bubbles's friends know each other ... so all the kids AND all the moms are friends. That was a sweet deal. And we took little cupcakes (and cookies for the lactose-intolerant kids) to her classroom.

But ... Sunday was tougher.
We had discussed reverence last week for Family Home Evening. And Bruise agreed to NOT do sudoku during Sacrament Meeting (like ... Communion? But it's what LDS people call it). Bucket has started drawing stuff from Five Nights at Freddy's ... which I asked her to refrain from. Since we're, y'know, supposed to be thinking about JESUS. And I have put my foot down that they WILL put away their stuff and SING during the songs (all 3-4 of them).

Bubbles is doing her thing, looking over the back of our pew and distracting the people behind us. Michael's dealing with that.

At one point, I look over ... Bucket is on the FLOOR, buns pointed to the person bearing his/her testimony, with her head under the pew.

"Hey ... hey!" I hiss at her. "You need to be SITTING now. On the PEW." ... Basic stuff, right?

"FINE!!" She snarls back. "Then I WON'T look for my pen!"

And ... guys, I just ... I just couldn't handle being there, on the same pew.
I whispered to Michael that I was going to take a walk ... and I left the chapel, stepped outside, walked around the building to where I could walk in without running into too many people, did my best not to cry ... I found that the Relief Society (women's group) room was empty. So I popped in there, turned on the speaker, and listened to the other testimonies being borne. And I still worked at not crying. Because I looked nice. And crying would make me all puffy and red-faced and my mascara would run and I'd have tear-tracks through my foundation.

I managed. Then I had to find Michael (and my bag, which he had taken). and I helped a friend find pictures for her lesson (I have served as an assistant Ward [congregation] librarian before. Mostly, it's all about finding pictures, making copies, and ensuring that there's chalk, erasers, crayons, and TVs). I also ran into another friend to ask a favor (and she agreed. Awesome girl).
Then I hung with Michael and helped him get set up for teaching the YM during the third hour.
Then we went in late to Sunday School.

And we went home after, to drop the girls off. They made mac and cheese, but not enough ... so when Michael, Bruise, and I got back from dropping off an invite to one of Bruise's classmates, there wasn't lunch for me. And I was not happy.

I finished typing up the Relief Society newsletter and sent it out. Only one mistake ... and no one has called me on it yet (I didn't change the subject line from "test email - [date]" ... but that's better than last week when I left in the "forwarded message" gobbledygook at the top of the email  --- since I send myself a "test email" then send it to the rest of the Relief Society. Maybe next week, I'll remember BOTH bits?)

Then I made myself mac and cheese and went to bed. I read a little, then SLEPT HARD. I remember waking up when Michael came in to take a nap. I vaguely remember Bucket coming in and giving me a kiss on the cheek. I vaguely recall Michael instructing the kids to take out the trash.

I did have a crazy dream. We were in a different (not nicer, just different) house. And Michael was making a meal. And, when he handed it to me, my mug was filled with, like 1/4 full of noodles ... and the broth was filled with a clean, unwrapped pantyliner, wrappers from bandaids ... I was kinda ticked. It's a good thing that I realized it was a dream ... or else, when he came to bring me IRL dinner (which was NOT topped with garbage), I'd have been all, "Michael, WHAT the HELL?!?" and he'd have been confused.

I want to be a good mom. But I just don't feel like I'm ... making it.
The house is cleaner (still) than it's been in a long time. I do a daily morning devotional with the kids before they go to school. They're alive. They're fed. They have clothes, shoes, blankets ... but I just feel like I'm barely managing to tread water with Bucket.

I try to do things, spend time with her ... and then stuff like this happens.
At least Bruise and Bubbles are sweet to me, even when they're mad.

What am I doing wrong?  I mean, I must be doing something wrong.
It's not like I haven't read, like, a BAZILLION books about parenting crap ... but I'm just not getting it.

CrazyDreamChronicles™ ... a THEATRE production ... with MUTANTS!

So, last night, I dreamed that I was going to a middle-school production (since Bucket was recently in a school production of Annie, Jr.) ... and Bucket's choir teacher (who also is in charge of the drama department at her middle school), told me that she needed me to take over the role of Lily St. Regis.

Thankfully, since my dream-self is about 150 lbs lighter than my real-life self, I was about the same weight I was 6th-12th grade. ... Therefore, I could fit in a costume. And it was a 70s-era dress ... but, thinking about how fashion is cyclical, so MAYBE there were some 1930s style elements in it. And the dress kept evolving ... so at one part, I'm all, "HEY!! WHERE ARE THE SLEEVES?? THESE ARE SPAGHETTI STRAPS! ARE WE GOING TO HAVE A WARDROBE MALFUNCTION??" ... And, at another point, I look down and recognize the material of the dress as a floral scarf that I had bought at a resale store ...

Now, Bucket's friend (who REALLY played Lily in our local production) was MAD at me for taking her role ... but, hey, her teacher DEMANDED that I play it.

And I had a small excerpt of the script that I was furiously cramming. And it was NOTHING like the REAL script. Like there were aliens and flying and ...

Segue into another part of a dream, there were a LOT of us. And we were mutants (like X-Men-type mutants, not just genetic travesties). And there was another girl and we were like best friends and we all had to surround the White House, but it was VERY different, like Frank Lloyd Wright design with LOTS of big windows. And I'm pointing out to people, to try and help keep us all calm as we were preparing for a battle, (even though I've NEVER been to DC. Seriously, the farthest east I've been was a short trip to Mississippi, where we briefly went to Alabama and Louisiana) ... So I'm being a long-distance tour guide -- "That third floor? That's their work out area. See the treadmills? ... And the second floor, that's the meeting room. The bottom floor there? That's the lobby and cafeteria."

Yeah, I don't get it, either.

It was rather stressful and not very restive.

Crazy Dream Chronicles Strikes (Yet Again)

So, since I didn't post FIRST THING upon getting up, I only have snatches of last night's dream ...

• It was at a school.
• I was a janitor? Whatever, I was there with Michael after hours.
• There was a display case.
• In the display case (which was easily opened, ... this is pertinent a couple bullet points down)
• Part of the display is a tall, thin, skinny-oval egg. It's tan and speckled with darker brown, white, and black spots.
• The egg begins to crack/hatch.
• A little animal (about seven inches [or thereabouts] long squirms out.
• I pick it up.
• It's a beaver ... a very cute and tiny and well-behaved beaver.
• I don't know what to do with it
• I start to browse the internet [with incognito tabs, since I don't have a license for owning a beaver and I don't want to get in trouble, but it doesn't have a mom and I can't bear for it to starve, since it's a newly-hatched BABY ... and, YES, irl, I KNOW that beavers are MAMMALS and do NOT hatch from eggs] for BEAVER MILK, since I know that there's cat-milk for abandoned kittens, so NATURALLY there'd be BEVER MILK, OF COURSE.
  
  (There's a reason I call these "crazy dream chronicles" ... My subconscious is a very strange place.)
  
• I'm working my darndest to sell Michael on the idea of having a baby beaver.
• He's not really buying it, but agrees that we can foster it while we call a wildlife refuge to take decent care of it.
  
  
• But, I think that when we called, they couldn't take it for some amount of time, so I NEEDED to foster this critter.

And that was the main gist of my dream.

SPECIAL.

Crazy Dream Chronicles: Celebrity Cameos

I'm not remembering much of my dreams ... but what I do recall? Wowza.

A couple nights ago, I remember, in my dream, being at a table. A light colored, round-ish table.
One of my (VERY, VERY EXTENDED) cousins, C, was there.
Pulling up a chair and swinging into it, next to her, was Chris Hemsworth.
They were obviously friends. They joked and bantered ... he playfully pretended to give a chomp to her neck.
Wacky fun.

(And also, NICE! Good for C, getting to be friends with CHRIS HEMSWORTH!! Even if it's just in my dream.)

Last night, I remember that, in my dream, Michael and I ... and other people ... were walking through a house? A house museum?

Regardless, in the dream, there was a narrow flight of stairs. Not TOO narrow.
But I bumped my purse (something that happens VERY often, irl, since I try to be prepared for nearly anything ... which necessitates carrying around THE PURSE OF DOOM™) ... where was I?
That's right ... I bumped my purse into JOSH GROBAN.

And then, classy dame that I am, I started doing the impression of Josh Groban from Kid Snippets.
CLASSY.

However, Josh Groban was CHARMED and DELIGHTED and asked me to do it again. And he walked me down the stairs on his arm. Very nice boy, he is.

And, NO, my Kid Snippets Josh Groban impression is not really that good at all.
Just being honest.

.... Now, WHY are these folks showing up in my dreams?
I suppose because Cousin C has Disney Princess hair ... so it makes sense to pair her with the Marvel Superhero (since they're now owned by Disney) with godlike hair.

And Josh Groban has been showing up a lot on my Facebook feed advertisements...

But, no, it doesn't really make all that much sense. Not a lick of sense, really.

Layers upon Layers of TEH CRAZEE in today's serving of Crazy Dream Chronicles™

So, since my dream was SO full of the craziness, Imma just going to do bullet points.
(It's not like anything is going to make much sense, anyways. Let's just look at the facets on this brilliant cut jewel of CRAZY.)

• Michael bought a camper trailer. It was ... in serious need of repairs.
  (Though, irl, his dad often will buy things to fix up. Or he'll "redesign" a plan ... hence the toolhouse he built before he and Mom C moved away. We called it "the birdhouse," since that's what it looked like. ... Michael usually doesn't do this. He's very aware of how much time he has to put into a project AND about how much time to budget to really fix a project.)
• I took a nap in said dream-trailer as we drove somewhere. Then I woke up and played a computer game. For a small fee of in-game coins (that you could earn, since I'm cheap like that), you could have the in-game band perform a special song.
  Which, as it turns out, they did as a CGI-version of the cast of Daria. Dressed in medieval garb. It was glorious. I wondered if I had enough coins to afford to do it again so that Michael could see the glory of it.
• When we stopped, I worked to fix up the kitchen counter in there. Then I realized that I need to take inventory and plan for all the pantry supplies (salt, pepper, dry goods, etc) so that we could use the camper at a moment's notice. 
• In the camper, there was also a rusty, claw-foot bathtub with part of a shower curtain around it. The shower curtain needed to be washed, so I took it down and it was COATED with this weird, viscous, clear gelatin. GROSS. And then the tub was one-third full of this yucky, milky, thick liquid. I considered myself lucky that I had a pair of those yellow kitchen gloves, so I pulled the plug to drain it. And filled it with some clear water for rinsing it out.
  BUT!! The water didn't go down the drain correctly, and you could feel the water sloshing around under the metal-plated floor.
  AND!!!!! In the clear water, there was this black, smoke-like liquid undulating up from the drain. Out of the tub/drain (though I don't know HOW) springs a full-grown chimpanzee with a dead baby chimp dangling by its heel from her hand. She races out the door and drops the stillborn chimp on the junk pile we're parked on.
  Then another chimpanzee ... or maybe the first one came back and traded a dead human baby for the now-living (and remarkably eloquent ... like talking better than most 4-year-old humans) baby chimpanzee.
• Then Michael and I were moving into a house with his old roommate, B, and his wife, P (I have no idea where ANY of our kids are). We were living in a house together and decided to trade which floors we lived on. They used to have the ground floor. There had been a tiny jacuzzi in the living room, but they ripped it out. So there was this green-tiled area with one of those metal dishes you screw into a wall (but this was in the floor) to hide/stop the pipes.
  And there was a BIG bathtub in the corner near it. That was cool, sure, but, like, what if someone wanted to watch TV while Michael and I used the bath? That'd be really awkward. Even with a shower curtain. It's just a bad interior design.

Then I woke up, since Michael's alarm went off and he wasn't in the room. So I got up, since I needed to ... powder my nose. And I told him about the crazy of the dreams.

And, stepping into the bathroom, I stepped on an article of clothing that the kids left out ... which, combined with the fact that I use body oil spray when I get out of the shower AND we have those peel-and-stick tiles on the bathroom floor ... I slipped in slow motion. I landed (softly, expecially considering my body-type) with my left leg bent under me (like half-lotus or cross-cross-applesauce) and my right leg pointed straight out in front of me.

And, since I am behind on the laundry, my fall was cushioned by the pile of dirty clothes ... so ... tender mercies of the Lord?

Then I went back to bed.

And NEXT DREAM! STILL CRAZY!!

• Michael and I were going through a drive-thru restaurant, but something was going wrong...
• MOM and I were going through the drive-thru and we thought we'd get slushies.
  They had three flavors: Orange, Green, and Red ... and those each had a description (but after picking up the house, loading the dishwasher, rushing a kid to school for Musical Theater, and dealing with a Miss Little Chatterbox, I'm forgetting most of the flavors.
  BUT! The mean thing was that the red one was Ginger Dragonfruit, which sounded really intriguing.
  BUT! They only were serving certain flavors on certain days ... or something. And one of the slushie machines was out of order. And I didn't really care for the other flavors as much. And, since they didn't have signs on the drive-thru menu about the limitations on flavors, I was a little miffed. 
• We got our dang drinks anyways and brought them to Michael's truck.

Yeah ... I don't really know what's up with my subconscious. No clue.

But I need to get myself showered and dressed, since I have a cousin-friend (srsly, we're like 10th cousins, 7 times removed) and maybe her grown-up daughters coming over to watch a movie together. I'll put Bubbles to play on the blue tablet ... it'll be good.

Yeah, I really have NO CLUE what my subconscious is up to. No idea at all.

Second helping of those Crazy Dream Chronicles™

So, since I've been awake for a little, I'm losing some of the details ... but here's the gist:

There was one part in where there were ants. LOTS of ANTS. And I was tracing where they were coming from. They were crawling up a bookshelf (like one that Michael's made for me in our house), but the setup of the house was more like my mom's house (my childhood home). I was debating on getting a spray bottle with water, alcohol, and peppermint oil ... and how badly it might hurt the books on those shelves.

DREAM PRIORITIES, YO.
YIGGITY-YO.

The other part of my dream had me going to the inside of a building. It seemed like a historical building, but also like a used-book store (which, tbh, would be a place that I'd LOVE. Since books, for cheap. And the smell of books permeating the room(s). Love that).

And there was a guy there. Kinda a larger-built guy, bushy hair ... kinda reminds me of the acupuncturist I had after a car accident. Nice guy. Haven't seen him in over a decade.

BUT, this guy, in my dream, he was a painter. And I was looking for a birthday present for Michael. And I figured that I'd get a painting ... since, well, here I am, and here's a local-artist-guy ... and we start making plans. And it'll be cool. And hopefully Michael will like it.

Later, I catch up with the artist again (LET IT BE SAID, that, irl, if I were to commission a painting, Michael and I have already agreed that we'd get it from one of our friends who does GORGEOUS seascapes and florals. Seriously, her work is amazeballs. She also makes a most wonderful neighbor and I miss her very, very much since she moved back to Utah) ... and I'm looking at the invoice....

And, like, I thought I'd be paying in the neighborhood of, say, $300 for a commissioned painting.
NO, PEEPS, NO.
It's, like, $2,198 ... and I'm just flabbergasted. I'm GASTED with FLABBER.
This is seriously expensive. And what if Michael doesn't even like it?
So I'm trying to backpedal to arrange something that, you know, we can AFFORD, while not offending his artistic sensibilities.

And that's really about the part where I wake up.

But I do miss getting acupuncture. Pretty relaxing, really.
Not as relaxing as a massage, of course. But still a bit decadent.

Yet another dishing of Allanna's Crazy Dream Chronicles

I'm coughing less ... when I remember to take my steroid inhaler (1 puff in the morning. One at night. ... If I miss a dose, the next couple days are ... interesting).

I keep having strange dreams.

Here's one that I had typed up for my Facebook page:

Well, my dreams were not the most restful. First part, Michael and I picked up plans for a new house, but didn't tour the model home (though it was practically across the street) so I couldn't picture it in my mind to explain it to people.
(You might NOT want to read further, if you're squeamish. Just giving you advance warning.) 

Then we were at a meeting to look at more plans, but it turned into a missionary-type meeting and I was filling out a paper to help tech people (but it seemed more like busywork/fill-in-the-blanks, which was SO NOT REAL) ... then I was sitting on a couch next to [Bubbles] and we're about to say a prayer and I scratch off a scab-thing on my elbow-pit and this pink, gelatinous tube comes out. And it's MOVING. There's a WORM. IN MY ARM. And, since it's prayer, I can't just go get up and gab something to wrap it in and throw it away, so I fling it onto the floor. Then I see there's more in my scab-hole, so I squeeze to get an end and start wrapping more worm around the end of my finger ... and the prayer is over and I get [Bucket] to get me a Kleenex and wrap the flung-to-the-carpet worm and what I've wrapped around my finger into the Kleenex ... and I'm worried that maybe this is just a scab inside my blood vessel from an immunization? Then I realize, as I'm blearing awake that you don't get vaccinations in your elbow-pit.
(Okay, it's safe again.) 

My subconscious has issues.

I don't recall everything about last night's dream ...
Here are the points that I do recall:

• I was a single, younger (thinner) version of myself.
• One of my high-school friends was refusing to celebrate Christmas because it's not scientific and was being kind of a jerk about it (wouldn't accept gifts from people, in a slightly abrasive way) ... IRL, he IS a scientist. He's even worked at NASA for a summer and volunteered at OMSI for a bit. But he's pretty cool towards people.
• My high-school crush-of-crushes was there. He was being aloof. Later he planted a kiss on me (and two other girls) ... even if he hadn't smooched those other girls? ... The kiss was ... extremely lackluster. So, there you go.
• A woman professor (more adult than the dream-versions of ourselves) got the first friend to be willing to acknowledge the holiday. I was crying and thanking her for saving Christmas.

Yeaaaaaaah. My subconscious is an interesting place.

Okay, I need to get ready to take Bubbles to Musicmakers.
I mostly just want to crawl into bed, read and/or sleep.

Just give me six more months and I can actually do that ... it'll be strange to have all the kids in school. But it'll be kinda cool, too. Errands will be a bit easier. A bit lonelier, too.
I'm sure that I'll manage.

Still not dead yet!

Wow ... my last post was ... TWO WHOLE MONTHS AGO?!?

I mean, I knew it'd been a while ... but, wow. Okay.

Why haven't I blogged? Well, lazy covers it. That and I'm not the most exciting person.

I'd been reading more. Fell out of that. Caught up in Facebook games and life, I suppose.

Let's see ... what's the bullet list?

• I turned 35. 
• One of my friends got a place of her own and is moved in ... and out of her ex-husband's place. Thank goodness.
• The big kids (Bruise and Bucket) finished fourth grade. They passed. ;)
  They had a great year, actually. They're looking forward to next school year.
• We have been going around to a lot of places in town.
  Our city does a cute little scavenger-hunt-but-not activity during the summer.
  Kids of all ages can get a "passport" at the Visitors Association, then go to each of the places/events (like a couple local festivals) listed and get a stamp at each one. Then, bring your passport back at the end of the summer. Each stamp = 1 entry in a drawing for prizes.
  One year, Bucket won a gift certificate for the local paint-your-own-pottery place downtown. Last year, she won vouchers for the local bounce-house.
• The kids have been watching more and more of the Studio Ghibli films (Kiki's Delivery Service, Howl's Moving Castle, My Neighbor Totoro) ... we just got Only Yesterday (FINALLY released in North America!) and Spirited Away is on its way to our door (that's my favorite one).
• My stepdad's dementia is getting worse ... as it does. It's really stressful for my mom. And I don't really know what to do about it.
  My Nana finally got moved into the memory care place ... and she's liking it very much. I need to write her a letter ... and I've been putting it off. Like a jerk.
• I've had some doozies of dreams. I don't remember much of them, really.
  In one, I had such bad head lice (but the kids were FIIIIIINE!!) that it looked like moving dandruff on my head from a distance. Gross.
  In last night's episode, there was a crazy drought AND zombie apocalypse ... and there was a dad living on an desert island with at least one daughter ... and he was wanting her to help him die so that she'd have food to outlast all the awful times ... Yeah, my brain is weird.
• Got a few sunburns ... and maybe a heat rash on ONE arm. Now it just has these little pale bumps on it. I don't like it.
• Michael and I went through and weeded out stuff we've already watched on our Netflix queue. I know, we're SO ADULTY.
• Mom and I ordered a full box of Horrible Histories for the kids (and ME!) ... this way they'll be more ready to play Timeline (a tabletop game where you put historical events in order. It's fun. Unless you don't LIKE fun and/or history. Then may the angels weep for you ... because history is AWESOME! ... Remember, I grew up devouring the Little House on the Prairie books and Anne of Green Gables. I love me some historical fiction. I also love learning, because I feel that it makes me a more interesting person. When I don't learn something new, I feel BORING. And I don't like that. I want to be DAZZLING and full of SPARKLING bon mots!
• We've been playing a lot of tabletop games. Betrayal at the House on the Hill is a favorite of this household. Forbidden Island is awesome (we need to also get Forbidden Desert). We've played a few versions of Timeline (We traded our copy of American History to Mom and Dad C, since that's the one that Mom C likes best. And she had accidentally ordered the Historical Events (world history) version, which she didn't like as much. So we traded. And we also ordered a new copy of the American History version. Since it's fun. And it helps the kids to learn, too. While having fun). ... Gloom is good. We have a couple versions of Fluxx. I splurged on Pandemic (and my mom actually liked that one, though we've yet to play an episode that we've actually won. lol.) ... Yeah, the family that plays together, stays together.
• We've cleaned the house a lot. Especially the kids' bedroom. Oy and vey, let me tell you. But they're doing a lot better on it. 
• The kids were grounded for just about forever ... tablet/honesty issues ... I keep hoping that we're past that. We'll see.

Okay, that's most of what all I can really remember to blog about. I mean, I did get to help chaperone their class field trip the last week of school ... and that was fun. I had a blast goofing off with some of the other moms. Good times, right?

We've gone to the pool a bit ... which is why I have gotten sunburns (well, that and a picnic lunch we had at a historical flour mill in the area).

Oh ... did I mention that I had cut off SO MUCH of my hair? I was TIRED of, when washing it, it feeling like STRAW and GROSS ... so almost all the colored bits are gone. It was a pixie cut ... it's growing out a lot, almost to a bob now. And I have a few blonde highlights left. I lost the last of the purple (it had faded to a whisper of lavender by the end). And I have nearly all virgin hair for the first time in DECADES. It's kind of weird. That and you can see, if you look closely, my greys at my temples (and in my eyebrows, if I don't pluck those).

But, yeah ... and I'm wearing a lot more leggings/jeggings. Even when you can see my dangly tummy through it. Because, dang it, I'm 35-friggin-years-old. I want to be comfortable.

So, yes, I'm crotchety in my old age. And in need of more naps. ^_^

Anything that I've left out?

My Dreams ... as I've just bleared awake

I remember having two dreams.

In one, we needed to stay somewhere ... and I found a recommendation for a hotel from extended family.

And, well, it was a VERY nice hotel. Like there was a full kitchen (with red enameled appliances -- like the fridge and a european-styled gas range, etc, etc.) and lovely carpeting.

And we needed to go on a trip. But we also had some other family there, who needed the cars so THEY could get around.
We would have all been able to fit them into the cars, except they had brought two friends, so with children and carseats, there wasn't room. So we were going to rent a motorcycle. And I said that there were three of us in the family, then amended that to four, since we needed to rent a child-sized helmet for Bubbles for the motorcycle (which had little partitions built into the seat, rather like in some rollercoasters).

And there was a dog that was sitting on some supplies behind the desk...

No, there was a third dream that came in the middle.

I was a spy? or something. But I was sneaking about, trying to look totally harmless and NOT suspicious. And I was a lot younger and thinner. And I was attempting to do my job with food poisoning, so I'm trying to evade the Secret Service while SEARCHING for the bathrooms ... which were lovely bathrooms, by the by.

And I was then trying to creep through a farm-animal building, like at the county fairs, and (accurately) blame the murder on the donkey (by donning multiple disguises and testifying to the police at each opportunity that, no, the donkey did it.
(At one point, I dressed up as a little boy, like Gary Coleman. I was very convincing. They suspected nothing.)

Then I dreamed that I woke up to my Bret-bro (one of my friends from high school. We adopted each other.) calling me. And I'm trying to blear awake enough to be coherent on the phone. And then, dressed all in black, Michael is back from work, since his back is hurting so badly ... and I'm trying to do acupressure on his back while still blearing awake and chatting with Bret. (I wasn't doing a very good job).

I was a little surprised to find myself waking up.
But rather glad that we don't have to pay the bill for the very nice hotel. I don't think we could have afforded it.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is a glimpse into my subconscious.

A slice and some crazy dreams

So, yeah, it's been another week since I last regaled you with my WILDLY EXCITING life.

Sorry if the dripping sarcasm got onto your keyboard (Did I mention that I recently had to be a new keyboard? My "h" key stopped working. It was really weird. And frustrating. There's only so much that autocorrect can do, really ...)

Bruise and Bucket had their Fall Strings rehearsal and concert ... which meant that Bruise missed TWO Cub Scout meetings, poor guy (Bucket managed not to miss ANY, since her group of Activity girls meets towards that middle of the month, instead of the last and first weeks of any given month).

I've had the bigger kids helping a bit more around the house. They're washing clothes and getting them through the dryer. I need to get them to continue to clean their frakking room. And to LOAD the dishwasher, too. But, hey, anything is a bit of improvement, right?

I'm enjoying the electric kettle that my stepmom-but-not-by-law (my dad's long-term girlfriend ... but they've been together for over a decade ... so SHOULD I just call her my stepmom? I don't know) sent up to me after I mentioned that I'd been wanting one for a while (I'll admit that it makes tea-making much easier (tisanes, really, since they're not black/green/white tea. It's rooibos or herbal teas, aka tisanes ... but you already look bored, so I'll shut up about that).

Last night, after the concert, Michael and I sat down to watch an episode or two of The Vicar of Dibley (Dawn French is hilarious, by the by), and I did one of those little Pinterest-y crafts of wrapping my phone's charging cord with embroidery silks. It turned out pretty cute. And I'll be able to tell it from my tablet's micro-USB cord at a glance now. (Though I'll wrap THAT one later, with different colors and with a different stitch (the knotted method, where the knots end up spiraling around the cord), so I can tell the difference even in the dark! Check out my master plan! I know you're totally impressed and amazed. Go ahead and nominate me for a Nobel prize. Just rememd me that you've done it so that I can be sure to thank you in my acceptance speech. ;P

I also bought some of that pretty elastic cord from Wal-Mart ... used some to make a few hair ties (all you have to do it cut a piece big enough, then tie a knot in it. It's the perfect craft for anyone (1) with opposable thumbs (2) who knows anyone with long enough hair that might warrant tying up said hair).

I go back and forth in being absolutely gung-ho on being prepared for teaching my Sunday School class and reading in advance for Gospel Doctrine (even though I can't attend, since I'm teaching my own Sunday School class) and Relief Society (which, naturally, involved buying new highlighters and some awesome washi tape for the cute handouts ... when I'm not gluing them into my scriptures, that is) ... and NOT. I mean, I'm still working to actually prepare ... but it's a more almost-by-the-seat-of-my-pants way.

I've been reading the holds that have come in on my Overdrive (library) e-book app. I've been reading some library books. I'm trying to get our house NOT to smell like the catbox (There was an AWESOME deal on TidyCat litter on Amazon. I'm actually rather glad now that I only ordered the one 27-pound bin of it. It's not as great with the odor as either Arm and Hammer or the Walmart brand (what is it? Something twee ... "Special Kitty," I think? Whatever the name is, it's not too dearly-priced and WORKS).

My stepmom (or whatever) called yesterday, since she couldn't get into her email ... to see if I knew her password for that account.
(Yes. She had told me a mnemonic ... which is stuck in my head ... so I was the golden child who EARNED that electric kettle. ^_^  ... Especially since I woke up from a doze to answer the phone. Go me.)

Monday, (yes, I know, I'm totes jumping around this last week. Wibbley-wobbley, timey-wimey ...) the kids and I ended up doing a little Valentine craft.
Word to the not-so-wise (like moi): If you have a hole-punch, USE IT. If you choose not to, you could end up giving a finger a bit of a slice if your scissors slip.

Also, it's nice when your older daughter is quite decent around blood. She helped me to get a band-aid on it. And, when I bled through THAT, to rewrap the cut ... and, once the bleeding stopped, to put new band-aids on it. She could be a nurse. She was quite calm and competent (even if she didn't know where everything was. Not her fault).

I have had a bunch of weird dreams.

Monday, I woke up shortly after Michael left for work (or else I'd have snuggled with him a bit) after having a zombie-infested dream. I was (much smaller/skinnier) and had to first wrestle a VERY overweight female zombie (with a HUGE goiter) and throw her out of a window of the abandoned-ish house I was taking shelter in.
Then, I was with a few other people. I was hoping that, since I was wearing some purple latex gloves, that the goiter-zombie's bite on my hand wouldn't do anything.
There was a little kid who got bitten by a virus-frog ... a little red frog (like a poison-dart frog) with yellow hindquarters, but with teeth and would spread the zombie-virus. So I had to chase that little son-of-a-bee-sting (the frog, not the possibly-infected child) about and stomp it before it could infect the rest of everyone. And the little kid ran over to the carpet that the frog got smashed on and started to play in the little blood puddle.
And the little kid, later was lying on her/his back ... and this kid is maybe two-ish?
And the kid start spouting out, "You know, the eggs that you cooked at 8 am were fine. But the ones that you cooked at 10:30 were ****."
And I was like, "One, you're too young to be talking so well. And, TWO, you're too young to know such language. That's wildly inappropriate."
And then I woke up.

Last night, I had a few dreams. The one that woke me up had me driving with Michael. And I couldn't stop the van soon enough -- because the brakes weren't responsive enough, and I ended up running through a red light into the left-turn lane and driving through THAT red light (to go straight) ... and a motorcycle cop pulled me over and informed me that he was taking me to JAIL. And I was freaking out. "I can't stay overnight in JAIL! If I'm in JAIL, I CAN'T DONATE BLOOD!"
And, yeah, there was the stuff about not being able to volunteer in the kids' schools and stuff ... but I REALLY was worried about not being able to donate blood.
Enough so that, as Michael was kissing me goodbye, I had to ask if it was normal procedure to be arrested for a traffic mishaps ("Not unless there are outstanding warrants, no." ... SO, since I paid that ridiculously-expensive ticket back in 2014, I should be fine.)

I also had a dream about the no-longer-friend. Someone had brought up her Instagram page (which had this bright background and was more like a picture-blog or MySpace than Instagram, but bear with me), and she had a picture posted that involved me, described as a sister-friend, and linked to an audio clip of me, Michael, and his brother, C, as we made pirate jokes and I launched off into a rather-clever (It's my dream. I can be clever if I want to!) monologue rife with pirate puns.

At first I was a little sad, since if she liked me and what I do/say so much, why aren't we friends anymore? ... Then I was a little creeped out because, in my dream, when that conversation took place, she wasn't anywhere near to record that. So, either someone recorded it and sent her a copy or stranger things are afoot.

Dreams are weird.
Especially my dreams.
Either I don't really have "normal" dreams ... or I just don't remember them well.
I mean, I do recall that I've had the naked-at-school dream (like ONCE) and the flying dream (again, like, ONCE) ... but then I have the fighting-an-invisible-ninja-lord-(and-having-my-butt-handed-to-me) dream. Or getting in trouble and being most upset because I won't be eligible to donate blood to the Red Cross anymore. Or I'm shopping and I find something AMAZING ... then I'm all disappointed when I wake up because that was an awesome thing and I DO NOT have it in real life kind of dreams.

But, yeah.

Wow, I suck at keeping this updated ...

Good thing you still love me, right?

I couldn't sleep last night.
I'm sure it had NOTHING AT ALL to do with the fact that I had two HUGE cups of Dr. Pepper when we went to McDonald's yesterday. (My mom came up, since it was a no-school day.)
Of course, after I finished the ebook I'd checked out on my library app, I checked our bank balance.
And FINALLY Michael's paycheck came through before any overdrafts (way to cut it close, right?) ...

Still, it was pretty frustrating, since he is supposed to get paid on the1st and the 16th ... and this is the NINETEENTH DAY of the month. I thought that direct deposits were, you know, scheduled in advance and all that  ... but, yeah, whatever.

I hate adulting sometimes.
Especially when you don't have tons of liquid assets (that you THOUGHT you'd have) the morning of your twins' birthday party.
(Good thing it was a small, family party ... They'll get together with friends ... sometime. Especially since one of their friends doesn't celebrate birthdays, so she couldn't come to a BIRTHDAY-thing ... but she COULD come to a playdate-thing, I'd hope.)

But, yes, tender mercies of the Lord: =No overdrafts. (phew.) We had cash that covered (and had some leftover) lunch for us, cake and ice cream and drinks (and plates, napkins, and cups). We had enough food in the house to cover meals without scrimping. Our bread wasn't moldy. The milk hadn't gone sour. (And, even if it HAD, Bubbles is still receiving WIC, so that's nice).

I came to a conclusion, which I wasn't thrilled about ...
Michael and I keep thinking about (someday) building our "dream home" and what we want in it.
We go about this VERY DIFFERENT WAYS.
His way = design a floorplan. Ask me if I like it and what I'd prefer to see. I waffle on the whole thing.
My way = Create a Pinterest board. On it exist NO floorplans. Rather, it's filled with ideas for decorating and organizing. Or cool ideas to integrate INTO rooms. Again, not what Michael had in mind when I told him about that board.

SO, as I was thinking (in the shower, since that's where I do my best thinking for the most part nowadays), I realized that a big reason that I haven't planned on designing actual SPACES (besides my crack spatial skillz /sarcasm) is because deep down, I'm scared that we'll never have the money to actually DO it. And that realization ticks me off, since it feels like, in a way, I'm doubting my husband and his ability to provide for us ... which is stupid. And I DON'T LIKE doing stupid things.

Last week, I was crap at studying (let alone READING) my scriptures. I need to do it. I KNOW I need it. I have a class to prepare for, let alone that it's a GOOD thing that we've been COMMANDED to do.
This week has been better so far.
After church, I holed up in our room for a couple hours -- changed the sheets, looked at the lessons to be covered, read through next week's Relief Society lesson, caught up in the BoM365 (read the Book of Mormon in a year) schedule ... It was nice. I felt productive.
Yesterday morning, since I wasn't in any rush to get dressed or whatever, I started looking through the lesson I'll be teaching in RS in a couple months (Originally, it was going to be lesson 5, about Joseph Smith. BUT, due to needing to reschedule things due to a Stake Broadcast added into the calendar, I'm now teaching the lesson about the Atonement and Resurrection. It's a great lesson (not that the JS one wasn't ... but I like this one a lot and am not at all upset that I get to teach it)) and I read a conference talk, since I do need to go through those a few times (I didn't highlight in my November Ensign yet. Later).

I do need to work on saying sincere prayers ... and having formal, little prayers ... as opposed to just little statements of gratitude or what I need. Prayer is more of a conversation with our Heavenly Father, so said our High Council speaker on Sunday. It's not like text messaging (that's what I'm telling myself).

I'm still having dreams, every so often, about that bestie who's dropped out of my life.
I mean, yeah, I still miss her. But ... well, in my dreams, she's always ignoring my presence or trying to actively avoid me. And, usually, I find her and tell her point blank that I still love her, that I miss her, that I hope for the best for her.

They're not the most happy-making of dreams. But, at the same time, I'm not sobbing or irate or whatever else when I wake up. So ... yeah.

I'm enjoying my new class of students (in church, you usually change classes based on your birth year. So, I have all the students who are starting 2016 as 12- or 13-year-olds. I had a lot of students (all but one, actually) during that last quarter of 2015 who had or would turn 14 before January 1st.
I miss my old class, yes ... but I'm having fun getting to know a new bunch (and making sure that I get everyone's names right).
The Sunday before (being the 10th), tradition continued ... in that I had another adult join my class (usually for observation. It's enough to make a girl nervous!). So far, I've had our Ward Sunday School President (who's a friend, so that's not so nerve-wracking), the STAKE PRESIDENT (a little more nerve-wracking, though I know him and I know that he's not scary ... You make a joke about going onstage in your nudie-pants, and realize that the Stake Prez is in the room and HAD to have heard you ... and you apologize ... and he tells you that it's okay ... Yeah, one has to admit to oneself that he's not going to be shocked by anything else you do. So that's out of the way. Yay?), a friend who was visiting your ward for the day (I practically dragged her to class, so I happily brought that upon myself), the bishop, one of the members of the bishopric, ... and now the STAKE SUNAY SCHOOL PRESIDENT (who I didn't know at all).
So that was kind of ... nerve-wracking.
But he said that I did fine.
In fact, my Ward Sunday School Prez reported to me on Sunday that (1) he didn't have anyone lined up to observe my class (That's fine. I told him. Next week. It's tradition!) and (2) that Brother ___ was impressed with my teaching.

So, that's nice. Because Brother ____ sure didn't have to say that. ^_^
I guess it's a good thing that I brought a handout for the class. And that I printed up strips with the scriptures to read on them. And that I tell my students about great resources to help their scripture study. Because if there's one thing I love (besides the gospel, since I do love it bunches. And my family, ditto), it's books. Or knowledge available on the interwebz.

I know there's more to report about. but my hands are tired of typing. I'll do more later.
But sooner than a month from now.

It's too early for attempts at clever titles

A few days ago, I had a crazy/creepy dream.

In it, there was a bookstore (good thing), but the girl who worked there had noticed something odd while she was closing up by herself (it was a BIG, like two-storied at least, with an elevator, building. Seemed rather historical-type of building). She had dropped a pile of her books and ran out, coming to me and some dark-haired guy for help.

We were debating on waiting until it was daytime again to go back, when Bubbles took off and RAN into the building. So, then, OF COURSE we had to go and get her ... might as well get those books while we're in there.

We went up to the floor where the books had been dropped.
For some reason, we ended up sitting at this HUGE, HEAVY wooden table ... and started taking pictures with our phones. As I took a selfie, I noticed that there were a couple statues behind me.
One was a fisherman in a blue hat. The other was some grey female-type statue.

Kind of like this. But in color, without the plaque or wheel.
And, like, ten-trillion times creepier.

As I took a couple more selfies (you know, so that you can guarantee a good shot, you take a handful right after each other), I noticed that the statues were ... getting closer. And the fisherman had this REALLY CREEPY smile on his face, like almost ripping his face in two, it was such a big smile.

I turned around to glance at the statues, since that couldn't be real. Statues don't move. Not that faxt and without help.

And I found myself faced with the statues, which, had indeed moved.

I jumped up, somehow jetting over to the other side of the table (putting the table in between us and the statues), and ... well, I exorcised them in Jesus's name.
And they did stop moving.

And we grabbed up the books, Bubbles, and ourselves and RAN THE HECK OUT of the building.

So... apparently, if The Doctor won't show up, I take matters into my own hands.

But I ended up wide-awake, not wanting to take the chance at closing my eyes, at 3:30AM one day this week.
So I then snuggled into Michael and grabbed the cat. And managed to go back to sleep.

Crazy Dream Chronicle: Memoriam Sweater

A couple nights ago, I dreamed.

And it was a strange dream (obvs, since I remembered it, right?) ... In it, I was at my mom's house-but-not ... and we were doing laundry. LOTS of laundry [Art imitates life imitating art, yes?].

And ... well, we needed to get a sweater washed and dried. For my friend's brother. Because he was sick. Like bad cold/fevered/stuck in bed shivering-type sick.

In real life, he was murdered back in 2007. Both the boys who killed him are in prison (sentenced for life, but up for parole after 25 years ... so, in another 15-16 years or so).

...

But, in my dream, he was alive.
I wasn't the closest of friends with him.

He was the first guy (besides one of the sons of a lady who watched me when I was little ... and he doesn't count) to ask me out.

I was too young ... and I knew that it wouldn't be fair to date someone I wasn't really into (Should have remembered THAT when I started dating my first boyfriend. But, well, that would have been SMART. And I wasn't really being super-intelligent right then. *sigh*).

I mean, if I had been his girlfriend, I'd have gotten a nice macaroni necklace ...

Again, not a good enough reason to be someone's junior-high girlfriend.

...

The worst thing about living is outliving other people.
Especially people who go so early.

I mean, I know that there are reasons ... reasons we don't understand ... and that by enduring these things, we learn and grow and all ...

... but it doesn't make it any less sucky, really.

His poor family, though. They took it really hard. Not that I can blame them. There were only the four of them ... and Kevin disappeared ... and was found murdered.
He and his sister, my friend, were quite close ... so it was even more devastating.

I remember when he went missing. She called (she was stationed out of state) ... and she was pretty panicked. I did my best to calm her down ... and I hoped and prayed that maybe he was just being horribly irresponsible and just headed off to Vegas or something on a wild hair and just forgot to call anyone ...

... That would have been a million times better, really. His cat would have forgiven him. So would the rest of us. Because doing something selfish and a little stupid would have been so much better.

But, yeah. So, he was in my dream. And I was scuttling about, trying to help find that sweater ... or to get it washed and dried if it wasn't already.

... It's strange to think of how many people from my high school that I've outlived. Since I'm not horribly old. Yet.
But, at the same time, it's ... sad ... to know of so many people who've been murdered, who've committed suicide, or who died in car crashes.

I suppose it's not too surprising that I think about these things ... since (1) I'm kinda morbid anyways and [evidence: fan of The Walking Dead, reads Stephen King, enjoys creepypasta, etc.] (2) we did just get through Halloween and Dia de los Muertos.

I remember reading an article about how we keep the dead with us ... how we think of them and remember them ... so that they are still around, still affecting us ... It's a comforting thought.

And there's another article I read about how we keep memorials and objects to remind us of those who've passed ... like how I have a lot of my Grandma's books and jewelry ... and how I treasure some of the jewelry that my mom's stepmom passed on to me as presents from her collection before she passed. Or how I have a journal of my Pop-pop (and, apparently, journaling skills ... or, really, the lack thereof, IS a family trait. :P) ... and how I find it very hard to part with things that folks give me after they're no longer around (like a pull-up bar that Michael's grandfolks gave us. We don't use it often ... but I hate the idea of not having is because it was Grandpa C's).

And here I am, surrounded by clutter (of my own devising ... well, with some help from the munchkin-brigade. LOTS of help from the munchkin-brigade) and half-sick of shadows.

Still, I really don't like losing people. Not only temporarily ... and I know that death is just this temporary thing. But I still dislike that separation.
There are times when I miss my Grandma or Pop-pop or Grandpa C so hard that it feels like a blow to the gut ... and I'd give just about anything to be able to hear their voices and have a conversation with them again.

I don't know why I take this separation so dang hard ... you'd think I had abandonment issues or something (which would explain that ... but I don't really have anything to pin that on, besides my parents' not-very-messy divorce. Truly, my childhood was pretty idyllic).

I don't know how much or how often those have passed get to observe the living ... but, sometimes, I'll chat a little at Pop-pop or Grandma D or a friend who've passed. I'm sure they don't mind that I remember them and are thinking of them and miss them bunches.

If they talk back, I don't really hear it. But it comforts me ... and that's reason enough, right?
Cheaper and less harmful than drugs.

Yeah, you usually don't get such an introspective and maudlin post from me, the queen of levity ... but, well, there you go.

MOAR crazy Dream Chronicles! Lucky you!

Yeah, I'm only remembering bits and pieces of my dreams ... but they're sure ... special.

The other night, in my dream, I started out with Bubbles and I driving around a college campus (could have been my alma mater, but it was MUCH larger). And they'd moved the mailboxes OUTSIDE the building. And I had a key that fit ... so I was all, "Hey, I could always have stuff shipped here and pick it up for free!" (Must have been a holdover from reading Ready Player One with Michael.)

THEN, the other part of my dream had me as, like, idk, an adjunct professor ... but I had finished up my term, so I was going to be leaving.
And the building we were in was haunted. By this TALL, strapping, red-headed Viking of a ghost. And he got one of the other professors to jump off the building (her red tartan-print dressed, broken body was still on the pavement below). And I was leaving the building and he took this goodbye-present handleless mug of mine and BROKE it. (Not that it was a huge deal. Since we have a BAZILLION mugs [who doesn't?] AND it wasn't my style anyways.) But I was irked by the PRINCIPLE of the thing. Ill-mannered, murdering ghost.

LAST night's dream was ... odd ... because, OF COURSE it was.

So, here's the deal. IRL, I have written a skit for my son's Cub Scout group. And, since last meeting was passing out flyers for a food drive (they ended up collecting over 100lbs of food!), there was NOT time to even have the boys read the script.

SO, TOMORROW, his den is meeting early so I can (1) pass out scripts, (2) assign roles, (3) have the boys run through it a couple times, and (4) go soak my head.
Mostly kidding on that last one. But I haven't had much practice directing things. I usually just act or sing. Or help with props/makeup/costuming (but not so much on that LAST one in THAT list).

I'm just hoping that it'll go well and that we'll HAVE five boys to play all the parts ... if not, well, It could end up being a Bruise production with starring roles from his Scout leaders, parents, and twin sister. We'll see ... But, apparently, I'm a little worried about the whole thing ...

So, in my dream, one of our past sister missionaries was throwing a huge dramatic spectacle. And, last minute, I was given a script. I didn't have my lines down at all ... and I hadn't really even had time to read over my part(s). And there was some serious swear words ... so I'm taking liberties and editing them out ... because (1) swearing is something that I've worked VERY HARD to not do nearly so much (Srsly, y'all -- my sophomore year of high school, I was SUCH a potty-mouth. Sailors and truckers would have blanched. So my use of "craps," "damns," and "hells" is a TOTAL improvement. Just so you know.) and (2) IT WAS AT CHURCH. You can't say scatalogical terms of THAT kind at church. Because that's Jesus's house.

And then, the other scene I was in, I dropped my script and LOST MY PLACE and couldn't find it ... and so I was having to make up lyrics to some rock song that I'd only caught a wee glimpse of ... so I'm writhing on the floor, turning in horizontal circles on my back, mic in hand, as I try to channel Freddie Mercury at his glammest and maybe a soupçon of Stevie Nicks, as I'm MAKING UP LYRICS and hoping that the returned sister missionary won't be too put out that I'm ruining her script.

Okay, so I can get that maybe that rock-star element of my dream is because on Facebook folks were complimenting my Jem! costume from around six years ago. My wig and makeup were awesome, if I do say so myself ... the rest of the costume could have gone better.
If I make it again, I know a lot of things to improve.
But it's not going to be this year, since there's only a few days until Halloween. And I don't have a costume at all. *sigh* I don't even know what to attempt to dress as.

In other non-dream-related news, I've passed sixth-grade math on Khan Academy. I did a load of dishes. We had soup for dinner last night. We went to the library's Halloween shindig (and ran into Michael's cousin and his family there ^_^). And I sent a Facebook message to the (ex?) friend who had unfriended me.
I let her know that I noticed we weren't Facebook friends anymore. And that I understood that it could be a glitch (not terribly likely) or that it could have not. But that I wished the best for her, even if that meant that I wasn't friends with her anymore. And that if there had been anything that I had done or said that had hurt or offended her, that it wasn't done purposefully ... and that I was sorry if I had hurt or offended her.

As my mom said, either she'll respond to it or not. And, if she writes back, there's an answer. If she doesn't, there's another answer.

The ball is in her court. And that's ... a little ... nerve-wracking. But, well, it felt insincere to pretend that I didn't notice the change in our friendship. I get that people grow apart ... but, well, when you've been really tight friends, it seems more direct to let the other person know that you're choosing to unfriend them. It'd be kind to let them know why ... even a "we've grown apart" or something.
I've unfriended some folks on facebook ... but they were (pretty much) strangers who we had friended each other for facebook games that I wasn't playing anymore. That's a bit different, right?

I've almost got Bruise's shirt done for Halloween. It's the main part of his costume (the rest is a certain pair of jeans (I should make sure those are in the wash) and trainers). I should make a clasp for Bucket's cloak. Bubbles's costume is all storebought ... and, well, we did pick up about the perfect pair of Crocs for her to wear with it (SPARKLY TEAL, Y'ALL. TEAL. AND SPARKLES. Can you tell that I'm a little jealous?), so her's is all taken care of.

So, yeah. I should check on Bruise's shirt ... do the last bits of paint on it. Get a shower. Do more laundry. Drink a buttload of water (doing this week-long water challenge. Michael's doing it, too. We're only drinking water as our beverage this week. And we're SUPPOSED to be drinking (bodyweight/2) in ounces. ... This is the third day in ... and man I suck at drinking enough water. Sunday, got nearly 3/4 of the suggested amount. Yesterday, I didn't even get one-third. *sigh*).

And I'm working at getting through library books ... physical AND online (Overdrive is a great app. you can use it to read books [e-books or audiobooks] on your phone or tablet, borrowed through your library ... well, if your library is part of it. Or, you could do the free ones that are available to everyone and don't count against how many books you can check out. You're limited to six holds at a time ... and TWO hold came in within a day of each other. And you only get them for 14 days. *sigh* I mean, you can check them out again, if there's not a hold on them, of course .....)

But, yeah. Busy girl.
Who also needs to read her scriptures and plan her lesson (which HOPEFULLY won't be observed by the STAKE PRESIDENT next week. Don't get me wrong, I love our Stake President ... but, well, that's a little stressful to be observed. Especially when I COULD AND SHOULD have been a bit better prepared ... and, bless them, but my class was VERY excitable. So it was interesting making sure that we focused and refocused their attention on the topic of showing Christlike love to others. But I was able to tell them about how the Young Women Theme, this month's Relief Society lesson, and the overall goal of "The Power of Everyday Missionaries" all integrate that theme ... and they had some great insights. And we discussed sharing our beliefs with others and HOW to do it best and HOW to show others, through our actions and words, how much Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them ... and President C did say that I did a great job, so it was a good lesson ... but a little stressful. ^_^) ... among another billion things that I should get done.

Dream Resolution (I originally wrote "Resolution Dream," but this ordering makes it sound more like Revolutionary Girl Utena. And you should always go for that. If you're me, at least.)

Last night, I dreamed again.

I was in some play/theatrical thing ... maybe something Shakespearian.

It was, apparently, some sort of presentation ...

But I was in it with another guy and girl.

I remember at one point thinking, "Oh! I should take off my [wedding] ring, since my character's not married. Whoops!"

And... something happened where EVERYONE, cast and audience, had to go out into the foyer.

I found myself standing next to, among the throng of people milling about, that friend who unfriended me on Facebook.

"Hi," I said to her.

She didn't really respond, but she did look at me.

"Hey," I said. "I don't know what I did that hurt you so much. But, whatever I did that I did that offended you and hurt you so badly, I want to apologize for it. I've never meant to hurt you. I love you and I want you to be happy. And I get that it might mean that I'm not a part of your life. But I do want to tell you that I'm sorry."

And she let me hug her. And we stood next to each other in the shoulder-to-shoulder line that was being formed.

And I feel more peaceful.
I wonder if I should send her a message ... just so that she knows that I don't really know what I've done ... but that I never have meant to cause her any pain. And, if I've done that, I never did it on purpose and I'm sorry that I took actions that ever caused her suffering.

I get that maybe she does need more time.
And that, very possibly, she'll never want to be as close as we used to be.
But I think that I'm ... okay ... again.

It never feels "good" or anything when you have someone turn from a BFF/sister-of-the-heart into someone-that-I-used-to-know. And, regardless of how another friend described the situation, I can't think of this (ex?-)friend as a frenemy ...

In other, completely unrelated news, I sewed a cloak for Bucket's Halloween costume. ALL BY MYSELF.

YES, I SHOULD have lined  it, hemmed it, whatever ... but it's made of felt and she wasn't picky.
And it's done.

Michael and I still need to finish Bruise's shirt for his costume ... that'll take some time and energy. At least we bought everything we'll need.

I'll need to make the clasp to hold Bucket's cloak closed. But, hey, at least Bubble's costume is all done. I even found a little stuffed animal for her to carry around with it, to complete her costume. Phew!

Okay, I should go take Bucket to her violin class soon.