Watch My Beer

I dreamed I was among a group of people walking around and around a large property. There was a cemetery at one end. We did not walk around that, although it was clearly part of the same property. In our effort to avoid it, we walked in random steps around every edge and structure. This led me to stop beside a retaining wall, where I shared a few words with Wilda. Her niece passed away earlier this week on what should have been her 42nd birthday.

In the next scene, I was on the other side of the retaining wall, in what appeared to be a storage area between rooms. It contained a round table with a couple of men seated at it. I set my jacket and a half full pitcher in an empty seat. Then I walked around to the opposite side, put my arms around Him from behind, and whispered into his ear, "watch my beer. You can have some, but don't let anyone else have any". He laughed that familiar laugh and said "I can have some, huh?". "Sure, dude", I said. "I'm going for a walk."

I REALLY do not know what this dream was all about.

Like a Boss

Right off the bat, let me mention that I found B's stash of porn DVDs. Not what I expected to find, and really not sure yet how to proceed. For now, waiting to see how he reacts when he notices they are missing.

Second, I (re)discovered that minimum wage customer service employees do not usually get their jobs because of their customer service skills, but because of their minimum wage abilities. Long story short, the roof guy had left some sample boards at his MIL's place of work because it was a convenient place for both of us. When I asked about them, it took several tries between two employees and myself to sort out that I did not expect them to unlock the pharmacy and give me drug samples for shingles, but that I was there to pick up some samples of shingles I was considering for my roof. Why they were locked in the pharmacy is mystery number one. Why employee number one thought employee number two was any smarter is mystery number two. Why they put a guy who keeps repeating that he suffers from short term memory loss on the cash register is mystery number three. If I will EVER get the roof redone is mystery number four, but that is a separate issue.

Third, trying to figure out why now, after a very long time, I cannot get someone off my mind. I didn't dream about him, but I did have a series of crazy dreams that kept waking me up, and when I did wake up to stay, there he was again. It's not a bad thing, thinking about him, just trying to sort out why now. I did a mental check of "triggers", but I could not care less about March Madness, I can't remember the last time I had a drink, and I am not feeling particularly vulnerable or melancholy.

In fact, while I am not exactly iron-clad, I am kind of rockin' it. I am getting more done around the house since I got put in charge. My new job is turning out to be pretty great.  I also have two contracts now for freelance work. It looks like spring might be on its way to stay. Other than the young son with the beginnings of an adult-sized porn collection, I am doing ok as a de facto single parent.

On a sad note, L seems to think the DVDs might have been John's. Can't return them to a person who no longer exists. Likewise with Jodie. What a strange winter, to have two peers almost my exact age pass away. We'll save the list of things that really suck for another day.

#selectivecaring #likeaboss @pollyanna

Banjo Music to Pee By

Yeah, I know that is a gratuitous title intended to screw with the search engines. It is also the best description I can come up with for the weird, piped-in music that was playing in the bathroom at work today.

Speaking of work, this has been the most annoying week in a while. Without going into details, let's just say that between the end-of-the-year fiscal stress, made worse by a boss who has no sense of organization or basic accounting, plus the political drama, made worse by too many bosses for one job, plus my need to get something completely different accomplished, made worse by the fact that my priority is not anyone else's priority, until it becomes their priority, it has been a doozy. And it's only Wednesday.

In the middle of this, I had a job interview yesterday. I am of course second-guessing some of my responses, but over all I am qualified and hopeful. We'll see.

At home is has been a quiet week - Monday was my 22nd anniversary, but there was no one here to celebrate it with, so pretty low key. B has been gone the last two weeks, and this week until I don't know when. So just the twins and I, hanging out, messing with the garden, piddling at projects when it's not too hot, avoiding the pesky neighbor kid.

Speaking of pesky neighbor kid, he is actually a lot better, but still pretty annoying. I have figured out how to get him to behave most of the time. One, ask him nicely. Two, explain that since asking nicely didn't work, I will have to get "official". Three, pretend to write on a piece of paper. Four, get my phone. About the time I click on the camera icon and point it at him, he gets a scared look on his face and takes of for home. He'll figure it ou eventually and I'll have to try something else, but for now it works :)

Not much else is new. Garden is not impressive, but the kids are enjoying it. Mike came and finished the woodwork in the boys' room, I am almost done sanding the possum belly cabinet. Next up is to paint the trim, add the top to the cabinet, and then decide on either a sewing project (indoors, but something I have to be in the mood for), or another refinishing project (enjoyable, unless it continues to get hotter). Again, we'll see.

Next week of course is the 4th of July, but no plans as of yet.

Better go, time to get the twins ready for bed. They are going to Jump Zone tomorrow.

Fragrant Dreams

Another weird dream last night. I have been trying to remember how to tell it in a linear fashion, but I can only come up with bits and pieces with recurring elements, but no overarching story line. Some of what I can remember:

• We seemed to live in a normal neighborhood, although everyone was extremely familiar with each other, from knowing our dog's name, to thinking nothing of walking in to each others back yards, to having heard a funny story about one of my children before I did. A little discomfiting.
• A bunch of us went to some kind of event that seemed to be a combination of street fair, movie-set Main Street, and staging area for an excursion of some kind. At some point, we took a detour to the back lot, where we saw the "seamy underbelly of a small town festival", and where I got separated from my family.
• Then suddenly my "guide" and I were back in some kind of shopping center, where he encouraged me to make a life-size Grinch at the the Build-a-Bear kiosk. I declined.
• Then we were back in the staging area, where the tour staff where sorting out each families' belongings, which had gotten all muddled up after unloading from their excursions (ours seemed to include a duck boat). Again, very discomfiting, because that level of familiarity meant that people were not only looking for their own items, they were so helpful in pointing out that basket of dirty laundry must belong to so and so, and recognizing that striped towel as belonging to the Ketterman boy. By this point I did not like some of my neighbors so much anymore.
• The guy who had been my guide seemed to be laughing at my discomfort with the whole scene, but then he must have took mercy, because he gave me a little hug as he handed me a duffle bag and pointed out where my family was.
• I remember that he was wearing a light blue polo shirt and that he was very fit. When he hugged me, he smelled awesome. I waved to L, and then turned back to give the guy another big hug just so I could sniff him some more.
• Then I met up with my family and we went home to have a backyard barbecue.

Wacky Wednesday

Not sure why, but it seems like the weirdest day of the week is always Wednesday. This week was no different, although I am just now getting around to jotting it down. On Wednesday of this week:

* I saw a homeless guy, which is not that weird. He was sitting on a bench, with his shoes beside him, which is probably also not that weird. But, and here is the weird to me part, he was sniffing his sock. As if it might not smell as bad as the rest of him? To wake himself up? Because he liked it? Weird.

* The top news story on my home page was about pictures of Princess Kate in a bikini. The headline read "Princess Kate Bikini Pics". The jump read "And curly, too". The link led to an article that showed no pictures, and explained that her hair is normally curly, not straight. I think the copywriter must have been trying to generate interest in a story that wasn't really a story. But am I the one who is weird for thinking this article was headed in a whole different direction?

* At the top of this blog you will notice a button that says "Next Blog". If you click on it, it will take you to the, yep, you guessed it, next blog hosted by blogger and with permission to share in this way. Sometimes when I am bored, I click on it just to see where it goes. I have found a few interesting blogs this way, but mostly I find either blogs that haven't been updated in three years, family blogs, or blogs in a foreign language. After a certain point, I usually get caught in a loop of blogs that share a theme that doesn't interest me at all (cancer, religion, crafting) and I quit. Well Wednesday, as I was clicking through, I landed on a blog by a woman who has a spanking fetish. It led to another, and another, and so on. I quit after a couple of tries that led to more of exactly the same. I don't know what is weirdest about this to me - that some people actually like to be spanked just to be spanked, that there are so many blogs and sites dedicated to this topic, or how I came to land there. The feature is interesting in theory, but it doesn't seem to work in either of the ways that makes sense - either totally random, meaning one site has nothing to do with the previous site, or where one site does lead to the next one for a reason. In which case, why does my blog always lead to someone with no life, a terminal life, or a wacky sex life?

Welcome to F*&#ing 2013

This has been one of those weeks where both nothing and some of everything has happened. As early as Monday I knew the week would probably be a bust because my boss's dad passed away and she was going to be quite distracted. Then we had FHE, which went slightly better than last week. We talked about working together and how, when everyone does their part, everyone receives the reward/blessing. Plans for a garden continue, and the brownies were good. Then Tuesday, the weather got dicey, so I left work at 11:15 after only two hours. I made it home ahead of most of the traffic and before the ice and snow accumulated too much. School started at 10:00 on Wednesday, so I got to work later then usual. Thursday, I was off to take B to the orthodontist. He got his bottom braces put on and was not a happy camper about it. Then last night, we saw some real action.

Wednesday night, I saw a rat run through the house, but I couldn't figure out where it went, and the dog didn't seem too concerned. Then Thursday morning, he appeared to have it cornered. I left him to it, but the rat managed to escape. I bought traps and set them out, but didn't have a chance to tell anyone. So last night B, already more touchy than usual, headed to bed when I heard a ridiculous scream. I went in his room to find him almost in tears, and the rat peeking out from the top of the curtain. I got the broom and the dog, positioned B to direct the rat, told D, who was awake by now to hide his eyes, then whacked the curtain. All hell broke loose as the rat made for the door. The dog got him, and it was over fairly quickly. The limp rat got disposed of, and the dog got a treat to replace the one he had earned. I always look for signs of mice when the weather gets cold, when I get out Christmas decorations, etc. and I have not seen signs of mice or rodents, so I think it maybe got inside and couldn't figure out how to get away. Anyways, pretty sure it was a once-in-a-while kind of deal, but we'll all be a little creeped out for a few days. Nice to know the dog knows what is expected of him though :)

Then today, I noticed my van making a weird noise. It drove fine, so I headed to work. I was almost there when the transmission went out. So today, I left work early, again, to deal with that. It took all afternoon, but I have a rental car and permission to leave the car where it sits until Monday if needed. And I actually had plans for tomorrow that may or may not work out. It sort of depends on how/when the van can be retrieved. Then of course the decision about whether it can be fixed or if I will be in the market for a new car. I was hoping for one, but not until later in the spring, so we'll see how that goes. Not how my weekend, or my week for that matter was supposed to go at all.

The Weird Girl

I had a Goth phase. I cut all of my hair off, except for a long chunk at the front. I died all of it black, then added purple highlights to the bit in front. I am naturally pale anyway, but I used white-based makeup, accented by lots of black eye makeup and bright red lipstick. I only wore black, except for this funky purple cape-thing when it was very cold. I didn't have money for DMs, so I wore my black Converse high-tops. I wore them with everything, even skirts. I had my ears pierced five times. In the first two, I wore mismatched earrings, sometimes including a safety pin. In the next two, I wore normal earrings. In the one up high, I wore a small silver stud. I wore a lot of other jewelry too, mostly silver or black with weird things hanging from it. I have one picture of me from this time, but a good point of reference would be too google Robert Smith.

The Rules

So I am hanging out reading when D runs in the room with B right behind him, lightly punching him on the arm. "Stop hitting your brother", I say, but he keeps doing it. "He didn't call safety", says my eleven year-old, still tapping on my four year-old. "I don't care, STOP hitting him", I say. "He farted on his way through the room and didn't call safety or touch a door knob yet". I am thinking that I have never heard of this game, and I am guessing D hasn't either. I say as much to B, and reiterate my rule that if both people don't know and agree to the rules, it's the same as bullying and he needs to quit.

D is sniffling and looking at me, so I tell him to come on up and snuggle. We talk for a minute about how it's not nice to hit, or to expect someone to play a game without knowing the rules. "Yeah, and it's not nice to hit a little guy", he says pitifully. I agree and pat him some more. I am enjoying just lying there with him, knowing he isn't really hurt, when it occurs to me to ask "So...did you fart?".

He sits up, and his face does that thing it does, where it transforms from serious to a smirk to total grin. "Yeah". We both giggle a little and I get up too. I hold my arms out for him and say "Let's go get a fudgesicle".

Stupid Hat

So I am meeting my sister-in-law for a night out. I always have fun going out with her because she attracts interesting, creative people. We meet in a bar where everything is a shade of brown, so the whole place has a kind of 40's feel. At some point she pulls out a hat she has been making to show me. It is very, umm, interesting. It looks like something Lady Gaga might wear, as far as the construction of it. It is made of flexible wire wrapped in fabric. It is circular in shape, so it wants to keep folding up on itself. It sort of holds its shape as long as someone is wearing it, but then it folds itself back into a flat circle as soon as you take it off. The coolest thing about it is the fabric, which is a pale greyish pink silk. The whole thing is pretty feminine, except for the fact that wires keep poking me in the side of the head. I laid the hat down, but then when it came time to move on to another place, K freaked out that I wasn't wearing the hat. She insisted that I put it back on. It was raining out, and I tried to fold it back up and put it away, but she was adamant that I wear it (as if it was doing anything to keep the rain off). When we got to the next place, she was very upset with me. "How am I supposed to sell any hats if I can't even get you to wear one?" I was thinking, but didn't say, that it might help to sell a hat if it actually looked like a freakin' hat. Instead, I tried to humor her by wearing the flimsy pink covered spiral for the rest of the night as we went from place to place. Not the funnest time I have ever had with her, and probably the first time I was the weirdest member of her entourage.

Google the Clown

Never trust Google. I just found out that googling my name brings up the fact that I was kicked out of clown school. This is only partially true. I was actually kicked out of not one, but three different clown schools.

The first time was not my fault. I was young and impetuous. I did not understand the time commitment or the discipline that was expected of me when I wrote that check for $300 to the Clown College of the Ozarks. Even though I was asked to leave CCO, I did not give up my dream of being a clown.

After a couple of years of dead-end jobs, I finally saved enough money to go to a real clown college. But fortune was not on my side - I kept botching even the basics as I tried to develop my clown character. On the day we practiced walking in floppy shoes, I fell down and broke my jaw. It was OK that I couldn't talk, as that fit my character. But the next week when we introduced our characters, all the make-up and frizzy hair in the world didn't hide the head gear I had to wear.

The instructor decided I might be better as a sidekick. Trying to get on the good side of my clown team partners, I offered my car for practicing to see how many of us could fit. Unfortunately, a Fiat really is just made for two people - one to steer and one to push. All of those other clowns were just dead weight, but that didn't keep them from voting me off of Clown Island like some kind of loser.

In my third attempt, I decided maybe I was meant to be a sad clown instead. Problem was, people aren't supposed to laugh at a sad clown, and I kept doing things that made people laugh at me, just not in a good way. I finally decided to take what I had learned in clown school and apply it to a new career.

What did I have to work with? A nice collection of plaid jackets and colorful scarves. A court order to quit lurking around places where children gather. The ability to maintain the same expression, no matter what ridiculous sob story or hilarious excuse people came up with.

And that is how I came to work for the IRS.

Billy Goes to School

When I was in the 6^th grade, our teacher assigned us a show and tell project. This was no ordinary show and tell project. Over the next few months, each of us would be allowed to bring a pet to school. We would tell about the type of animal our pet was, and anything we wanted to tell about our pet in particular.

My presentation was months away. I had a dog. I wasn’t worried.

Over the next month, I realized that other kids had dogs too, and mine was nothing special. I really wanted my presentation to be special. I had a horse, but I doubted the school would allow me to bring a horse. My dad didn’t let us have indoor pets, so no hamster or turtle, and he despised cats. Other than a fat, lazy dog, who only knew one trick, what did I have?

I had Billy. Billy had silky black hair, and gentle brown eyes. He was fun and friendly and followed me everywhere. He would be a big hit.

That night, I asked my mom if she could bring Billy to school for my presentation. She asked when it was, and then said, “Sorry, I have to take your grandma to the doctor that day”. Yeah, right, Grandma goes to the doctor two, maybe three times a year. What are the odds she had to go on the same day as my presentation? But the odds were not in my favor. I would have to come up with another idea. I thought some more.

This was my first experience with the planning and logistics for a special event, and what an event it would be, if everything worked out. My plan hinged on three things: 1^st, my mom would have to be able to bring or take Billy to the school one way, if she couldn’t do both. 2^nd, a man named Dave would have to be willing to help. And 3^rd, the school would have to allow me to bring a goat to school. That’s right, Billy the Goat was going to school!

Believe it or not, the plan came together. On the day of my presentation, my mom loaded Billy in her Ford Bronco and dropped him off at the school. I knew he had arrived when we heard a commotion outside and someone saying, “OMG, a goat”.

Our school was long and narrow, with a covered breezeway along one side. In front of each entrance was a boot scraper. The boot scrapers were about this tall and this wide, with a strip along the bottom. I don’t recall ever using them for anything besides amateur gymnastics. I am pretty sure I had never seen one used as a hitching post for a goat.

When it was time for my presentation, the class gathered and went outside. Seems it was OK to bring a goat to school, but not in the school. I untied Billy and led him around while I told my classmates about goats. Then I let people pet him and ask questions. What does he eat? Everything. What does do? Not much, and no, he doesn’t know any tricks. Then I gave him some water and tied him up until it was time to go meet Dave.

Dave was what my parents referred to as a “hippy”. He was married to someone named Melody. She didn’t wear any makeup like the other moms did. They had a son. Most of the boys in my class had New Testament names, like David, and Steven, and Mark. Their son had an Old Testament name. Dave, Melody and Jonah could be seen driving around town in a green VW micro bus…when Dave and Melody were not behind the wheels of bright yellow public school buses. That’s right, Billy was riding the bus!

As we boarded the bus, it occurred to me that maybe Dave hadn’t actually asked for permission to let Billy ride. He motioned for us to sit right here, pointing at that seat no one likes. You know, the one right behind the driver where there is nobody to talk to, nothing to see, nothing to do except kick the panel between you and the back of the driver’s seat. “Keep him off of the seat and out of the aisle”, said Dave.

No problem. Billy was a pro. He didn’t try to hide under anyone’s seat. He didn’t bite anyone. He didn’t make a mess on the floor (unlike some people’s pets).

When I got home, I turned Billy loose. That night at dinner, my Dad asked how my project had gone. “OK”, I said. “What’s wrong? Will you get a good grade?” “Oh sure, it was all about the presentation. I did fine.”

Over the next few weeks, I sat through a few more presentations about dogs. I came to realize that Billy was no more special than an old dog. In fact, he was kind of a pain in the butt. He was meant to eat weeds and brush around our property. Instead, he mostly hung around the house, where he made a mess of the garbage and left hoof prints on my mom's car. But he was special in the fact that he was the only goat to visit our school, and got to ride the bus, no less!