Last Night's Weird Dreams

I had two dreams last night that I remember.

Dream 1:

The first was set in a U.S. city, not sure which and didn’t seem like Chicago. I was in a French restaurant (I was recently in France so this makes some sense.), and the proprietress announced to the diners she had a nearby property that would be perfectly suited for another French restaurant and she wanted one of us diners to do it. I raised my hand, “I will.” I promptly left on vacation to who knows where. During my vacation, I decided there was no feasible way for me to take on this project. I didn’t have the knowledge of French cooking, running a restaurant or the funds to do so. Upon my return, I stopped by to inform the proprietress of my decision, and she eagerly grabbed my arm, lead me a few doors down, and presented me with the property that she had renovated while I was away. It was almost finished, bright yellow, and very cute yellow and red curtains. “I suppose I could give it a try.” There were other people touring “my” restaurant at the time and a turned to a young woman asking, “Can you cook French food?” She said, “Of course!” “You’re hired!!!” I went outside to the front sidewalk where there was a chalkboard. I started filling in daily specials in French (I was just in France; I know a little French.) and, right then and there, wrote down the name of my new restaurant!

French, The Restaurant

(Dreamers note: A bit of information I discovered in France was that they are not very creative in their naming of buildings. They name it the exact words as the service it will provide. Not very clever at all. Hence the name of my new restaurant.)

Dream 2:

Someone has passed away, someone I know very well. Everyone I know is grief stricken. I am left alone in a room with someone with whom I am very angry. In a whisper hiss voice, I proceed to unload on this person ripping them for their selfish and inconsiderate behavior for how they treated someone else extremely important to me. This person knows where my allegiance stands. I was completely eloquent and thorough. Everything I said made perfect sense, in perfectly chosen words. And all of it was perfectly true. I woke up.

(Dreamer’s note: DELETED (by dreamer)) 

Random Thoughts Thursday: NaBloPoMo (Day...?)

When you decide to blog every day, there are going to be those where you are short on time, extremely busy and distracted.

Today is one of those days…

I heard a morsel of information this morning that I decided to take on faith. I am not going to “Google” or “Wiki” it so take the leap with me. 

Did you know that grasshoppers can only jump forward?  That means not sideways, or backwards. Be that grasshopper only moving forward. I like this. “Grasshoppers for $500 Alex”.

You know how I hate Costco, right? It’s not only the parking lot and crowds. Who doesn’t spend a freaking fortune on things they really don’t need? I ended up with a $210 bill when I only went in there for some pork tenderloin. I guess I needed a new puffy coat for this next Chicago winter. The Farmer’s Almanac says it’s going to be another doozy. 

I forgot to mention in my post about books yesterday that I am also listening to A Bollywood Affair. I’ll get back to you on the author. Little known fact about me… I love all things Bollywood especially the movies. This book, so far, is entertaining and light and exactly what I need for the car and walking to work.

Speaking of work, the fish need to be fed. And that’s my job.

WWW.Wednesday: What Are You Reading?

What are you reading?

WWW.Wednesday  is no longer a meme. And even though it’s been ages since I have blogged about reading, Wednesdays, in my mind, always pose the question…

What are you reading?

So nice of you to ask! I have so many books half-started. I should qualify this by telling you what I am actively reading. The Grownup by Gillian Flynn (who doesn’t know her?) and Slade House by David Mitchell. So I’m a little late to the Halloween party reading these horror-esque type novels. So what?

What have you recently finished?

Excommunicados by Charles Haverty. I have no idea how this book showed up on my doorstep. Truly. But thankfully it did, accompanied by another book whose title eludes me. Excommunicados is a short story collection published by University of Iowa Press. When I think of University of Iowa, I think of the prestigious Iowa Writer’s Workshop. Guess what? This book is outstanding. The stories are unique and compelling. The characters are flawed, big time, and struggle with life (who doesn't?) and what it all mean. I love that! Felt to me like stories written by Tom Barbash (one of my favorites) and Charles Baxter. I am a complete fan of the short story genre. Even if you are not, this might be one to change your mind. I highly recommend it.

What will you read next?

Oh, I don’t know. At some point, I need to give a giant tome called A Little Life a whirl. How about I tell you next week…

So what are you reading and recommending these days?

Sweet Baby Ray: NaBloPoMo Day 3

amazon.com

I am a quote lover and one that routinely comes into my mind has been attributed to Maya Angelou:

“I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled Christmas tree lights.”

Who hasn’t had any of these happen? Has anyone had a double up like me (lost luggage in the rain)?

For years, 26 of 'em, we’ve had a Christmas decorating routine. Hubby sets up the tree with my help. He puts on the lights because it’s prickly, and he does such a fabulous job hiding the wires. I hang the ornaments. In theory, it is a good plan.

Countless times when the kids were little, we would decorate the tree the day following hubby’s setup. Every time it seemed to me the branches needed the tiniest bit of tidying up before hanging the ornaments. Invariably, I’d get distracted and cut a wire shorting the whole tree. Darn it anyway!

Year after year, this would happen.

Year after year, hubby would go to OSCO for more lights to restring. (The following year he'd remind me not to trim. Do I listen?)

I truly applaud his patience and mild temperament because I probably would have expressed my frustration far less calmly. Just a helpful hint, hide behind a kid if this happens to you!

I’ve seen a multitude of veins almost bursting over lost luggage.

Carrying an umbrella is a must if you live in Chicago in the Springtime. Or Summer, and sometimes Winter.

If I may, I would like to add to Maya’s list. The accidental coverage in Sweet Baby Ray’s. Yes, this indeed happened to me on Sunday while tailgating before a football game at Soldier Field (Yes, the Bears STINK!!!).

I heard the gasp before reality sunk in. My shoes, socks and, fresh out of the dryer clean jeans were completely sauced in wet goo. It's a documented fact I hate to do laundry. 

The guy, who dropped the Costco sized container, felt horrible. I had to stop him from mopping off my pants.

All I could think to say was, 

“Hey, don’t worry about it. My dog will love me when I get home.”

As a bonus, I did score grilled shrimp, a beer, and a cupcake later.

Some things simply aren’t worth making a fuss over.

Am I? Am I not? #NaBloPoMo

The simplest answer is I don’t know yet. I have participated in NaBloPoMo, or National Blog Posting Month, for the last two years. 

In 2013, I even impressed myself by blogging each and every day. It was tiresome, yet extremely rewarding. I felt, it felt, good.

In 2014, I missed a few days, but was determined to take it in stride, and pick up where I left off. No harm, no foul. I blogged much more than anticipated. I felt happy. Writing felt good.

So here we are, 2015, and I am bouncing around the idea of doing it again. I know, for sure, that putting something to page each and every day dramatically improves my writing. It's a known fact about practice. I’m scared, though, that I won’t have the time. I'm scared I will find something else to do. 

Here is were the “cut myself some slack” talk comes in. If I post one-fifth of what I have in the last few month, which is virtually nothing, I am way ahead. 

Maybe I will make a few new blog friends. Maybe I will learn some interesting things. Quite possibly I'll get reacquainted, and semi-intimate, with my inner muse. All wins, right?

And then there is the (self-inflicted) peer pressure! My blog roll is full of writers excited for the November to begin. And writing!!!!! I want this feeling. I want to be excited. I don't want to miss out on the fun; I suffer from FOMO sometimes.

I have until November 5th to decide. Today, I am in! I hope that goes for tomorrow, too, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day after…

Are you in or out?

Have You Ever?

(I am using the same picture as A Cup of Jo! because it's perfect!)

I follow a blog called A Cup of Jo for its fashion, design and travel tips, and honest and fun discussions on relationships. Girl stuff in general. I visit at least once a week or so. And as is so often the case with many blogs, some of the best action can sometimes be found in the comment section. Love it!

Yesterday, a post titled “Do You Stalk Your Ex Online?” caught my eye because…how could it not??? If I am honest right here and now, the answer to this question is a resounding “Of COURSE I have."

Go ahead and admit it; you have too.

In the old days, stalking was an inconspicuous drive by right before curfew, or a well-timed hang up after (hopefully) hearing his voice on the [GASP] home phone. I'm not talking about the scary kind that should be taken seriously, and which I am not making light of here. But the innocent, love sick sort. Stalking was pretty simple back then. 

Then some smarty pants developers had to ruin it all with the *69 callback function. And a few years later Caller ID. Darn those two telephone functions. They single handedly wiped out our once easy access to a former love bug’s “Hello. Hello. Hello?” [click]. The sound of their voice setting us back weeks. Maybe it was for our own good.

Now we have Google, and the wealth of information, both written and visual, it provides. Depending on how you look at it, it makes stalking both better and worse. Certainly more thorough. If one had the time and energy, some tech savvy to know how to properly dig, I bet you could find out more than you ever expected and maybe wanted. Am I right?

So that brings me to today.

After reading the post and more than a few of the comments, I decided for whom I wanted to stalk. I am not going to tell, but suffice it to say, I had a huge crush on this guy many, Many, MANY years ago. Thirty-one to be exact, and well before I met the man of my dreams. It lasted for quite some time too. We made out an obscene amount of times, but that's all. Wrote about him just once. (Go ahead. I’ll wait.)

Googling him procured most of what I already assumed. He’s still married to the (ugh!) girl he met when we were hanging out and good friends, lives in the same suburb in which he’s always lived, and has the same job. Oh, and a land line, and a Linkedin account (don't worry, I signed out of mine so he doesn't know). With a PICTURE!!! 

I didn’t recognize him. 

I read through his profile. It was him. I searched his face over and over and over looking for anything familar; a glimmer of the guy I remembered. 

I don’t like this stalking business. Not at all. It’s a memory spoiler.

Holding the line: Stream of Consciousness Writing for 10/7/2015

Some sort of Jazz is playing. My phone is on the speaker setting because I have been on hold now for maybe 30 minutes. Not sure though. I know I started at “You are caller number 8.” I am now caller number 2. Each time they update my caller status, they change the music. I think this is to distract me, or maybe to make it seem like time is passing faster. It is not passing faster. It is actually moving slower. You know when you get hyper aware of something? I am starting to get the tinniest bit annoyed. Now Smooth is playing by Santana, and I have always liked this song. I’m swaying a little in my seat. Feeling some groove coming on. I am playfully distracted now. But they haven’t updated my caller status in a while now that I am thinking about it. Maybe I'm number 1 caller and I don’t even know it. I kind of don’t care. So maybe their distraction tactic is working. I sort of feel panicky because any moment I am going to have to stop writing and pick up the phone real quick and engage the government. I kind of don’t want to do that now. I am no longer in the mood. But I have waited for 34 minutes so I should. If they ever pick up. The worst thing that could happen right now is my call gets dropped. I am now the number 1 caller in line. It’s kind of exciting. I am next for something. I am just trying to streamline my entry into the United States and I seem to be roadblocked. Do you sometimes forget passwords to all the things you have to have passwords for? I do. I even wrote it down and everything, which I feel is pretty good for me. Now it’s not right. What? And I am locked out of the government system. That’s why I am holding the line. I am still caller number 1. What in the world have the last 8 callers been talking about for the 39 minutes? I don’t think I want to know. I gotta go. I finally got a human on the line…