No more sex dreams for a while.  I think I miss them!

*sigh*  I’m sad.  I’m not depressed.  Just sad.  I planned out my LA trip to the GH Fan Weekend (always such a blast of a party) starting in January.  Tracy is going.  Stephanie was going to drop by.  My friend Connie was going.  Nicole from GH Rocks was going to be there.  Leigh, my PC and AMC spoiler person was going to be there.  Crash was going to be there.  Kate, my Resident Cynic was coming.  Lots of people I wanted to see in addition to the stars were going to be there.  We were set. 

I knew money was tight from the beginning, but money is always tight and I managed to squeeze out enough over the months to accrue a savings specifically for my trip.  I managed to get my luncheon ticket at the very last second.  I was going to watch a taping of General Hospital in the making on Friday.  I was meeting with EOS staff and fans on Saturday.  It was going to be a hoot. 

The biggest thing about it was I was going to be totally away from kids and house and stress and my usual life for three whole days.  I haven’t done anything like that since 1996 when I went to Texas for 5 days to visit my friend and attend her harvest ritual.  So in 6 years, I’ve never been away from the kids and even had 2 more kids during that interim.  We didn’t have a honeymoon, just went to Reno, got married, had fun gambling that day and came home.  This trip represented a lot and was the big birthday present I was going to give myself. 

I’m sure you’re seeing that I’m talking about this in past tense, hence all the whining.  In another parallel universe, I’d be packing like mad and falling into an excited sleep right about now, eager to get on the road and hit I-5 to LA right after Delena bopped out the door to school at 7:30. 

Last week it all started to fall apart, at the last minute, after 8 months in the making.  First, my pal Kate had to cancel due to some health issues.  It was fully understandable because she’s been through the medical wringer in the past few months.  Then, GH closed off the sets for taping, so we couldn’t watch the taping.  We could go look at the set, but no watching the show as it happened.  I felt bad because the person who invited me to do this had made a lot of connections to get it to happen and it had been one of those blessed things that normally wouldn’t happen, but was just kind of tossed into my lap.  Then I was taking a shower on Monday and the thought came into my head that I needed to not go.  Shit.  I knew that would not be an original thought from ME since I would not originate such a rebel thought from my own head.  Never.  Ever.  I guarded this trip valiantly through thick and thin for ¾ of a year!  But it wouldn’t go away.  Don’t go on the trip.  *sigh*  That night, I had Eric do Tarot card readings on it and they both said that I wasn’t going to go on the trip and I shouldn’t go on the trip.  I accused him of doing it wrong.  : Þ 

The next day came test #2.  I put the ticket to the luncheon up for sale and said if anyone bought it, I was going to stay home.  My friend Crash bought it the same day and I hurriedly Express Mailed it out to her to get to her on time (and it almost didn’t!).  So then it was done and I wasn’t going and I didn’t even have a good reason why, just that The Universe had insisted that I not go.  I was devastated.  I was mildly pissed.  I was disappointed.  I decided I’d live.  But Damn. 

So yesterday, the day after the ticket sold, the $300 for the expenses and ticket were nestled in the family budget instead of keeping my unmentionables warm in my undie drawer and Eric lost his job.  Out of the blue.  So, OK, at least the reasoning behind me not going made sense.  I had to *know* first to have time to sell and ship the ticket to get the money back.  I listened and then bam, the hit came.  

He and I feel very good about the situation, scary as it might be.  Lord knows we’ve been here enough before.  The expense of the site, Sage is keeping up with donations from the readers and his own contributions.  I put a few dollars in the account whenever I can.  So at least the site is secure.  He has one final check coming, which will be handed directly to the landlord and we will live on the trip money until something else comes along.   He has applied for unemployment and we aren’t sure whether or not that will be approved, but we suspect he has a good case.  If he doesn’t, something else will come along.  He has taken his bartender’s training and just has to take the written and practical test, so he’ll have lots of time to study.  The college has a placement service, so once he passes his tests, they can help him find jobs.  He has the look and a good mentality for the job.  He very much wants out of telecom because the industry is so unstable.  It pays great money...when you can work!  We are so very confident that this is an opportunity to work on our spiritual life and spend time together as a family unencumbered.  He will be aggressively looking for work, in and out of the telecom field and whatever comes up will be exactly the blessing we need.  We can live very simply and frugally and just see where Fate takes us.  We have total trust and Faith in The Process and I’m sure we’ll (as I used to sing as a child) Understand It All By and By.   

One thing that did give me hope is that the day he lost his job, I was feeling really picked on, so I went to the thrift shop to bum around and I found a new pig!  I hadn't gotten one in a long, long time and this one was SO me and just waiting there to come home with me.  He lives on the TV in my office now and is a little beanie Babe®.  If the pig stuff is confusing you, go here.

Meanwhile, I am missing my trip.  I fully understand about sacrificing for the greater good, but we’re talking about a few minutes of cuddling John J York and finally seeing Ingo and Steve and Robin Christopher and probably the LAST time I’d get to see Denise Alexander and A Martinez (sniff).  Yeah, I’ve got faith and all that, but I’m disgruntled as hell.  I definitely heard those prison doors slam shut as the ticket sold.  I’ll get over it.  I’m just allowing myself a few days of self-pity until it works itself out. 

Dylan is doing so exceptionally well in school that I feel bad for having doubted him.  He is so confident and at ease and as nearly as I can tell, hasn’t had an unpleasant moment.  Delena is doing well in school, whether she thinks so or not.  She’s (bless her) always been a whiney sort and O Lord the Woe that doth befall Delena!  Her biggest problem is that the gal just ain’t a morning person.  Left to her own devises, she’ll get up around 10am and go to bed around midnight.  She has to leave for school at 7:30 and it starts at 7:45.  She gets up an hour before she leaves and fusses and gripes and finally gets off and running, usually on time.  I’ve talked to her about not making MY morning bad because she has to go to school and she’s been trying to be more pleasant.  The subject of home schooling hasn’t come up again, I think because she actually seems to have friends this year and once she gets to school, she seems to do well.  I’d love to get her into scouts or some other after school thing.  Yeah, I got my issues with scouts (I was a leader when the big boys were small), mostly with their rather nazi ways, but hey, it’s fun and kids like it, so I can swallow my Summer of Love Hippie rebellion against their Gestapo ways and suck it up for her sake.  She will fare MUCH better in school than with me (much better).    

Josh is still gimping around on crutches, haunting the mailbox for letters from Jamie, his fiancée who is in Army Boot Camp and being cranky.  God knows when he’ll leave now.  He still can’t put pressure on his knee and has to go back in for a recheck soon.  He can stand long enough to do the dishes, which is nice.  He has also babysat a few times. 

Since this is the time of harvest, I figure some pretty heavy stuff must be birthing in some really odd ways, so I’m just going to hold on, keep my hands and feet inside the car at all times and try not to get my head knocked off on the turns (or catch a goose in the face like Fabio did).  

When life gives you lemons, make lemonade...with lots of liquor.

Another sex dream.  Don’t  know where they’re coming from.  I’m serious when I say this is the first time in my life they’ve been around and I’ve gone through many a sexual feast and famine in my time. 

This one involved Blake Gibbons, formerly of Baywatch fan and currently playing a strip club owner on General Hospital.  Here he is in case you are unfamiliar.  He’s also on a commercial, I think it’s Verizon, but then I don’t think it is (don’t write in to correct me, because I don’t care enough to know) where he is hard selling something like wireless service and he says “paradiggum” instead of “paradigm.”

Anyway, I have a really, really handsome husband and I tend to not consider handsome men beyond, “Damn, he’s good looking!”  Sage and I have the exact same taste in men, so I get to make that comment often when we’re going through his message board together.  But it never goes beyond just the recognition of a really good looking guy.  Here I am having these very graphic dreams.

So I had noticed that this guy was really fine, but that was about it...until he showed up for a night visit. 

There’s this scene in the awesome chick movie, “Somewhere in Time” where Christopher Reeve and Jane Seymour make slow, tender love together after he leaned up and blew out the candle through the gauze of the wispy bed canopy.  It was glorious...and my dream was nothing like that.

There’s this scene in the remake of “The Postman Always Rings Twice” where Cora (Jessica Lange) has been baking bread and Frank the Drifter (Jack Nicholson) is there and they are getting all hot and bothered and she hops up on the floury table and says, “Alright then, c’mon...c’mon” and he absolutely falls upon her like a pack of hungry wolves on a rump roast, opening his every orifice to drink her into his every cell and totally consume her in a fiery frenzy of carnal, primal, adulterous, floury passion.  OK, the Blake dream was more like that.  OK, the Blake dream was exactly like that.  Now I blush when the guy in on screen.  OK, so I never blush.  Ever.  But I get a special feeling like when we climb the rope in gym class.  The dreams can continue.  I really don't mind.  I just don't get why they're happening after 40 years.  Blake can return if he wants.  I mean, he's got nothing on The Brothers Kratt, who had some pretty faintsy teamwork on their side but, he dusted A Martinez, I'm sorry to say.

I’m back, by the way.  Not that I’m back writing, but the real me is back from The Lonesome Valley That You (evidently) Got To Walk By Yo Self.  This depression was one of the deepest and longest I’ve had, but it’s good to be back in the sunlight again.  Each time it happens, I feel like it’s the last one and I’m sure one day it will be.

Josh is still here.  His California Conservation Corp recruiter told him that when he’s up to speed again, he should call to set up a revisit of the entry plan.  It’s been a little over a week, he’s still on a crutch, hobbling and in a bit of pain.  He hasn’t called to get his definitive diagnosis, but he should get it when he goes in for his recheck this week.  I’m terrified he has done some serious knee damage (he still can’t put any pressure on his leg at all to stand) and not only will be seriously limited in his occupational choices and maybe need surgery and/or physical therapy, but also might be here forever!

He does have a Plan B and feels it’s possible that Fate may have dealt him a shove over the TV cart to trash out his knee in order to keep him out of CCC and have him prime and ready to wed his new sweetheart when she comes out of army basic training IN 8 WEEKS.  *sigh*  If she says yes, they’ll get married and he’ll join her for tech school and be a dependent husband, then get a job when she settles at her base in Washington state.  As much as I was dreading the separation experience and gearing up for a birdie to fly from the nest, I’ve been doing it for 2 years now as his departure had forever been 2-3 weeks away.  I feel like I’ve been on hold for separation forever.  Now I just want him to go so I can process it and move on (and so I can get my really cool family room to use at last instead of it being his room).  I know it’s not his fault that he fell and destroyed his knee TWO HOURS before his bus was to leave for CCC, but now he’s not only in my house, he’s in my house and depressed and not able to do much at all and missing his girlfriend and frustrated and angry.  I keep hoping for a resolution that is happy for all concerned.

Dylan, on the other hand, my other uterus-breaking, rite of passage enduring baby, aced his kindergarten transition with flying colors!  I was so worried about him because he’s such a gentle, peaceful, beautiful little soul.  Dylan and Nathan, my 5^th and 6^th children, are the only ones who were totally raised by me, never having a babysitter that wasn’t a brother of theirs or spending a moment in day care.  He did not attend preschool (more of a financial issue than a choice since we fell in the cracks between free head start and affording a preschool program) and because of the way our social lives are, has virtually never even been in a house that wasn’t ours.  He’s 5 and I could count on one hand how many people he’s visited and we were always there.  Needless to say, I was a bit frantic of how he would do being abandoned to the auspices of school, all on his own and in totally unfamiliar surroundings with unfamiliar people.  I’ve had this theory for a long time and this was my first time to test it.  I always thought that if you raised a child in an atmosphere of total love, support, encouragement and self-esteem, building on their inner security and never giving them a moment to doubt their safety and their right to be in the world that when the time came, they would stand on their own feet, confident and strong and take the world by the tail unafraid.  Continuing the theory, I felt if you raised a child to doubt their own inner core wisdom, feel ashamed or embarrassed of who and what they are, feel insecure about their ability to perform in the world and grow up in a fearful, paranoid and cringing environment, that they would be terrified of every change and not handle new experiences well.  So while I was fairly convinced of this, I had this niggling little fear that they would turn out to be all clingy and weird and waiflike, hanging in my robes like Greed and Ignorance from "A Christmas Carol."

If Dylan is any indication, then my theory proves out (the best case scenario one, not the skinny, shrinking little child one).  I started about 3-4 week before school introducing him very matter of factly to the idea that moms don’t go to kindergarten and told him that I’d be dropping him off and would be there the minute he got out of school.  I never asked him if he thought he would be OK, if he thought he’d be afraid, if he thought he’d be sad.  We talked about what to do if a great number of situations came up.  What would you do if a child took away a toy you were playing with?”  “What would you do if a child was playing with a toy you wanted?”  “What would you do if you suddenly wanted to go home?”  “What would you do if a child hit you?”  We talked about the fun things he would do in school.  We talked about how Delena was in the same school, just in a different room.  We talked about how fast the time was going to go when he was in school. 

Friday was his orientation and despite how tremendously weepy I was feeling inside over turning this beautiful little spirit over to The Machine of The Man to influence for the next 13 years, I put on my best smile and my most confident persona and we trouped away to meet the teacher. 

Right away, the parents were corralled to one area for briefing and the kids were cornered away to read a book with one of the teachers.  He didn’t even glance over his shoulder at me (ouch) and walked confidently over to the carpet and sat down.  I was very reassured by the program.   They used my favorite kid word (“redirection”) and everyone seemed very well trained and caring.  I was also pleased that the program fit right in with how I told him kindergarten would be. 

He was very excited to start on Monday.  I put him in the afternoon class because he no longer takes naps and he just isn’t a morning person.  He had a shaky moment about two hours before we were leaving.  He crawled up on my lap and his lip quivered a bit and he teared and said that he was sad because he was going to miss me.  I told him I was going to miss him SO tremendously and that I’d be thinking of him the whole time.  I reminded him of how smart and fun and wonderful he is and told him I knew he was going to do just great in school.  I gave him a kiss to hold in his hand in case he needed it while he was at school and could just paste it on his cheek as many times as he wanted.  I held him for a long time, smelling the soft scent of his hair and cherishing the last few seconds that he was only mine and I didn’t have to share him with the rest of the world. 

When we got to the school, he didn’t seem apprehensive at all.  He looked more like he just didn’t know what to do.  There were two teachers and two aides to help him know where to put his snack and his backpack and to give him a nametag.  They lined up and went inside shortly after we arrived.  I was surprised that parents were allowed to stay for a while. With three of my first four, parents had to leave as soon as the kids were settled.   Most parents left in a wave as the first story began.  I left with him, caught his eye and gave him a wave.  He smiled broadly, waved back and went back to the story.

He had a wonderful first day.  I asked him if he was ready to go back the next day and he looked puzzled and said that no, he didn’t have to go back.  I said, “Well you have to go to school!” and he answered, “But I already did!”  Once I got him to understand that it was a frequent occurrence, he seemed at peace with the idea.

This morning, there was no hesitation.  He was raring to go.  When we got to the school, he quickly abandoned me and flew across the playground to play with the other kids.  As the bell rang, he lined up, gave me a hug and a kiss and told me good-bye.  None of the parents stayed this time.  While they were in line, a little girl who is Ukrainian had a complete breakdown.  She tore across the playground, clawed at the fence and cried her heart out.  I remembered her mother telling me yesterday that she spoke not a word of English.  There was an uneasy shuffling in the line as 19 kindergarten students had a herd of geese walk over their graves, wondering if Miss Ukrainian 2016 knew something about kindergarten that they, perhaps, did not.  The teacher picked up the little girl, who was still hysterical, and carried her into the room, calling the line of children to follow her.  Dylan looked at me and waved again, so I guess they weathered the storm.  Afterwards, he told me he had another good day. 

Delena is also having a wonderful year, well, two days of wonderful, anyway.  She has had 3 terrible years prior to this and was on home schooling the last 2 months of 4^th grade because she was beaten up at the school and that was the last straw for both of us.  About two weeks before school started, she and I started doing some candle work, affirmations and intense focus on bringing friends into her life and creating a peaceful transition back into public school again.  One thing I have done this year that I haven’t before is I have dedicated one hour of my time, prior to the time for children to depart, as exclusive time for them.  In the past, I’ve tended to any number of things as I got Delena ready for school and kind of sandwiched in what she needed around the edges.  This way, she has my full, undivided attention (except for what little care the boys need) to help her dress, get ready, fix her hair, feed her and usher her out the door.  It’s been so much more relaxed and she even lets me play with her hair!!!  She has always, even as a baby, hated for me to touch her hair, dashing my mental image (I have 5 sons and only 1 daughter) of endless hours of braiding, ponying, spraying and curling.  It’s odd how walking into their classes, she looks so big and Dylan looks so small.

So far, she’s had great days, played with other kids and enjoyed her teacher.  They had a field trip the second day of school and I think that threw her off a bit, but she’s weathered it exceptionally well.  I am very hopeful that with the continued focus on her having a good year, I can get her through it without having to pull her out of school again, which so greatly limits her social interaction.  I’m feeling much more enthusiastic about both kids’ situations.

So that’s where that all lies.

I’m so looking forward to the trip to LA a week from Friday.  The GH Fan Weekend is always such great fun and even though I can’t afford to do any of the events other than the main luncheon, I’m looking forward to hanging out with my staff, snapping pics of the stars and getting a break.  I’m not looking forward to the 6-7 hour drive, but I’ll have Dr Phil to keep me company and that should keep me from falling asleep at the wheel.  If that wretched Sage would go with me, I’d have it made and could probably talk him into doing some of the driving, but he really does (truly does) need to not be that far from his mom with her health as it’s been this year.

Time for me to sleep (perchance to dream - heh heh heh)!  I hope you all have a wonderful week!

The nights are definitely in the firm clutch of madness!  In my last entry, I told you about the weird dreams, “those” dreams that I never have.  Last night, the weirdness was real time, not dream time.  

I went to bed around 10pm with Eric still up, listening to music on headphones and in deep introspection on the front porch.  He came in around 11pm and almost instantly went into deep sleep.  I have a pesky head cold and wasn’t sleeping very soundly through the night.  Around midnight, the dog started barking like mad.  This isn’t the 119 year old blind dog that lives under my desk, but the 2 year old yellow lab who lives in my bad yard.  This dog barks at ants, barks at the wind, barks at trees, so the dog has a bark collar to let people sleep at night.  You’d think the dog would be trained by the bark collar through negative reinforcement not to bark.  Instead, the dog has been taught not to bark when the collar is on and to give a little test grrr from time to time to see if the battery is up to par.  So around midnight, here goes the dog.  Fortunately, our yards are situated and he houses in the area are designed so that we are the only ones who hear her or else our neighbors and kind and excellent liars.  She’d been barking earlier in the day, so I’d combed the usual places for the bark collar and it was nowhere to be found.  I realized as I was going to sleep that I’d forgotten to ask Eric what he did with it (he’d taken it off of her last), but I was already too drowsy to haul out of bed, go to the porch and ask him.  When she started in, I booted myself in the butt for not following through.  I shook Eric awake and asked him if he knew where the bark collar was.  He mumbled, so I spoke a little louder and shook him a bit.  “Honey, where is the bark collar?”  He started clearly telling me about how the bark collar was at work (he’s a telecom integrated network engineer), that he and Juan (his partner) had been using it to test blah, blah, blah because the terminals are the same frequency as blah, blah, blah...  I tend to glaze over when Eric talks about CAT 5 and CAT 9 cables and OC-10’s and it all starts to sound like Charlie Brown’s teacher, “Whaa whaa whaa whaa.”  But I love him for sharing his day and his life with me, so I pretending I know what he’s talking about.  Since I couldn’t find the bark collar in any of the places it was supposed to be, I figured he had it at work and forgot to bring it home, so I nestled down to try to sleep.  

About an hour later, I woke up to see strobe lights flashing through the windows on our ceiling and walls.  ??!!WTF!!??  Not rolling cop lights, but green-yellow strobe lights.  We live on the corner of a fairly sleepy residential street and a very busy 4 lane, double sided thoroughfare.  There is a tiny frontage road between us and the big road.  I looked out the window (very dark) and across the big road, parked facing North (OK, you don’t know my road, sorry, so parked all the way across the road, in the direction of traffic, as though it had pulled over to the side of the street) was...something.  At first I thought it was an ambulance and the house not far from where *it* was parked is frequently visited by ambulances.  I think a cardiac patient must live there.  As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I could see this thing was BIG, like the size of a triple decker bus, if you can imagine that, and about 1/3 again longer.  The yellowish-green strobe lights were all around the perimeter of the thing and across the middle.  They did not flash in tandem, but seemingly independent of one another.  They were BRIGHT, almost impossible to look at, but their brightness was what made me able to make out the shape of what they were on.  Remember that this was across four lanes with an island in the middle and a frontage road and my yard away from me.  They were illuminating my bedroom with the flashes.  I called Eric again and finally got him to get up and look at it.  He gave it a “pfft” and said, “It’s a Pacific Bell truck.”  I looked at him like he was a new species.  “It’s NOT a Pac Bell truck...are you high?”  He said, “It’s a Pac Bell bucket truck.”  “That is NOT a Pac Bell bucket truck, for godsake, dude, look at it!!”  He peeped out the window and said, “Pfft, I dunno” and went back to bed with the sci-fi hellmobile right across the street from us!!!!  I kept looking out the window at it, trying to decide what it could be and even entertaining the Pac Bell bucket truck idea.  After a few minutes, the thing eased back onto the road and floated off.  There was no engine sound (no other cars were on the road, which was unusual in itself and we sleep with our windows open), no gunning of a motor, no “there’s a big thing moving here sound.”  It just glided away down the road , lights still flashing. 

I went back to bed and finally got to sleep.  Today, Eric is all over it and won't stop talking about it and wondering what it was.  He asked me to describe it again this morning and his memories of what happened with the lights is pretty clear (although he remembers nothing about the bark collar conversation and I found it today on the washer) and he said he couldn’t see it well because he didn’t have his contacts in. I hadn’t even considered that he’s bat blind without them.  He saw the lights and the basic shape and realized on waking that it wasn’t a Pac Bell truck.  So who knows what happened?  There is probably some reasonable explanation, but right now, I’m clueless.  I told Eric that I hope it was the money fairies.  :)  Maybe it was some Ethereal van containing the angelic host with each one of them laden down with a little miracle to dump on my doorstep.   Maybe it was a Pac Bell truck.  But either way, maybe it was weird.  Man, I’m tired!

Unfreakin'believable.  Remember when I was all bunged up about getting a job and I worked through that and got a job at Michael's Artsy Craftsies and was all set to go to my first day of orientation and BAM, Eric got a job out of the blue and I had to let go of the Michael's job?  I have to confess, there have been a few times since then that I wished I'd kept that job and found something to do with the kiddies while I worked.  I reconciled my resistance against leaving the stay-at-home-mom life and then I didn't have to give it up.  

Now, two and a half hours before Josh has to be on the bus to go off to the California Conservation Corp, he's in the Emergency Room with a broken or dislocated or otherwise screwed up knee.  I drove him around all day, getting him set up with things he needs for the trip (with money we can't afford), getting him a phone call to call home, paper, envelopes, gatorade to drink on the trip and digging the duffle bag out of the 478 boxes in the garage.  During that time, I found my peace with him going and was able to approach it with a glad heart and high hopes for his future.  Now, it's unlikely he's going to be able to go, possible for a few weeks yet.  I had already rearrange the family room in my head many times over.  

I took him to his friend's house to say good-bye to his buddies and as we were leaving, he said, "Mom, I don't want to go.  I know I have to go and I'm forcing myself to go, but I don't want to go."  We talked about what he would be doing if he didn't go (not a shiney, happy existance) and he said he knew it was best.  

Now this.

Of course, he has no medical insurance, so no good can come from this other than him getting patched up and hit with a giant medical bill.  

Hold good thoughts that it's going to turn out just beautifully.   

Today is the day!  Or rather, tonight is the night.  I’m all shored up on the mommy hormones for Josh to leave out tonight.  He left yesterday morning around 5am to go spend the day and night camping with some friends and will be back around 9am to pack up his room (boxes?  What are boxes?), go have lunch with his girlfriend’s mom (I taught all my boys to schmooze the parents) and then dinner with all the family that is still here (Joe is in Canada).  He asked for meatloaf, stuffing (oh well...needless to say, it won’t be stuffed stuffing), buttered potatoes and biscuits.  My meatloaf is amazing.  The big question now, considering that we will not all fit in the car and he’s leaving out at 11:30, is who is going to drive him to the bus station.  I’m leaning towards me for the purely objective reason that Eric has to get up very early to go to work the next morning.  I imagine I can keep it together until the bus pulls away, then have my little moment in the car, then drive home OK.  When he gets in this morning, I’m going to ask him if he’d prefer to say goodbye to me here or at the bus station.  Then I’ll just go from there.  That will be the first step in letting go, with Dylan’s foray into school happening a week from tomorrow.  I can do it, I am doing it, it is done. 

For unknown, not-sure-I-want-to-know reasons, I’ve been having sex dreams lately.  I *never* have sex dreams.  In my whole life, prior to this week, I’ve probably had about 2, the first one involving Donny Osmond and fade to black because I was maybe 13-14 and didn’t know what came next.  I’m sure I probably had another one sometime in the past 27 or so years and just can’t recall it.  On Thursday night, I dreamed about A Martinez.  Not just a generic Martinez, but “A. Martinez” who plays Roy DiLucca on GH.  I’ve had quite a crush on him since I first saw him in the movie “The Cowboys” and was pretty doggoned thrilled when he turned up on General Hospital a few hundred years and a million trips around the block later.  He did not disappoint.  The writers did, but “A” did not.  He did not in this dream either.  For those who do not know of such a magnificent creature, here he be:

Then last night, I dreamed about the Kratt brothers from Zaboomafoo.  Both of the Kratt brothers.  A great time was had by all.  Those guys are RIPPED!  I guess wrangling zoo animals gives a person muscles.  Lord, I hope that Crocodile Hunter guy doesn't show up anywhere.  

I am praying that this recent run of unbelievably weird times has blown past (like a very long and very determined freight train) and that life can start to slow down and return to whatever normal was or will be.  I’ve experienced a lot of blessings in the past week and I think I’ve found my center again.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so rocked (as opposed to “stoned” – either in the herbal or the Biblical sense) off my axis, even during the dark times before 1996.  I’m still sorting out all the lessons and info and could easily make a full time job of the analysis, so I’m doing it in bits and pieces when I can get a quiet moment here and there. 

Speaking of quiet moments, my younger kids and I (Delena is 9, Dylan is 5 and Nathan is 2) are really tied in and when I’m having a hard time, they always pick up on it and respond by being maniacs, with their behavior reflecting the apeshit that is going on in my head.  That does NOT make a wholesome combination.  I have to say that in the past two weeks when everything was culminating and trying to resolve, my kids have all three been absolutely golden.  I couldn’t possibly ask for calmer, more well-behaved and loving kids.  It has truly been a joy to be around them and an awesome solace to just cuddle up in a kid blanket and feel their little arms around me, enveloping me with love and acceptance.  I can’t even point to a time in the past two weeks that I’ve had to raise my voice to them.  They’ve started going to bed around 8:30-9:00pm, getting up around 6:00am, no naps and just playing through the day and coming in to give me cuddles from time to time.  Taking care of them has been almost effortless.  Wonder how long I can ride that train? 

The trip to LA for the GH Fan Luncheon is becoming more and more of a reality after being something that’s going to happen way off in the distance.  I gave up on going about 10-15 different times, but things keep happening to support it, so I’m going to give it a go.  It’s about a 6-7 hour drive from here, so I’m going to take my “Self Matters” CD’s by Dr Phil and work on that a bit.  I am having trouble isolating my 10 defining moments because dammit, I worked hard to fog out the past and going back into all that mess just isn’t something I’m eager to do.  My most pivotal people are a little clearer.  Man, I want to be in a good place when I get to LA.  Maybe I should reschedule the CD therapy.   Since Eric is supportive of the trip, I’m definitely going, even if I have to live on warm bologna sammiches and sleep in my car while I’m down there.  Besides, A Martinez will be there. 

It’s all good.  :)

About the pig:

From June 15, 2002

I think I remember telling you about my pig. Eric and I were driving once and he used a line from Platoon that I had never heard (never saw the movie). We had come to a four way stop and the guy to the right couldn't make up his mind whether he was going to go or sit there. Eric got flustered and said, "Dammit, this guy is messin' with my pig!" I guess the line from Platoon is "Hey man, don't mess with my pig" (referring to his gun). This cracked me up and sent us on a tangent about pigs that has lasted for over a year now. Whenever someone or something is disheartening us or irritating us, they/it are messing with our pigs. We have elaborated on the theme and got into, "How's your pig today?" "He's happy and rolling in the mud" or "He's got a full trough and is munching gleefully" or "The kid down the block is poking him with a stick" or "Someone left the gate open and my pig has run away." The pig became the symbol of our joy. That led to me collecting interesting and unique pigs. I have a very, very cool jade pig that Karen (my pal who started EOS with me) sent me. I have a cute little stuffed pig on my desk, a very pretty ceramic pig on my dresser and I used to have a really bitchin' pig creamer (one of the ones like a cow creamer where the cow throws up the milk into your coffee) but hurricane Nathan threw something at it and it broke into a bajillion pieces. I also have the most adorable little pig, my first pig, in fact, who is a beanie pig that rides in my car between the visor and the roof of the car and peeks out at me. He has been up there since we bought the car in April and prior to that, lived on the dash of my (fickle) 69 VW bus. This is my little pig, Knuckles:

A couple of days after the bean incident, I went out to go somewhere with Eric and found *gasp!!* that my pig was IN THE FLOOR of the CAR and had SOMEONE'S F**KING HOOFPRINTS ALL OVER IT!!!! To say the least, I was aghast. Not only was my bean crop destroyed by a fate WORSE than locusts, but SOMEONE WAS MESSIN' WITH MY PIG!! I questioned Eric, keeper of the car, about it and got the "I dunno" blank look response. Had I not been cuddling my pig at the time, I probably would have beaten the hell out of him with it.

More about the pig:

From July 5, 2001

The AC went out on my baby, my favorite ever car, my 1999 Dodge Intrepid, dark red, that I've had for 7 months, 2 weeks and 3 days. I love that car. The AC went out and would cost just at $1000 to be repaired. It cost about a buck and a quarter to fix anything on the VW bus (which is still gutted and unfixed after my famous I-80 break down), but the Intrepid is another story. It's been about 110 degree in Sacramento lately, so Eric has been a little fusser bear about tooling around town (he drives from site to site a lot in his work day) with no AC. Then on Tuesday, we went out to get Dylan's birthday presents and my door refused to open. We poked around and found that the door panel had slipped and was catching. Then an odd burning smell started to come up from under the hood and the brakes were grinding a bit. Eric proposed that we might need to trade in the car (??!!). Since I do the budget, he conferred with me as to what we could afford. Easy. He just lost all of his overtime due to the communications field having little to no work right now and that was our fun money. We are now down to enough to get by on, basically. So I told him NO down payment and no more than the $350 a month we were paying on the Intrepid. If they couldn't do that, come home and mop his brow along the way. I also sent him to the Dodge dealer in hopes of another Intrepid. He called me from the dealership, saying they were fussing about a down payment, fussing about $460 a month. I stuck to my guns, then relented and said that we could do $400, but we'd have to cut back on some things. He came home with a white 2001 Intrepid (I hate white cars, forgot to tell him that they show dirt fiercely). The numbers are $560 a month, come up with $200 NOW and $560 on the first of August (not only rent payday - unlike my friendly car payment that hits on the 23rd - but also the week that we come home from our LA vacation, during which Eric has NOT worked and therefore, as a contractor, NOT gotten paid! Yikes!). Plus. long time readers had better hold onto your hats for this one, when he was cleaning out the car to transfer over the personal belongings to the new car, HE LEFT MY F**KING PIG ON THE VISOR!!! I could not EVEN believe that!! My PIG!! HE went beyond MESSING with my pig and ABANDONED my pig!! What the hell? So he called the dealership and they are supposed to be holding it (god knows what else they're doing to it) until he goes up on Saturday. He offered to go get it that night (it was midnight), but I realized I was being kind of emotional about a beanie baby which just happens to symbolize my total joy, so I told him I would wait. If anything happens to that pig, there will be hell-to-pay PLUS we are officially poor again. It was really nice to have a little money to play with here and there and if the communications field takes off again, there may even be overtime again. For the meantime, we are poor folks driving a nice car that shows dirt and has no PIG on the visor. [Private note to Georgia and Sandra: Although this was unforgivable, you must under no circumstances chastise Eric in any way or even mention the above or he will be mortified. He has been appropriately punished and that should be that.]

Still More About the Pig

From Jul 9, 2001

Got My Pig Back

Eric went and got it on Saturday and it was wrapped up in a piece of typing paper with "Save for Rasbold" on it. "Pig in a blanket" ran through my head. I cut him a look and he knew it best not happen again.

  
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