ends and odds

1. I was doing my laundry at my friends' house this weekend when their kid, Max, who was hyped up on Sheer Attention Potential (both of his parents, his grandma, and I were all there to dote on him) followed me down to the basement.

"What's that?" he asked when I pulled the lint trap from the dryer.

"Lint."

"Lint? LINT!?!?"

And then he bounded away.

2. I was out this weekend when I heard three different sets of parents call to their children.

"Gatsby, no!"

"Yeats, come over here!"

"Karma, sweetie, time to go."

I'll give you three guesses as to where I was. (Hint: The answer rhymes with Ark Snope Slayground.)

3. There's apparently a perfume out there that you can bathe in that makes you smell like a big, fat, walking dryer sheet. I only know this because the woman sitting painfully close to me at a meeting on Friday had bathed in it. Eau de Bounce, anyone?

4. I watched Midnight Run recently and the screenwriters on that film have invented a new technique for dealing with sticky situations: when Robert DeNiro's character gets into a tight spot, he simply punches somebody's lights out. Doesn't matter if you're in a car, in an alleyway, flying an airplane... one good sock to the head and you're out!

5. On the train the other day, a very large, intimidating-looking black man got on and sat down next to me. I was thinking about feeling small and intimidated, but then this teeny tiny voice squeaked out of him, "Hello? Is it me you're looking for? I can see it in your eyes, I can see it in your smile, you're all I've ever wanted and my arms are open wide..."

I think he was actually singing it to me, but I pretended that I didn't even hear him. Because really, am I going to be wooed by the cheesiest song in all of history? I don't care if you are large and intimidating. You're singing LIONEL RICHIE for crying out loud!

6. I had a dream the other night that I was dating my physical therapist (the one who used to yell at me but now treats me like a princess), and in my dream, we sat down to dinner with his parents and his twenty brothers and sisters. It cost $5,000. And then I woke up.

tricks and treats

It may no longer be Halloween (and, please, Park Nope, take note that it's NOT Christmas, either), but that doesn't mean we have to be done with all the tricking and treating.

Treat:

I collect photos of geriatric pumpkins. You can see the last few years' worth here. This year, I thought it was only fair to also include exuberantly joyous pumpkins.

So, for your delight, this year's inhabitants of the Old Folks' Pumpkin Home:

And some adorable little candy stripers:

Trick:

The physical therapist is killing me. And, my right thigh is getting thinner and more cut than my left. This is NOT good. I'll have to walk more arduously with my left leg to make up for it. Or only wear skirts on my right leg.

Treat:

A fun link for those of us who have a small crush on the future commander in chief. (Thanks, Sarah!)

Treat:

Further juicy details involving my love affair with my chiropractor.

1. He hugged me today.*
2. In so doing, he somehow managed to unhook my brassiere.**
3. We're getting married.***

*when I say "hugged" it's really a layman's term for some sort of fancy back cracking. It was, honestly, the most physical I've been with a man in a long time, but, alas, utterly non-romantic.

** it's one of those annoying, racerback-optional bras in which the straps can come out of their loops so you can cross them in the back. I have never done this. I have, however, unhooked myself as many as 14 times in one day. Note to self: buy more non-racerback-optional bras.

*** this is an out and out fabrication.

Trick:

The heat came on in my apartment today and the whole place now smells like hot dust.

Trick:

I had a dream last night in which I was relegated to sleeping in a sewage drain with mouse poos and rat poos and Indeterminate Vermin Poos (which were long, greenish, and scary). In the same dream, I had one of those odd substitutions that make perfect sense (but only in dream-world) -- a gentleman caller (from my real life) was replaced with Owen Wilson. And we were grocery shopping with his father, who wanted to wait until the cashier he "knew" showed up so we could get all the good grocery "deals." I'm sure there's a message there, but I'm too tired from dreaming it to suss it out.

no title for old men (or blog posts)

Have I mentioned the chiropractor recently? No? Hmmm, that's odd. I should have. I love him. The first time I ever went to a chiropractor (two years ago) it was so much fun to go and get Did-It-Hair without actually doing it. Now? Well, it's getting to the point where it's only fair that we actually do it, Did-It-Hair or no. I mean, I see him three times a week. That's a lot of commitment for no sex and bad hair!
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The other night, on my way home, I was on a train with a slightly tired-looking woman. No problem, really, so I started reading my book. Her friend, though, engaged my Barf-dar by rapidly cleaning out a big, plastic shopping bag, passing it to Ms. Sleepy and saying, "here, you can use this."

I shot out of my seat so quickly it was like I had been stabbed in the bum. I ran towards the furthest end of the car, frantically jabbed my earplugs into my ears and PRAYED that I could leave that car before anything happened in that shopping bag.

Luckily, I escaped, but (like a car wreck you can't ignore) I looked back between the cars and until the next stop, she had her head in the bag.

I dreamt of barf all night. (Bleck.)
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He's baaaaaaaaaaaaack!

Yes, that's right, Patchouli Man returned today. Thank God! I was just about to have an extra cup of coffee, but when I walked into the copier room/pantry, I was smacked in the face by a wall of Earthy Tree Smell! I retreated weakly to my office to nurse my wounds.

(I don't know which is worse -- the way he smells or how frequently our copier falls to bits.)
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Here's a cool link, courtesy of my friend Bill. (Thanks, Bill!)
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That's all.

the flood of '07 (in my head)

Last night (really, early this morning) I dreamt that I was at my boss's cabin. You know, the one that's painted purple on the inside and sits right by the river. (Your boss probably has one, too.) And, well, the river was flooding. So much so, that the water was starting to seep into the cabin.

Of course, I called my boss to tell him that his cabin was very likely going to wash away down the river, but he didn't answer the phone. So I just watched as more and more of the river damaged more and more of the cabin. First the purple paint started to bubble, then the couch got ruined (it was ugly anyway, and most likely the couch in the photo my mom showed me last night while we were looking at pictures of her childhood), and then whole floorboards and wall panels started to wash away.

Meanwhile, somebody (and I have no idea who, but it wasn't me) had to get to an audition. But I really felt like I couldn't just leave my boss's cabin to wash down the river. So I stuck it out. Oh, yeah, and I was supposed to be having a party there, so I wanted to tell anyone who showed up that it was cancelled.

Awesome.

Now, I've heard it before (and this website confirms it for me -- although, really, how much faith are you allowed to give e-dream interpretation??), that water in a dream means change -- especially water that is flowing, like a river. And when it's a flood, well, that's just too much change all at once.

Over the weekend, I talked a lot with my parents about my future plans -- so much so, that I had to put a stop to it or my brain was going to explode. After a minute or two, my mom said, "Well, ok. We won't talk about your future. How about we pretend it's the year 2020 and just talk about your past?"

Part of me would give an arm and a leg for it to be 2020 and for all of my decisions to be made. But then, I'd only have one arm and one leg, and well, I'd be all lopsided. So I guess until then, I'll just have to gut it out, cabins washed down the river and all...

no more chocolate before bed!

I've had a series of really bizarre dreams lately. (probably because I'm so totally fearless... notice how I never got to day three? It's probably for the best.)

So the first whacko dream was on Sunday night, where I dreamed that my friend Christina was pregnant. Of course, I was at a seven-way audition when I found out (you know, those auditions where seven of you sit around in a living room and audition for a national commercial) and I tanked the audition, because I didn't see the second line of copy (something to do with "thumbs up!") so I didn't say it. Until prompted. Which was embarrassing.

Then, later, a family friend I haven't seen in DECADES (Camilla Norman, for those of you that know her) was trying to break into a dorm room (not mine, but the one I was living in) that had three push button locks and two door handles, one on each side... (for easier access?)

Then I woke up.

When I told Christina about this dream, she had an interesting interpretation -- she said that the part of me that I think is most like her is about to undergo a big change. Hmmm....

Then there was Monday night's dream, where I was on a date with the cute boy I met at the Superbowl party, who, I should mention, is a few years younger than I am. So when he picked me up for our date on his lawn mower, I wasn't particularly surprised. And, since it was a four-seater lawn mower (very popular on Nantucket, or whatever island we were on), we took my parents on the date, too.

So we go to this fish restaurant at the dock, and I'm driving the four-seater lawnmower from the backseat when it turns out we're actually going to a wedding, and it's raining.

And then I woke up.

Then last night, just to add oddness to injury, I dreamed that my friend Alex (from work, not high school) had gotten back together with his girlfriend and was sitting and snogging with her on my parents' couch -- except she wasn't Alex's real ex-girlfriend, she was my college boyfriend David's ex-girlfriend, Jeannette, and it wasn't my parents' couch, it was this weirdo couch in a ramshackle cabin somewhere.

Then I look over, and my mom is sending text messages to Alex, as if he's David, and as if they were still friends. So I get mad at her, saying that she can't be friends with someone I haven't broken up with yet -- because I haven't even dated him yet -- and she gets mad and sulks off. (probably to go drive her four-seated lawnmower to Camilla Norman's house)

Then I find out that my parents have offered their old bed to Alex (and David's ex-girlfriend) -- without even consulting me! It's this rickety old piece of furniture you'd probably find on the Beverly Hillbillies' truck, but I'm so offended that they didn't offer it to me!

Meanwhile, I start to feel like mice are biting me. Of course, this freaks me out, because there's a slim chance it might actually be true, so I wake myself up, only to find there are no mice in my bed.

Just one crazy nutjob.

dirty laundry

Last night I dreamed that I was hanging my laundry to dry with my old next door neighbor, the mother I used to babysit for (who I'm guessing hasn't hung laundry out to dry, um, ever). We were hanging it right next to the "California Highway" and were afraid it might blow away, so we wound it around a bunch of nails in a shack (the "California Highway Shack" I guess). The fat guy with the big hair from Lost was there, eating a picnic in the shack, along with a friend of mine who threw the superbowl party on Sunday night. I kept looking over at this other, non-shack building, right next to the highway, wondering if it was expensive or cheap, because with its proximity to the highway, it was probably really noisy. After deciding it was probably pretty cheap (and looking at it upside down) I realized that it was full of furniture that my parents would have, and I decided it was some fancy club.

And then I woke up.

I blame the crunchy beans in the bean soup.

subconsciously lost

So last night, I was wandering around my home town naked, and I realized that some kids were looking at me, so when I reached the bottom of the hill, I grabbed the grubby, old, powder blue towel that had been discarded on the side of the road so long ago it was now stiff. I wrapped it around myself and went up the other side of the hill. When I got to the top, I went into one of the new apartments (which was apparently a theatre) and found a room full of shoes.

"I'm naked," I thought, "I can use some shoes." And I proceeded to put on a really cool pair of pink sneakers with sparkley shoe laces, when Merry Friend (a real person from high school) spoke up from the next room, essentially saying that the shoes were for poor people, and I could have them.

Then I was at the roadside bar with my big biker friend (who doesn't exist in real life, alas) and I realized that I was lost. Or really, that I wasn't where I was supposed to be. And I was in sneakers and a towel. So I woke up.

And the night before, I was on a smallish sailboat in the middle of the ocean, in the middle of a storm, with one of my coworkers (two of the other people on the boat, the ones that actually knew how to sail, had left the boat earlier, at the port, maybe?) and we lost power. I looked at Myka; she was just sitting at a desk, kind of laid back.

"Do you know how to sail?" I asked.

"No."

"Are you going to freak out about this?"

"No."

"Then I don't think I'm going to freak out about it either."

(pause)

"Myka, are you going to be sick?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Good, then I won't freak out about that either."

Luckily, the coast guard came to rescue us because our beacon had gone off when we lost power on the boat. I think I woke up before they actually got there, though.

a glimpse inside my subconscious: or why you shouldn't eat sushi before bed

Several factors combined last night to give me one of the weirdest-ass dreams I've had in a long time:

1) the aforementioned sushi;
2) six trillion degree weather;
3) Levaquin (a high-power antibiotic); and
4) serious conversation right before bed

I started out on a tour bus to visit my sister in Boston. When I got there, I found out that we (my sister and I) had to move all the stuff out of my parents' house because they were moving. So we went upstairs (to my parents' house?) and started taking down the stuff. But halfway through it, I found out that I had to move out of my apartment in Brooklyn, too. So I freaked out, because there was no way I was going to fit all the stuff from my parents' attic AND my apartment into my Honda (which I haven't had for 6 years now).

Meanwhile, we're still pulling stuff from the attic when it starts to rain. And the rain tears down the awning covering the attic(?), so now we have to run to save everything from the rain. Scott (my brother in law) carried down the stuffed grizzly bear (which we really dont have) and I carried down the Teddy Ruxpin (which I always wanted but never got) and the next thing I know, we're all moving stuff naked. Me, my sister, and my dad. Scott seems to have stayed clothed, and in somewhat-true-to-life fashion, my mother wasn't involved in the project.

So I load what I can into my car, and the next thing I know, I'm driving away, but driving from the passenger's seat. It's not a British car. It's my Honda. But I'm still driving from the passenge'rs seat. And when I get pulled over, I'm sure it's because the cops are wondering why (not how, of course) I'm driving from the passenger's seat, and I'm sure it's illegal.

Turns out, it's not the cops. It's car-jackers. And they shove this device that looks like a palm pilot (with a very very sharp stylus) into my face, and the stylus has some sort of drug in it (probably Levaquin) so I can't scream or talk. But I try to call my sister on an old cellphone anyway, and all I can squeak out is a measly "help!" before I lose the power to speak all together.

Next thing I know, I'm looking at a rack of clothing hanging outside a bus in a parking lot. I'm trying to pick something to wear to work. I find this really cute dress, but it turns out it's not a dress, it's shorts. And I can't wear shorts to work. But I notice that there's only this little rubber cord that's keeping the legs sewn together, so I start to unravel it, in hopes that it will make an attractive dress. And the more I unravel, the more it turns into yarn. And I start balling it up, and end up wearing it like a brooch on my left shoulder.
And that's all I can remember.

lions and tigers and house cats, oh my!

I had this dream the other night that I was at this hotel in the country somewhere (kind of like in Dirty Dancing) and my parents were there, and we were looking out the front windows (into the back yard, ironically) and we saw this little yellow house cat hissing up a storm. So we look over the hill to see what it's hissing at, and sure enough, here comes this HUGE lioness. And so everyone runs indoors and locks up all the windows (which was really panic-inducing, because none of them would shut easily) and the lioness was eating a bear or something, and that little old housecat was still out there, hissing its little head off.

And all I could think was how much I wanted to go out and save the cat.

Then I was running through a parking lot with Hugh Jackman, who had lost one of his little old lady slippers. But we had to get there (wherever that was) because we were late, so we never went back for the slipper.

Subliminal stress, anyone?