Thursday, March 31, 2005

That's kinda funny

A gal at work was trying to get on to the Dick's Sporting Goods website, so she went to

They're in a whole other "goods" market.

So she was embarrassed and told a few friends in the cubicle farm what had happened. They laughed with her. Then they sent a message to the IT guy, telling him about it and how he should bust her.

So IT guy sends dickgirl an e-mail saying that the system just notified him that someone was accessing porn via a company computer and it was traced back to her PC. She would need to explain herself so that he could include that information in a report to be filed with the company president.

So of course, she's freaking out, and everyone else is laughing about it.

Heh heh heh.

Tuesday, March 29, 2005

You're making me cry

I have a friend that I met volunteering with the Compeer program. They set you up with a socially isolated adult and the two of you meet once a week to talk, shop, play games, etc.

I've been meeting with my friend for three years now, and every Monday night, I know it is the highlight of her week. In addition to having depression, my friend is also physically challenged with cerebral palsy.

She can crawl around on her knees, but she cannot stand upright. Her fingers and toes are gnarled and curled, making it difficult for her to grasp things, open bottles, type on the computer. When she coughs, her entire body shakes. She has to focus on her annunciation to overcome the muscles that involuntarily thrust and contract, impeding her speech.

Yet she lives alone. She prepares her own meals. She wields power tools (she often cuts the legs off of chairs to turn them into stools). Uses a local transportation service to get to her doctor appointments. Orders food delivered, as well as laundry service. She even takes long-distance learning classes online at the local community college. And most of the time, I don't see her as disabled. Even though I know that she rarely leaves her house, save for Monday nights.

She was excited to hear about my trip to Paris. I asked if she received my postcard. She had. It was propped up on top of a stack of postcards. All postcards I've sent.

"I've sent you a lot of postcards, haven't I?"

She smiled and nodded. "One day, I'll go somewhere ... and you'll receive a card from me," she said.

At 56 years old, she's outlived her parents and three older brothers. She does have a sister who lives out of state.

Last night, were on the topic of death and dying. She told me once more how she'd like to be cremated, her ashes spread across her parents' graves. This much I knew.

"Hopefully on a windy day," she added.

"That way some of you can rest peacefully on your graveyard neighbors?"

"No," she said gently. "That way I can enjoy freedom in death that I never had in life."

Monday, March 28, 2005

Calling it quits

So I phoned home to wish the fam a Happy Easter, and while talking to my father I asked, "Is it just the four of you?"

"Nope," he said. "Just the three of us."

Hmmmm.... "Where's Amber? Is she working?"

"Maybe Baby Brother should tell you that story."

So Baby Brother gets on the phone and confirms that he and Amber (you might remember her as the "not good enough for my brother" gal who proposed to him on the most romantic of days ... MLK Day?) have broken up.

I thought it was FABULOUS news. She was fine as a girlfriend, but fiance scared me, and wife scared me even more. Apparently, she has decided she doesn't want to have kids. Which doesn't make sense to me, cause I heard the phrase "when we have babies" coming out of her mouth about a MILLION times over my Christmas visit.

Sounds fishy to me. Perhaps she just realized it was all too fast too soon ... and a really bad idea. I'm just glad SOMEONE realized SOMETHING sooner rather than later.

I guess I could have been better in hiding my glee. Break-ups are always hard, and I should have been more empathetic to the fact that Baby Bro would not share my jubilation.

But you'll share in the joy, right?


Friday, March 25, 2005

La Chat Noir, Parisian

Five Best Things About Paris

1. Pain au Chocolat for breakfast every morning. I love having 5 or 6 patisseries within walking distance of any locale in the city. Nothing beats a warm, flaky, fresh-out-of-the-oven pain au chocolat ... any time of day.

2. Three course dinners. The only way to dine is using le formula, a fixed price menu with your choice of entree (starter), plat (dinner) and dessert (yum in any language). My favorite entree was the tried and true Salade au Chevre Chaud, fabulous greens in a house vinaigrette (as EVERY salad in Paris is, they don't offer choice of salad dressing) and topped with warm goat cheese. My favorite plat was actually a gallette (what crepes are called when they don't have desserty sweet fillings) that LISBF ordered at a cute little Mediterranean cafe on Ile St. Louis. It was filled with blue cheese and walnuts. My favorite dessert was Moellieux, sometimes called chocolate pots here in the states. It's a cake/brownie type thing filled with warm, hot, dark chocolate in the center. Often it's served sitting in a puddle of fresh creme anglais, or vanilla creme. Bon appetit.

3. Le Metero. EVERYTHING in Paris is within two blocks of a metro stop. It's fast, reliable and easy to figure out. One of the original mass transit systems makes it easy to explore every area of the city.

4. The Cemeteries. I'm a fan of cemeteries and the ones in Paris are fabulous. Picpus Cemetery was my favorite spot we saw in Paris. It's V. small, and you have to hunt to find it. The site of the mass graves of Revolution-era guillotine victims are here, along with a small area for family plots of victims' relatives. The Marquis de La Fayette is also buried here, with a U.S. flag flying over his grave. Picpus' stone walls give it a wonderful secluded and quiet ambiance. Its parklike entrance, beautiful, undisturbed grave monuments and tragic, moving history make it a peaceful, meditative retreat in the center of the 12th district.

5. The view atop Sacre Coeur. We climbed 296 steps up the tower of the inner dome on our first day there. Sitting atop the hill of Montmartre, we had a breathtaking view of the entire city. Few other people were at the top with us. Well worth the climb (and the 5 euros) it offered a gorgeous panoramic view, a rush of exhilaration to explore the narrow streets of the vast city that sprawled before me and a feeling of quiet contentment that few experiences in my life will be as moving, as reflective, as wondrous as this.

Five Worst Things About Paris

1. The filth. Paris is dirty. Not just big city dirty, but filthy dirty. It is most evident in the rampant dog poop covering the sidewalks. It seems like every Parisian owns a pup. In fact, the city has employees zip around on motorscooters to vacuum up le merde from les sidewalks.

2. Paying $4.50 (US Dollars) for a warm bottle of Coke. When you eat out at a bistro, restaurant or cafe in Paris, you are paying for the pleasure of sitting at the table. All food prices are inflated to reflect "table rent." Parisian restaurant owners don't expect to turn over tables, they only expect one group of people per table each night. Because that's what people do in Paris. They go out to sit at a restaurant table ALL NIGHT LONG. How does anyone get anything done? Food prices in Paris also are inflated due to "servis compris" which means the "tip" is included.

3. The rough facial and toilet tissue. A few days using the rough, scratchy tissue products in Paris had me wishing for the soft comfort of the industrial one-ply found in U.S. airports and elementary schools. It is that bad.

4. The hassle over making change. Cashiers at the local Monoprix Supermarche cannot be bothered making change. If you try to hand them a 10 euro note for your $3.75 total, they shake their heads, cluck their tongues and reach over to your outstretched palm to count out the exact change themselves. We ran into this more than one occasion, Paris cashiers don't like to break bills.

5. The smoking. EVERYONE over the age of 11 smokes in Paris. It is most bothersome during the aforementioned cafe experience. People sit at tables and smoke ALL NIGHT LONG. Tiny rooms, tinier tables and s-l-o-w service. It really puts a damper on your $40 dinner when all you can taste is the Clove cigarette burning right next to you. Ugh.

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Easter Egg Hunt

Further proof that I don't work in your ordinary office ...

We reached a company goal earlier this week. And to celebrate ... there was an Easter egg hunt this morning. Everyone had three eggs to find with their name on it. There was one Golden Egg that Kooky found.

Inside? Candy, Sacajawea dollars and lottery tickets.

What a welcome back.

Tuesday, March 22, 2005

Nearing the end of lock-up, er, Lent

Easter has always been one of my favorite holidays. I enjoy the traditions associated with Easter, like decorating eggs, egg hunts, hiding baskets ... and not to mention HAM! I LOVE HAM!

But as a child, Lent was always such a downer.

Our household had no real religious identity growing up. My mother was raised in a conservative Protestant sect called United Missionary. She still considers herself a Christian and the two of us conflict on most of your major social issues.

I have no idea what my father believes. I would guess that he doesn't consider himself to be particularly religious. He was raised Catholic, and therefore we were "raised" Catholic ... but I think it was largely due to the tradition of things, and my father wanting to please his V. Catholic parents.

So it was my father who was Catholic and my mother who would drag us to mass, as well as enforce all the other Catholic traditions, like Lent.

My mother never let us choose what it was we wanted to give up for Lent. Probably because we would have tried to give up going to school, or eating green beans.

The things she chose for us weren't merely ideals or changes in behavior, they were tangible things ... things that were important to us as children ... things that would be missed.

She would place these things behind lock and key in her china hutch, where we could see them peering out at us for 40 long days. A gentle reminder of our sacrifice, and the sacrifice of Our Lord, Jesus.

One year, Lent was especially tough. I tried to pray. I tried to believe. But I couldn't for the life of me figure out what Jesus wanted with my stuffed Pound Puppy, Candybar.

Sometimes, my mom would catch me sitting in front of the china cabinet, whispering. She probably hoped I was praying. But really, Candybar and I were hatching a plan to break him out of there.

The first week was the toughest. By the third week, sleep came a little more easily. And by the time Easter came around, the separation was near complete. My arm no longer tried to curl itself around the empty space where Candybar used to lay. My bed no longer looked empty in the morning, without him perched atop the pillow.

I still have Candybar. These days, he can most often be found on the cedar chest at the foot of my bed.

I can't imagine ever getting rid of him. Like so many other things in life. It's nice to know I carry him with me, even if I no longer need him to get to sleep at night.

Monday, March 21, 2005

Have you SEEN I, Robot?

Honda is taking ASIMO on tour. That's ASIMO as in Advanced Step in Innovated Mobility. The world's most advanced humanoid robot.

It walks, talks, waves, grasps objects and climbs stairs. Even more impressive, it uses two cameras to create depth perception and scans your body topography and face proportions and dimensions so that if it runs into you later ... ASIMO recognizes you and calls you by name.

The technology was developed with the idea of aiding the elderly or disabled. At 4' tall, ASIMO stands eye to eye with a person on a bed or sitting in a wheelchair. He can even "go online" to relay the latest forecast in his spooky childlike voice.

The next step is developing artificial intelligence. Scientists predict that by the year 2040, ASIMO will be commonplace ... one in each home.

Seeing as how I still don't have a working home computer ... perhaps I'll also allow this little bit of techno gadgetry to pass me by...

Wait ... what? It changes litter boxes??

On second thought ...

Friday, March 18, 2005

Let the madness begin

When you live in the basketball-crazed Midwest ... there's no time like tourney time. I don't watch a single game of b-ball all year, but when it comes to the NCAA brackets, I pay attention to every game.

Hey, there's $250 at stake.

The first year I played in an office pool, I won 2nd place, which got me $75.

The second year, I took it all ... $180.

Last year I didn't fare so well.

This year I also participated in the draw. I drew (7) W. Virginia, (10) Creighton and (15) Chattanooga. GO MOCS! What the hell is a Moc anyway?

For the brackets ... I'm picking my Midwestern brethren, the Illini, to take it all ... I hope they don't let me down.

Thursday, March 17, 2005

Isn't this supposed to feel good?

Last fall, I won a massage gift certificate in a drawing at a benefit concert ... which I promptly lost shortly thereafter.

The gift certificate resurfaced earlier this month, and although it expired Jan. 1, I called the guy and he said he would still honor it.

I arrived for my appointment Saturday morning shortly before the massage therapist. He quickly bounded up the stairs to unlock the door for me and asked me to have a seat in an overstuffed pleather chair.

"Excuse the mess, we're in the process of redecorating," he said.

Yeah, I'll say. Old, brittle wallpaper peeling off the walls. Stains all over the carpet. Furniture was scarce, save for the overstuffed pleather chair and two large plants whose dead leaves were scattered around the floor beneath them.

The guy was very nice. After going over my options, we decided on a full-body Swedish. It's supposed to help get the fluids flowing and allow the body to rid itself of toxins. He explained all the areas of the body that he would be working on, and clearly stated that no breast tissue would be touched or exposed at any time.

Thank God for that.

He lead me through an office (it comforted me slightly to see a few certificates with his name on them hanging on the wall) to the massage room in the back. At least it looked respectable. Walls were painted (albeit sloppily) a warm purple, candles were lit, Indian flute music was playing, flannel sheets draped the massage table ... it was enough to convince me that he hadn't just set up shop the previous week.

As he was leaving the room to allow me privacy while I disrobed, he noticed my alarm when I spied a peephole in the door.

"That looks out, into the office," he said. "So that I can tell if I have another client coming in."

Nevertheless, I undressed out of view of the peephole.

Once the massage got under way, I couldn't wait for it to be over. It was uncomfortable for the most part, and down right painful in some instances. He was V. receptive of my wincing and would ask, "Tender?"

Um. Yeah. I guess...

He did my arms, stomach, chest (not breasts!), legs, back, neck. And finally he was through.

But he wasn't. All I could hear was a snapping noise, then I felt fingers bearing down on what I can only assume were pressure points on my body.

*SNAP* dig into shoulder ... *SNAP* dig into hip ... and so on

Then, he laid one hand at the top of my spine, and the other at the bottom. And he stood there. Mumbling something. With his hands on my spine. For an unGODly amount of time.

Um, dude? Dude? WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

He released his hands, put his palms together in a prayerlike state, said a few more things, then held up the top sheet for me to turn over.

He advised me to take all the time I needed. Relax. No rush. And when I'm ready, put on my clothes and gather my things.

I couldn't scramble out of there fast enough.

I will say he did his job getting the fluids to flow ... I had to pee really bad.

Wednesday, March 16, 2005

Bonjour from Paris!

Arrived safe and sound early this morning, and after a quick one-hour nap, we were out walking our neighborhood, Montmartre. The apartment is just down the street and around the corner from the Moulin Rouge. So many beautiful streets to explore!

The only touristy thing so far was seeing the Sacre Coeur. Gorgeous. The entire inside is detailed in mosaic murals. Also climbed 292 steps in a stone spiral staircase to the inner dome where we had a breathtaking panoramic view of the entire city.

I've even had to rely on my pathetic attempts at French a few times! The sidewalk cafe where we ate lunch did not have menus available in English ... so we stuck with what I know.

Got 40 euros from an ATM easily but was shocked to see a withdrawal from my checking account listed as $53.75 ... oh, yeah .... STUPID exchange rate! Better keep that in mind the rest of the week!

Hope to be in bed by 10ish and then wake bright and early for a full day tomorrow.



Cash flow low...

I've written before about how dour my financial situation (or I should say, my bookkeeping skills) can be. But this past weekend, things hit a new low.

My car's empty light came on Wednesday ... so by Saturday night, I feared my luck was running out.

After subtracting the check I wrote for my new haircut ($18) and the charges from going to Pizza Slut buffet with the Ms for lunch ($8) I calculated that I would be safe spending only $3 on my debit card before I hit the land of negative balances.

So, I pulled up to a gas pump where unleaded hovers around $2.10 a gallon .... and I filled up $3 worth of gas.

I then combed through my purse, my car's change drawer .... even under the seats. And I came up with another 80 cents.

I strolled right in to the gas station and asked the attendant to put 80 cents on pump number six.

She said nothing and just rang me up as if it weren't the stupidest thing in all the world.

Tuesday, March 15, 2005

Where the hell have I been?

It appears that my small group of loyal readers has mostly disbanded ... *le sigh*

I have no one but myself to blame, for I have been quite lax in the blogging lately. And ya gotta give the people what they want so that they will keep coming back.

Work has picked up, so that contributes to less "free" time for blogging. Also, I decided to apply for a second job. It's an executive director of a coalition against sexual assault.

Only an additional 10 hours a week, and the work is basically just an extention of the volunteer work I already do.

There is a small part of me that wonders if this kind of work in the non-profit sector might be in my future. And I thought applying for this job would be a good way to get my feet wet.

But there are two monthly meetings that occur during work hours, and I needed to have those times away approved by my boss and the company prez before applying.

One condition that my boss mandated was that I was NOT to do outside work for the coaltion while here.

Um, you mean, not any more than I do already??? (Like the T-shirt design I submitted for the rape survivor advocacy program, pictured.)

So a feeling of being "watched" a little more closely has also contributed to the decrease in blogging.

NEVER FEAR!!! Even though I am leaving for Paris this afternoon... I have pre-written posts for your enjoyment! And I am trusting M2 to sign on and post them for me.

So you can still get your dose of LCN while I'm away.


Monday, March 14, 2005

Strange things keep happening...

I collect fairies.

I know what you're thinking, I don't seem like the enchanted earthworks type ... but for a while there, I collected Dezine fairies.

I have them all in a glass cabinet that stands about three feet high. I probably have about 25 or so different fairies. I haven't added to my collection in a few years.

I never take them out or anything. They just sit in the cabinet, undisturbed.

Well, all except one ...

The first time I noticed something wrong, it was a rainy winter evening. Lil' Sis was on her way to visit me. At the time, she was in grad school about three hours away.

The thunder and lighting was intense, the rain was thick and the wind was fierce. I was walking from my bedroom to the kitchen, and when I passed the fairy cabinet, I noticed that Fragrant Fairy had moved.

There she was, front and center on the top shelf with wings spread to the front of the cabinet, a full 180 degree turn from her usual state.

I panicked. I knew it meant my sister was dead.

Lil' Sis loves to turn my place upside down. For days after she's gone, I'll find photo frames resting on their faces, my small, metal camels on their backs with feet in the air, stuffed animals perched in peculiar places ...

I KNEW that Lil' Sis had moved the Fragrant Fairy. It was her way of telling me goodbye.

My fear was further intensified by the fact that I tried calling her cell phone several times and did not get an answer. When she arrived at my apartment about an hour later, I told her about the Fragrant Fairy. She laughed and told me I was being crazy.

I tried to forget about it.

But Fragrant Fairy would not leave me alone! I found her turned around twice more while I lived in that apartment. (My mom blamed the maintenance man.) And three times at the next place. (My friends blamed my boyfriend.) When I moved into my last apartment ... it didn't happen again.

My mind was eased and I had forgotten all about Fragrant Fairy ... until yesterday.

While walking through the dining room last night, I saw that Fragrant Fairy was up to her old tricks. There she was, wings defiantly spread to the front of the cabinet.

I know there must be a reasonable explanation.

But I have other fairies with small, circular bases, ones that might act like a pivot point. Fragrant Fairy is kneeling, so her base is long and rectangular.

Perhaps there is some sort of imperfection on her base that causes her to swivel when foot traffic vibrates the floor below the cabinet. But why is she the ONLY one who ever moves.

And why is it that I have NEVER seen her only partially turned? Perhaps kneeling with her side to the front of the cabinet?

Different shelves, different locations, different floors, different homes ... AND YET SHE MOVES.

I know of too many personal accounts with eerie, unexplained occurrences to discount a supernatural explanation.

But I hesitate to hold a spirit responsible ... because that would mean it's been following me around.

And I'm not sure I'm down with that.

Friday, March 11, 2005

Showing off for Darth

Posted by Hello

LISBF's brother (who we'll be staying with in Paris) took this picture in the Montmartre neighborhood last week (near where we'll be staying!).

Posted by Hello

Wouldn't you know it if LISBF and I thought the picture might look better sans pedestrians in the foreground ... I've never really done much people elimination touch up work. So I tried a few different methods.... The evidence of which you can see when you look at the motorcycle's front tire and the slight glow around the base of the lampost.... but not bad for a first effort.... eh?

Thursday, March 10, 2005

Frog ... it's what's for dinner

So yesterday I e-mailed LISBF to ask what he'd like for dinner. I was in charge, cause we were staying at my place. And that's the rule.

His reply:

-----Original Message-----
Sent: Wednesday, March 09, 2005 4:14 PM
Subject: RE: HEY!

You should prepare a feast for me fit for a prince!

(or we can go somewhere cheap.)


So he bought us dinner at an awesome smokehouse place in my neighborhood.

Ain't love grand?

Wednesday, March 09, 2005

Risen from the dead?

So Sunday, a certain person who writes a certain blog that I and certain others visit frequently ... well, he declared himself "done with blogging."

Now he's been FLOODED with comments, mostly of the "please don't stop!" variety. I, for one, didn't pile on any of that kind of crap. His big fat head is big and fat enough as it is already, people.

My reaction was selfish. MooCow's done blogging? Damn. There goes half my readership.

So what is a snarky little (okay, medium!) black cat such as myself to make of the fact that Moo left a comment on my pee post?

Perhaps I don't need to add "RIP" to my ass tatt just yet ...

Monday, March 07, 2005

Vapors rising

The Ms and I had a night on the town Friday. We went to see a show and then ate at a fancy pizza place (you know, one of those places where all the toppings are weird and you can't just order pepperoni).

Anyway, I got up from the table to use the restroom. When I went in, there was a chickypoo standing at the sink doing her make-up. Did I mention that the frou-frou pizza joint is a mecca for beautiful people?

So there is one tiny stall in the tiny bathroom, but it's right next to the sink. So it was with a bit of hesitation that I proceeded to go into the stall and take a piss.

I heard that bathroom door creak, and was glad to know chickypoo had left the room. Then, I looked down and noticed some vapors rising up in between my legs. Kind of like when something hot meets something very cold.

"Whoa! Is that my PEE!"

Stop stream. Check for vapors. Start stream again.

"My pee is so warm it's making VAPORS! Too weird."

Stop stream. Single blast. Single blast. Warm pee theory confirmed. Finish my business.

I open the stall door to chickypoo on the other side.

Mortified, I mutter "I, um, need to wash my hands."

She smirks and leaves.

When I get back to the table, I tell the Ms all about it. Of course, they find it hilarious.

On the way back home, M1 stops to gas up the car. I use the restroom because I have to pee again ALREADY!

In the parking lot, M1 shouts at me ...

"Any vapors this time? .... 'cause if so, you might want to get that checked."

Thursday, March 03, 2005

What does it all mean?

So I told you I have wacky dreams ... well here is last night's. Interpretations are welcome!


SO ... it started off in a courtroom, where this guy was being tried. He was found guilty and sentenced to death. All his family and friends were ecstatic cause he'd committed the crime in Jesus' name (amen!) so they were glad he would die cause he would be going to heaven.

While they were whooping and hollering, they were waving their arms in the air, a la dream girls, while chanting something. It was like Mukata or Mukara or something, it had the same sound as Stigmata, but it started with an "M."

SO ... some of them started to be lifted up in the air ... all the way to the ceiling (it was REALLY high with four windows in it) and then that got all the praying people even more excited. They were shouting that they were being lifted up to the Lord.

So then, I went to the church to interview the people about this lifting thing. And I was in a HUGE hall with blue and red carpet. With lots and lots of windows all down the wall, but not churchy type windows, more like gothic windows without the stained glass.

So we're videotaping this little girl on a chair in this huge hall, and then, the camera pans around to take in the entire hall, and I was like "okay, that's all we need."

And then the creepy little pale headed dark haired girl was like "Do you want to see us do it?" All husky and whispery like Dakota Fanning or something. But she said that the camera crew had to leave. Then these other kids come out of the shadows. And they're all over in the corner chanting and waving their arms. But they're not as good as their parents, so sometimes they have to get a running start, and they don't get lifted nearly as high.

Then, we were putting up huge, long curtain rods and big blue drapes to cover all the lower windows along the wall, which made it pitch black. And we were loading in a rig from a stage show or something, and suddenly there were all these roadies everywhere helping us put truss together and run cable and whatever. There was a weird truss that was in the shape of a half circle and it snapped into one end, and had to be bent over to snap in at the other end. With all these lights hanging off of it. And people were all gathered around it, along the curve of the truss.

I was working with this guy, Eric, who wasn't anybody I know. He was a big beefcake guy. We were trying to get the other end snapped in. And then, there was a bright light in my face and I couldn't see anything, and I got really scared, cause it was all too dark in this huge hall, and I started shouting for Eric. He was close by, and I was able to reach out and feel his back and hang on to him as my eyes adjusted to the pitch blackness.

Then, when I started to be able to see again, I noticed that everyone was gone. Only their shoes were left behind. I was looking around the half circle, and saw all these shoes. Then I started panicking. And I wanted to get out of that building where it was too dark and spooky. So I grab Eric's hand and we run out of the hall, across a long hallway that kept going down in planes. Kind of like terraces. It would be like 20 feet, then a step, then 20 feet and another step. And it seemed to go on forever.

And out the back doors of the place onto this tiny little balcony made of stone overlooking a cliff drop off. And I thought Eric was trying to kill me and throw me over the edge. I was so scared. I grabbed Eric's hand and went back inside down the long hallway. And I was crying and muttering about how I was terrified of Eric but I was more afraid of being alone.

And Eric kept getting weaker and weaker. So he was leaning on me and I was carrying him toward the lobby of the building. And he was so heavy. And I didn't think I could carry him anymore. And I could tell he was dying. And I was on the floor crawling, with him on my back, dragging him along. Getting weaker and weaker.

And then we got to the lobby and there were all these employee type people there. But they weren't friendly or welcoming. A lady behind the desk, a bell boy type guy, a concierge type guy. And the concierge was like "did you think the Lord would not find out? Did you think he could not see you?"

And I was weeping and struggling under Eric's weight, and pulling him along trying to get outside. And the concierge is going on and on "You'll pay for this eternally" and stuff.

And I get outside, and it's a tangled mess of trees and roots, thick, and hard to get through. And I throw Eric's body aside. He's dead and I just don't have the strength to carry him anymore. And I'm frightened and panicked and thrashing through the overgrowth. And I'm praying, asking Jesus to help me get out of here and saying that I believed all along and begging him to see me to safety.

Then I'm out on road, trying to flag down a car. And there is a couple in their forties with a baby. And we're waving frantically at the cars. But in some of them, I can "see" trouble. It's not like I can see inside the car, but almost like I can see them inside the car a la Unbreakable ... like there was a guy with a gun, and I saw him in his car reaching into his jeans to get his gun and fire it at a motorcyclist behind him. But he wasn't doing it at that moment.

So the couple with the baby gets a ride before I do, stupid baby! And then this SUV pulls over to pick me up. And it's a hippie mom with her hair in braids on top of her head. And TONS of kids. Three in the front seat, more in the back. And before I get in, I look up the road toward the scary church place and I worry that a hippie mom isn't a good cover, and they might be looking for her, too. And when we drive past, they could find me again ... and then I woke up.

Very frightened.

La Chat in a hat

Yesterday was Read Across America Day. Several local elementary schools joined in the celebration of Dr. Seuss' birthday by inviting volunteers to come and read to the kids throughout the day.

Readers were able to pick their Seuss book from a table in the lobby. I was hoping for some Lorax, Sneetches or Oh! The Places You'll Go! ... in retrospect I should have brought my own, cause the pickin's were slim.

I settled for Yertle the Turtle. It was a story I was unfamiliar with, so I told the kids we could all learn it together.

I was FABULOUS. The first graders loved me. I was energetic, I used voices, they were laughing and gasping and clapping ... they told me I was the best reader they'd had all day. w00t!

When I got back to the lobby to drop off Yertle (I was quite disappointed with that one) Fox in Sox had appeared. I SO would have chose Fox in Sox!

Oh well, I say, perhaps next year
I'll be able to read a story so dear
As soxes on foxes
or sneetches who sneer
or the tragic plight of developed nations gobbling up the planet's resources and creating mass waste with devestating effects on the environment ...

Dream a little dream

The other night I dreamt I was being toasted in a toaster. I woke up hot! And, like most of my dreams, it took me a minute to realize it was only a dream. I found myself feeling my arms to make sure they weren't flaky golden brown. It was only a dream.

Last night, I had one of the longest, scariest dreams I've had in a while. I often dream that I'm being chased. And I wake up panicked and frightened. I read that being chased means that you are running away from responsibility or neglecting something in your life. The best thing to do in a dream is confront whatever is chasing you. But I'm too scared to try.

Anyway. This morning, I woke up with a start. Frantic and gasping. LISBF is used to my startled awakenings.

LCN: I had a bad dream again.
LISBF: Did it involve small appliances?
LCN: (disgusted) NO!
LISBF: ... you weren't being blended, were you?

I was not amused. I think being blended would be scary indeed.