Cuppa Jumpstart

Woke up with this background music to my dream...

In Dreams

I woke up this morning with this song on and endless loop in my head, thanks to whatever the heck I was dreaming about:

Urk.

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Update: This may explain the hows of why a song ends up one of my infamous ear worms... but not the whys of any particular one pops up out of nowhere.

Bus Fumes

Well... fumes, anyway, and lots of them: Grau tops any of my own recent bizarre dreams, hands down.

In Dreams

Okay, I'm seriously freaked out because this is the second night in a row my ex-husband has shown up in my dreams. I go years at a time not thinking about the guy (we've been divorced since 19809 (wishful thinking there for a moment...)), and all of a sudden he's in my head all night!

The night before last, I dreamed that we was back in New Hampshire and I was going back to work for the jerky lawyer I worked for many years ago. I knew it wouldn't work out, but was willing to take the job just so he could fire me. My line of thinking was that with the unemployment checks I could find a different place for the ex and I to live and to work out our problems.*

Argh!

Last night, I dreamed we were somewhere in Texas with a very large tour group. Our hotel was near a inland lake fed by a river. Because the ex had (in the dream, anyway -- I don't know if he really does or not) COPD, he lagged behind everyone else, and we were constantly late for tours, meals, meetings. The final straw for me was missing another group meal and almost missing the tour bus for another tour, which I decided I didn't really want to go on anyway.

Hungry and peeved, I opted to skip the tour and go for a walk to find somewhere local to find something to eat. As I wandered, I climbed winding streets lined with elaborate Victorian brick homes in the hills above the town.

After a long stroll I came upon my grandson sitting naked on a lawn, and bent to pick him up. I knew I needed to get him back to the hotel, but I was totally turned around and couldn't find my way back. I figured out that I needed to keep the water from the river to my right at all times in order to eventually end up where we needed to be. I had to stop from time to time to amuse the grandson to keep him from crying. We came to a main highway where I could see the lake in the distance.

I suddenly realized that I had my cell phone in my purse and looked for a street sign so I could identify our location and call the ex for a ride back. I looked up, and there was a sign for a town called Querco.**

Then I woke up.

Two things -- I wander around a lot in my dreams... and I wish the ex would get out of my dreams.

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*It should be noted that I've never collected unemployment compensation, and I've never, ever wanted to be fired. I have no idea where that came from.

**For what it's worth, there is a district called Querco. It's in Peru.
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Update: Yikes! Last night he showed up in not one, but three different dreams, in the last of which I was trying to get away from him, hiding and he found me -- which led to me shrieking and yelling, "No, no, NO!" in my dream, which promptly woke me. I was terrified for a minute there that I might have actually talked (yelled) in my sleep.

I haven't had dreams quite this unsettling since the last time I was on the patch. I sure hope whatever it is that's rattling around the shadows of my psyche works itself out -- and soon.

In Dreams

Last night's lulu had to do with me wanting to go trekking around to do some photography. I didn't want to take my new tripod, because it's too heavy to be toting up hill and down dale. For some reason every time I stuffed it back in it's carry case, another friend or family member would unzip the bag, take out the tripod and set it up again. This happened over and over and over again.

Very strange.

In the Rearview Mirror

A memorable portion of last night's dreams included watching water towers falling left and right in slow motion across the southern suburbs of Chicago. What do you suppose that means?

Quick Stops

Just when you think you've heard it all, you find out that the ACLU is suing to get porn for South Carolina inmates and that the KKK protests the WBC. Is there a full moon this week?
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I've been having some real doozies of dreams lately. In the past couple of days they've included:

• Two long-haired Dachshunds -- one white, one tan;
• A fistful of small unstretched canvas paintings that turned to bits of colored cotton knit fabric in my hands because I took too long to pick which one I wanted;
• A fantastic pillow-strewn bed with beautiful cream colored linens perched high on the side of a hill overlooking a lake. The sun was behind the waves of the lake, revealing schools of shimmering fish and mermaids;
• Skeet shooting;
  
• Gorgeous architectural arches with a twilight sky beyond them. I have to choose either to go get my camera and possibly miss the shot because night will have fallen before I get back or to just stay and enjoy the view, knowing I have missed a perfect photo opportunity;
• The Princess Mom and my sister.

That's just the bits I remember over a couple of days. Ack.
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The way things are going, I'll see you in my dreams!

Saturday Ramblings

From the Department of Too Darned Cute:



I want one of each!
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This is beautiful news, given that Illinois is another state that's dead guilty of not getting ballots into the hands of military members serving overseas on time:

A Maryland federal court ruled today that it is a violation of a soldier’s constitutional rights to not receive his complete ballot on time. The court ruled that the John Doe officer stationed in Iraq had standing to sue based on deprivations of their constitutional rights.

This is an enormously important decision which will affect the 2012 elections.

This means that military members need not wait on the bureaucrats in Washington, D.C., at the Justice Department to sue. It may end the monopoly on DOJ’s oversight of military voting, which is a good thing for everyone in uniform. It means that in 2012, during the presidential election, we won’t have to wait for the DOJ to act. It means that the Eric Holder military voting disaster of 2010 might not happen again.

Booyah!

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Joan has posted a hilarious video that not only reminds me how much I love Bill Cosby, but also brought on another long-forgotten tale of the Princess Mom. Go watch the video and then check out the comments!

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Og mixes his wife's chili with sleep and conjures up Alton Brown in his dreams.

My dreams lately have been of the all night long variety, including one that involved not one, but two VPs from my place of work and large amounts of stress, but I'm blaming last night's lulu on the muy guapo and talented Jose, who added a drop of butterscotch schnapps to my usual nightcap Cherry Garcia (good vanilla vodka, Cuarenta y Tres, Godiva Chocolate Liqueur, a dollop of creamer and some other super-secret magical goodness shaken with ice).

Anyhow, somehow Perez Hilton,* poncy pink hair and all, appeared in my dreams. He apologized for offending me in the past and begged for the privilege of a spot on my blogroll. Yes, he owes the world an apology for the load of bile he regularly unleashes on the glitterati. I don't care that he's recently realized just how hurtful his words are and that he's terribly sorry that he's been guilty, guilty, guilty of being two-faced in his judgment of others.

All I care about is that he was in my dreams and I don't want him there. Make it stop! (And, Og? Could you send Alton Brown my way? Dinner across the table from him in my dreams would be a fun thing!)

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My Conservative Identity:

You are an Anti-government Gunslinger, also known as a libertarian conservative. You believe in smaller government, states’ rights, gun rights, and that, as Reagan once said, “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are, ‘I’m from the government and I’m here to help.’”

Take the quiz at www.FightLiberals.com

Blame LL.

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*No, I'm not linking the SOB. I refuse.

PSA

There are a few folks out there in the blogosphere who've been bonked on the head by the wand of Auntie Omnibus.

Auntie Omnibus, you see, has a special place in her heart for those in need, those who are hurting... and those who dare to dream big dreams. She's asking for your help to make a big dream come true:

I love working as a location scout, and I love doing this website – but to be honest, I work in film because I want to be a filmmaker. And, next year, I’m planning on finally directing my first feature length movie. I’ve been writing and revising my screenplay for the past two years, and it’s time to to put it all on the line.

So here’s my request:

If you’re a reader of Scouting NY, and have enjoyed my writing over the past two years, would you consider donating a few dollars to help me make my movie?

If everyone who reads the site just donated $5 or $10, I’d be in great shape. If everyone gave $10 or $20, I’d be in the stars, and if everyone gave a little more…Wow. Even a buck or two would be just fine – honestly, every bit counts. I don’t really make any money from the site (ha, for the first year, I was actually losing money paying the monthly bills), but that’s never been the point, and never will be the point.

Go drop a few shekels in Scout's PayPal account, will you?

It's dreams like this that warm the cockles of a Fairy Blog Auntie's heart...

You Must Be Dreaming

I awoke this morning to realize that this song was repeated endlessly in my dream throughout the night:

But instead of with Muppets, it was with Koi:

I'm still scratching my head. Need. Coffee. Now.

Sunday Schedule

I had another nocturnal visitation last night. This time, my spirit guide was this old friend. The dream again involved water and a journey. And Diana wasn't blind, but she was still as delightfully sunny and outgoing as I remember her, and she chattered away as she led me to where she wanted me to go. Where was that? I don't know. It was more about the journey than the destination.

Two days in a row, I've awakened refreshed and happy.

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I sure wish I could pass a little bit of that peace I'm feeling onto the Wortham family, who laid a truly good man to rest yesterday:

While serving in Iraq, Wortham led soldiers over dangerous routes and worked with his mother to get school supplies for Iraqi children. In Englewood, he policed an impoverished and at times desperate place on the busy night shift. And in Chatham, his neighborhood, he defended the safe and loving environment where he was raised against encroaching violence by leading a community group.

On Friday, from those who hold the highest offices in this state to the sister who played with him on those Chatham streets, a promise was made in Wortham's name: Nobody is giving up.

I sure hope not, for his memory's sake.

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There's another special group that honors Memorial Day here in Chicago, and it's not who you think -- it's circus veterans. Go here for the whole cool story.

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Off to Dreamland

I frequently have dreams that go on all night long. I've been known to wake up mid dream, go to the bathroom, stumble back to bed, and pick up the dream just where it left off. Usually I vividly remember them on waking, but an hour later can barely remember bits and pieces, aware that I did, indeed dream and vaguely what it was about. Other times, though, the details remain crystal clear, usually when I've dreamed of The Princess Mom or Darling Daddy.*

I'm not one of those people who goes into the woo-woo too often, but, given the nature of my dreams from time to time, I do find comfort in this:

...[W]e do get visits from loved ones in dreams. If they are loving and positive, it's their spirit saying "hello". If the dream is filled with angst or a fight of some sort, it is your subconscious working out emotions you have yet to process.

Last night, the Divine Miss Marilyn visited my dreams, and stayed with me all night. Unlike a lot of my dreams of my felines where they run away and I chase them all night long with my heart in my throat and waves of panic, this was a peaceful dream, set in a beautiful place with vivid green meadows and shimmering blue ponds and waving golden grasses and sunlight.

I felt her lovely thick, wavy coat and hugged her to my chest and inhaled her scent -- a unique blend of sunbeams and Temptations -- and felt as well as heard her purrs.

Yes, she got right up in my face and tapped my cheek with her paw -- her way of saying, "Pay attention to me, dammit!"

Last night I had my cat back again for a while. After two years, you'd think I wouldn't miss her so much, but I do. And I'm incredibly grateful for the visit last night.

These Dreams

Spare a little candle, save some light for me.
Figures up ahead moving in the trees.
White skin in linen, perfume on my wrist,
And the full moon that hangs over these dreams in the mist.

Darkness on the edge, Shadows where I stand
I search for the time on a watch with no hands,
I want to see you clearly, Come closer than this
But all I remember are the dreams in the mist

CHORUS
These dreams go on when I close my eyes.
Every second of the night, I live another life.
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside,
Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away.

Is it cloak and dagger, could it be Spring or Fall?
I Walk without a cut through a stained-glass wall.
Weaker in my eyesight, a candle in my grip,
And words that have no form are falling from my lips.

CHORUS
These dreams go on when I close my eyes.
Every second of the night, I live another life.
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside,
Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away.

BRIDGE
There's something out there I can't resist.
I need to hide away from the pain.
There's something out there I can't resist.

The sweetest song is silence that I've ever heard.
Funny how your feet in dreams never touch the Earth.
In a wood full of princes, freedom is a kiss.
But the Prince hides his face from dreams in the mist.

CHORUS
These dreams go on when I close my eyes.
Every second of the night, I live another life.
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside,
Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away.

CHORUS
These dreams go on when I close my eyes.
Every second of the night, I live another life.
These dreams that sleep when it's cold outside,
Every moment I'm awake, the further I'm away.

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*And in my latest one of those dreams, The Princess Mom appeared as herself, but Darling Daddy appeared as Tom Ricketts. If you can figure out where that one came from, let me know, will you?

Drive-Bys

I see articles like this that lament the lack of library staff and resources, music and art programs, etc., and I think of the Princess Mom, who was so busy and influential in my own grade school:

While she wasn’t a huggy, kissy mother, she was an involved mother – room mother, den mother, picture lady, she also helped start up and run our elementary school’s library.

Instead of bemoaning what the state isn't giving us, maybe it's time to bring back volunteerism and bring moms and dads back into the classroom on a regular basis, at least until life gets back to "normal" -- whatever that may become.

I know mom was really hurt when she got told, "Thanks a lot for all you've done and don't let the door smack you in the ass on the way out," when the library was up and running and the school district decided to bring in a "real" librarian to run the joint... but she also had the satisfaction of knowing that the library wouldn't have existed in the first place without her and the handful of other moms who conceived it, stocked it, organized it and ran it first (and would probably still be running the darned thing today, given the chance).
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Super Squirrel? I want it. (Blame Helen.)
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I needed an uplifting story today. This one did it:

The night of the fire, I sat at a laptop in the hotel room, eating a takeout order of sesame chicken and answering those e-mails. Dona was asleep, nearly crowded out of the bed by two dogs that couldn't get close enough. Over and over, I read these simple messages offering support and help.

I cracked open the fortune cookie.

"Your wealth is where your friends are."

Too right.
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Easter is coming. Time for Peeps on Parade! (Stop back, as more photos are added daily.)
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Ear Worm of the Day:


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I recently had a dream that included Rahm Emanuel and William Shatner doing a skit wherein they were both channeling smart-ass dogs (black & tan, short coats, Doberman mixes) and Becky (with a boyfriend 10 years her junior in tow) in the same night. While you wrap your head around that odd combination, keep in mind that wasn't as nutty as this... and I don't speak out loud like this.

Still... it was an odd one.

Trippin' After Dark

see more Lolcats and funny pictures

Last night I had a dream that lasted all night long, and, because I sleep with the radio on, this story influenced the dream heavily. You see, I went to NIU from the fall of 1976 through December of 1977.

Somehow in my dream, I was back at NIU as an adult. I'd been given a single apartment on the first floor in a very busy dormitory building. I went off to class, and found myself very comfortable with the curriculum, and looking forward to doing well.

After the first day of classes I went back to my apartment, only to find that there were several older women and their suitcases milling around my small living room. I got a bit upset and threw them all out, then headed out to find a resident advisor to figure out who let them in and make sure it didn't happen again.

Of course, I got waylaid and dragged into a cultural event taking place in the lobby -- a ballet of sorts, where they kept dragging people from the audience up on stage and into the dance. Lucky me, I got chosen.

A prima ballerina and her partner were leading the whole thing, and somehow we ended up dancing together in a very elaborate collaboration (shades of Tim Burton), with the whole corps de ballet behind us, when suddenly a cell phone went off. The prima ballerina held up a hand, everybody stopped, and she hauled a cell phone out from underneath her tutu.

While she chattered away in French with whomever was on the line, the male dancer gave me a quizzical look. I winked at him, and he made a silly face back at me.

The prima ballerina snapped the phone shut and then announced there'd been a shooting and the whole building was locked down, and directed that we should go back to our rooms and lock ourselves in.

I headed back to my apartment, only to find a Polish maid dragging an Electrolux vacuum around the place and a bunch more old ladies and their suitcases in my living room.

I threw up my hands in disgust and asked what they were doing in my apartment. One of the ladies explained that, since I'd registered late, I got the apartment usually assigned to visiting professors. "Young lady, they've put you in CANADA," she said.

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" I said.

Then I woke up.

(And no, this was not a catnip-induced dream.)

Drive-Bys

Giggle of the Day, Part I:


see more dog and puppy pictures

How much do you want to bet that's what this fool was thinking?
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Giggle of the Day, Part II:

Jan 27 2010

"They're not smile lines, they're stretch marks. Cock sucker."

"My donkey. That's MY donkey. Get off my donkey! You know, you're not some superstar donkey jockey. Piss off."



"Yes, I can get away with wearing leather chaps. Just not on a windy day."

Heh.
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Loooooooooooooooo-see! Someone's got a LOT of 'splainin' to do:

Hundreds of documents, including 2009 W-2 forms, investment account balances and job applications -- many with Social Security numbers -- were found blowing in the wind around Touhy and Eastview Drive.

The Tribune learned about the airborne paper trail from a reader's tip and contacted some of the people and companies listed on the documents. No one could say where the paperwork came from, but because some of it was partially destroyed, a few speculated that a shredding company was to blame.

Yeesh!
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The Daily Douche Bag:

Jessica Kathleen Alexander, 18, and Tammy Nicole Ortega, 29, are douche bags. Ho's, too, and really cheap ones, at that.

Whoever in the school system elected to go to the police and not to the parents of these two kids is a douche bag. And so are the police and the prosecuting attorneys who are pursuing this.
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Great Reader is still on hiatus, but the party must go on. "It's Friday! Let's Dance!"

Billy Sweetfeets starts off the dancing with The Llama Song.

Personally, I'm up for a little Thin Lizzy:



How 'bout you? Join the party!

Update: Look! It's a new one from the Dancing Inmates of Cebu Provincial Detention and Rehabilitation Center.

Update 2: I said, "Let's Dance!" NOT "Let's Skants!"

Drive-Bys

I know Old Crankypants was a stone atheist, but I'm convinced he was surprised as hell to find himself hanging around in the ether after all.

Why?

Jan 19 2010

"My bagder's [sic] gonna unleash hell on your ass. Badgertastic!"

"No, not the cats. Don't trust them. Their eyes. Their eyes. They know too much."

"Just look at yourself. Yeah, now look at me. You don't stand a chance. It must suck to be you, I'm sure."

Robbie is whispering in the ear of the Sleep Talkin' Man every once in a while.

And that makes me smile.
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Why do I read Roissy? Sometimes he'll post something that just makes me grin. Like this. Brutally honest... but funny.
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I have Contagion on the brain. I can't figure out why, though...
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The Daily Douche Bag:

A Georgia woman is in jail after police say she forced her son to kill his pet hamster with a hammer as punishment for bad grades.

Lynn Middlebrooks Geter is an incredible Douche Bag.
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I am very happy to hear that my favorite Grouchy Old Cripple is healing fast. Geeze! He survives a bunch of drunken Jawja Blown-Eyes helping his own alcohol-fueled crippledy self down the stairway to Hell along side the Chatahoochee, but gets knocked upside the head when he's actually doing something relatively safely?

Yeah, he's another atheist, but I prayed for his recovery anyway. (He had to get better! He's the only blodger, Blown-Eyed or Blown Star, who brings me three bottle of wine to every blodgemeet. And he lets me sing harmony on occasion.)



Smooches, Denny!
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Great Reader is still on hiatus, so I'll say it for him: "It's Friday! Let's Dance!"



I don't know about you, but my toes are tapping!

Drive-Bys

Great Reader is still on hiatus, so I'm declaring, "It's Friday! Let's Dance!" This little toe-tapper has been rattling around my brain box from the moment I got up this morning:



Want to join the dance party? Throw up a post at your site and add a link in the comments here.
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I think I found a girlfriend for Donald Mills:

grandma: You need to tell that brother of yours to get bigger pants. That boy’s drawers are like a cheap hotel-there’s no ballroom.

Well?
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I believe Adam and El Capitan must be meeting out there in dreamland:

"Butt cheeks ahoy! There she blows!"

"You can't be a pirate if you don't have a beard. I said so. MY boat, MY rules."

"We haven't got a plank. Just fucking jump."

Heh.
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I guess if you want to be more equal than others, you need to join a union:

Big Labor got some big love from President Obama and congressional Democrats yesterday after they agreed to exempt union workers from the whopping “Cadillac tax” on high-cost health-care plans until 2018.

The sweetheart deal, hammered out behind closed doors, will save union employees at least $60 billion over the years involved, while others won't be as lucky -- they'll have to cough up almost $90 billion.

The 40 percent excise tax on what have come to be called "Cadillac" health-care plans would exempt collective-bargaining contracts covering government employees and other union members until Jan. 1, 2018.

Would someone please explain to me just how this is constitutional?

And about that transparency thing? It's so not working for me.

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Daily Douche Bags:

Danny Glover is a douche bag. Rush Limbaugh is a cagey douche bag. Anyone who even has to ask the following question is a douche bag:

Perhaps the most important is whether the state should establish specialized nursing home wards or even separate facilities for the most dangerous residents -- those with violent backgrounds who pose a threat to others. Sullivan's group and many advocates say Illinois must stop mixing dangerous and vulnerable residents.

The issue "still perplexes us and is something for which we need additional discussion," Gelder said. "This is one of the central issues in the concerns about keeping people safe,"

Yes, indeedy -- Gelder is a douche bag.
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I don't know about you, but I'd rather bake a pie than a cake; thus, I found this tip very interesting:

Freezing your lard and butter ahead of time and using a box grater to shred it into the floured mixing bowl effortlessly ends in the sort of coarse, crumbly, flake-inducing dough that is generally considered the platonic ideal. Just grate, moisten, give a quick stir and a light knead, cover in plastic and chill for 30 minutes.

Cool!
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My favorite actor, Brian Dennehy, is in town for a run at the Goodman Theatre. Anybody interested in joining me? (It'd be worth it just to see me go all girly over just being in the same room with the fabulous Dennehy. He blows my skirt up. Trust me.)
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Add Jimmy Kimmel to the list of people whom I never thought I'd find myself respecting as a result of the Conan/Leno/NBC mess. But I do now.
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Happy weekend, all!

Drive-Bys

Notorious P.I.G.s.

Ugh.
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I've never been a Conan O'Brien fan. I think his humor is sophomoric, at best.

However, I've really come to respect Conan tremendously in the past couple of days. If this comes true, I'll be very sorry to hear it.

I never thought I'd say the words, but Conan is a class act, and he certainly doesn't deserve this.
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$73 million? I guess I'd better buy a ticket...
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Giggle of the Day:


see more Engrish

(And in my head I can hear, "Houston, we have a promble!")
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Why do I love Mrs. Who?

No thanks, I’ll take my hormone replacement therapy from Jack. Daniels, that is. And I’ll let my ass take care of itself.

A woman after my own heart!
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So I found another time-waster that had me in absolute stitches today:

Jan 12 2010

"I'm making pillows. Burn them slowly, keeps them fluffy! Mmmmmm, pillows."

"Potato bags. I can't find my potato bags. I need them! [desperately] Who's got my potato bags? Oh, fuck it! I'll have to use something else."

"Dogs' scrotums. They stretch."

"Pork chops are most satisfying. Mmmmmmm. Dangle them from the ceiling."

Wife's note: After we listened to the recording, Adam turned to me and said, "I've never had pork chops."

Go visit Sleep Talkin' Man and view the hilarity. You'll be hooked, I promise!

(As for me, I'm thinking I really need this tee shirt. Although they're all funny...)
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Who's a douche bag? Pat Robertson is a douche bag. Wallace "Gator" Bradley is a douche bag. William F. Galvin is a douche bag. Barney Franks is an even bigger douche bag.

Douche bags: Collect 'em all.
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