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nothing profound 2001-09-14 Last night I dreamt I needed brain surgery--that the two halves of my brain weren't connected and that's why I get such bad pms. The scariest thing about it is that my mom was going to do the surgery, and she is not medically trained. There was an ice cream scooper laid out as a tool, and she was going to connect the halves of my brain with a metal clamp-y thing. She scalped me a little bit too, and thankfully I woke up before the surgery started. She was doing the surgery because I couldn't afford to pay a doctor for it. I also needed heart surgery but apparently the brain surgery was more urgent. Not restful, let me tell ya. Francisco's mother came over last night and we had French martinis (Chambourd and vodka) and a chicken stir-fry and watched a little tv, and then I got mad at F's mom. I won't go into the whole thing but it was a disagreement about Israel. She feels that Israel is ordained by god and I feel that is ridiculous and that the US shouldn't be involved in what is essentially a religious war. I know people have strong opinions about the Israel issue, so if you disagree then please talk amonst yourselves, because I will not be changing my mind. We made up before she left but I felt good about the argument because I usually just keep my mouth shut when she says things I disagree with and don't show that I'm mad. This is progress; finally, after 12 years. I'm glad I'm not blonde and tan. I was walking today at lunch and a blonde, tan girl jogged past me, heading the same direction, and I observed her getting ogled by a truckful of men. They were pretty blatant and I just felt relief that I don't have to deal with that kind of attention. There was a time in my life I might have enjoyed it a little, but now I prefer to be left alone, no matter how ogle-able I might be on any particular day. :-) On Wednesday morning I drove to work in the truck with a strange rattle coming from the passenger side door. When I got to work I went around to investigate, and sticking out of the lock were Francisco's keys. Boy had borrowed them the night before to retrieve a toy, and apparently had just left them in the lock. I panicked a little, knowing Francisco needed to leave for work soon, and if I had to drive the keys back he might be late, but then I remembered that we have a valet key for the car, and he has an extra housekey, so I called him and told him I had his keys and it was no biggie. But they were outside all night and the housekey was on there, and they could've fallen out of the lock when I was driving, so I was happy disasters of various types hadn't happened. Boy is irresponsible, but we're trying to fix that. There is no real point to this story. It feels strange to be writing about mundane things, because I feel like I shouldn't be, yet at the same time I feel like I should make the effort, because life has continued to go on and hopefully will continue to continue and either I write about mundane things or I don't write at all. Last night after Francisco's mom left, I cried for the first time about all those poor dead people and all their grieving relatives and friends. I mean, I had shed a few tears here and there, but last night was the real crying. I can't imagine how long the relatives and friends will spend crying. It's all so overwhelming. I hope you have a good weekend, or as good as you can. I have no plans other than to plant some Fall annuals. Yardwork will be comforting, and selfishly, that's what I'm after. Love to all,
come over some time & see me - 2011-02-25 |
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