Talk about the weather

You know how on your homepage you put the little weather thingies? You get to pick several locations? Know what I'm talking about? I was thinking that what I choose for those weather spots says alot about me. I just bet they say alot about everyone who uses them. Here are mine, and why:

-Nestlewood, obviously
-Peebles, Scotland because I should be living there as it is never hot and I just know there is a kilted Scottish laird there waiting for me
-Salem, MA, because I want to be there during the month of October every year, world without end
-Savannah, GA to reassure myself that somewhere in the US it is at least a little hotter and muggier than it is here in Alabama
-San Fransisco, CA, because that is where Sweet Bruhver lives now
-Blowing Rock, NC, because if I could move anywhere in the US, this would be where I would move
Cozumel, Mexico because we will be there next week and I want to make sure no hurricanes are going to get us

It's 3AM and I'm not lonely

I woke up a couple of hours ago thinking about Edward VIII and Wallis Warfield Simpson. I told myself that I should go back to sleep, curled up in the bed for about 30 minutes and it didn't happen so I got up.

I think I have realized why insomnia is kind of okay with me. It's my time. No kids need anything, husband doesn't need anything from me, the phone is not going to ring. As long as I'm quiet and don't wake anybody up, my time is my own. The fact is, I've been "on call" 24/7, for nearly 11 years, since Thumbelina was born. Really, no one but a mother can understand that statement. The "where-are-the-kids-and-what-do-they-need" radar blipped on in the Fall of 1997, and it hasn't been off since.

This covers everything from meeting their basics (nourishment, cleanliness and warmth) to being careful what I watch or read or say around them. In the wee small hours of the morning, I know the babies are fine and will likely sleep for at least a few more hours. Chris is at work and won't be home for a few more hours. The whole wide world assumes I'm fast asleep. So, these middle of the night wanderings are my own little private world, where it's just me and my thoughts.

Insomnia, Party of Two

I'm going on an interview tomorrow (well, in about 4 hours actually). The hospital is about 15 miles from home, but when home is Nestlewood, which is on the back 40 of everywhere, 15 miles is "just next door".

The thing is, I have to take another 3 hour test. People. Did I or did I not just graduate Cum Laude with a freakin' degree? Why must I keep taking all these tests? I want to work in the Medical Records department of a hospital. Medical. Records. I will save no lives, the fate of the world will not rest on my shoulders. WTF with all these tests? And? And!! I have a national board exam scheduled for August 11, as if I didn't have enough tests to worry about!

Oh, law! You know what else? Sure, I am an insomniac, but now Huck is too. It's 3AM and I'm piddling at the computer, hoping I will get sleepy sometime in the near future, and I hear the pitter patter of his feet. He woke up and came to my room to crawl in the bed with me and couldn't find me. Understand, now, Lina and Pebbles (my dog) were already in my bed, having awakened to find Mama. Chris works 3rd shift, so I called him while he was at work and started the conversation with "why do I have to keep taking these freakin' tests?" To which he replied "Honey-darlin-sweetie-love. It's 3 in the morning." And then the phone rang in his department and he had to go and save someone's life, so I was on my own.

Oh, wait, I'm not on my own. Huck just came to me and said that he will just watch TV until I come back to bed. My reply? "Okay, just not Adult Swim", which he says is hilarious...Did I mention it's 3AM?

The whole reason I woke up in the first place is because I was dreaming of serial killers who knocked on doors in the middle of the night. Whoever answered was their next victim. Unfortunately, I and an intern from the TV show "ER" (which I haven't watched since Dr. Greene died) answered the door and were naive enough to go with them when they said they needed help. Then the killers proceeded to paint our faces with some sort of plaster medium to preserve them as death masks.

And I'm having a hot flash. The area under my boobs is soaked, as is my scalp. And my crotch, and my nightgown, for that matter.

Chairman of the Board

Yes. The Chairman of the Board. Frank Sinatra was a major figure in my dream last night. He was in concert locally and I paid 100s of dollars for tickets for me and my 3, + my parents to go and see him perform. I was the only one who enjoyed it. Mom, Dad, Chris, Lina and Huck kept getting up and leaving, asking when it would be over. They just didn't realize how huge it was to see Sinatra sing in a venue no larger than your average gymnasium. Sinatra actually called me by name and came and had a drink with me and took my request for a song. He had Malibu and pineapple and I had Scotch on the rocks
(which I would never do, as good Scotch need not be chilled or diluted). Nancy Sinatra was with him and they sang "Something Stupid", a song they recorded together in real life.

There was also a bit about a serial killer who liked to shoot people and set them on fire, leaving their C.O.D a mystery to the Pathologist. Naturally, all this was going on while I was trying to see Sinatra, though finding the killer was my responsibility as well.

Come on baby light my fire

Imagine the beginning organ part of this song. No really. Don't read any farther until you can hear it.

This organ theme was prevalent in my dream last night. A dream in which I literally had to eat SHIT. I was part of some crime scene investigation and no one else would do it, and it had to be done, so I did it. I distinctly remember digging it out of my teeth and gagging. I remember rinsing out my mouth and seeing brown water. (Anybody need to throw up yet?) I could smell it and I could taste it and I could feel it.

I really and truly woke myself up spitting. I wiped the spit off my chin and wondered what the hell that dream could have meant!

I have a few ideas of my own, but if anyone has any insight, I would be interested to hear it. This isn't exactly something I can find in a dream dictionary...

Also, this isn't the first time I have dreamed of having to get excrement out of my teeth. It's been a prevalent theme this past month.

The Sting

All this birthday recollecting made me dream about breastfeeding. Lord knows, I'm a pro. I nursed each of my children for a year. Lina has been weaned since 1998, and Huck since 2001, but I still feel that sting in my ducts whenever I hear a baby who just can't be consoled. My breasts want to leak milk to feed that baby, and even though there is no more milk in my breasts, nor will there ever be again, they tingle and sting in an effort to give any random baby what it needs.

Last night, this was the theme of my dream. I felt the sting and tingle of milk let-down (and if you have breastfed, you know exactly what I mean.) It was so strong in my dream last night, that, when I awakened, I expected to see that my nightgown was wet, as it often was back in the day.

I am done having babies. I have been duly sterilized and am proud of it. I didn't like being pregnant. I didn't like childbirth. I know that goes against the whole pagan/goddess thing, and I hate that. I really do. But the fact is, my pregnancies and childbirths were experiments in terror.

However, I loved breastfeeding. I would be a wet nurse, were there such a market these days. I don't wish for gestation or childbirth. I dream about nursing.

I can relate...

Know what is completely fabulous, yet a little twisted? My favorite aunt wants to donate her body to the Body Farm. She has aleady talked to her children about this, and, as they know and understand her, are cool with it. My aunt, BTW is the older one in the pic. My mom is the younger one.

Anyhoo, I know exactly how I want my body to be treated once my soul leaves this mortal coil. My eyes, as I am very close to legally blind, will be of no use to anyone. Because of my affection for chardonnay, my liver likely will not either. But everything else is to be donated to folks who need it. Just think of the glorious wig that can be made from my mahogany curls! My skin could be used for burn victims. My heart is strong. My lungs are the lungs of a singer! Therefore, stronger than the lungs of the average bear.

Whatever is leftover can be incinerated. The ashes can then be scattered. And Annie Lenox (Into the West) , Libera ( Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep) and Kansas (well, obviously, Dust in the Wind)can sing while all those whom I loved and love me to eat, drink and be merry.