'Cause my mother called a couple of days ago to tell me of a dream she had about me, and it was a doozy!
Here it goes: I was getting married, see (ha--fat chance), and had asked her to stand up with me, and because it was a morning wedding, I wanted her to wear lingerie. (But of course. What else would one wear to a "morning" wedding?) Well, she didn't have any lingerie she thought was appropriate (go ahead and try to imagine the lingerie that WOULD be appropriate for a 67-year-old woman to wear at her daughter's wedding--I'll wait), and she was very stressed about it. At some point while she was fretting about her lack of suitable garments, I showed up, dressed for the wedding, in a bright purple outfit that included a little jacket. "Oh, she's wearing purple...then I should wear white." (Because of course the only thing less appropriate than wearing lingerie to your daughter's wedding is wearing white to your daughter's wedding.) The jacket kept falling open, and she noticed with horror that it exposed my boobs. My HAIRY boobs. Yes, you heard that right (and you really must imagine my mother giggling insanely as she related this point)--my boobs were hairy. She kept trying to subtly reach over and close the jacket so nobody could see them, but apparently I had no such qualms re: the display of the hairy boobs and kept slapping her hands away.
Her question to me (and now my question to you): "What the heck do you suppose THAT means?"
Come on, throw some interpretations at me. The more entertaining the better. I could use some laughs.
'Cause I'm DEPRESSED. I'm dealing with it the best I can, but I am S-A-D SAD. Some time next week I will see New Guy for the last time. (The last time ever? Who knows. I don't know.) It does look like we may actually get a little alone time--his son is going to stay with his grandmother for a few days while New Guy packs and loads, and his teenaged stepson is going to come back with him to help, instead, and TS should be okay entertaining himself for a couple of hours while New Guy and I go to dinner or something. (I'm hoping for "something," myself.)
So, umm....maybe your dream interpretations on my impending nuptials should NOT include references to New Guy, 'kay?
And, in "creepy slackers next door" news, last night I was outside with Pudge about 10:30, when we heard the back gate next door creak open, and somebody in a dark hoodie slithered through to the back of the yard where the chairs are currently located under the trees. The yard is really, really dark, so I can only assume one of the dudes felt the need for a bit of late-night stargazing in his buddy's backyard. Pudge barked like crazy, as did every other dog within earshot, and I HOPE IT WOKE THEIR KIDS UP!!! (Is that hateful of me? I'm not wishing permanent distress on the kids, just that they made their parents' lives hell for a moment or two, before going peacefully back to sleep.) There were a couple of guys outside today when I went home for lunch, and when Pudge went crazy barking at them, for the first time, instead of saying "it's okay, boy" in a soothing tone, I said "Good boy!" And glared at the dudes.
This may soon require action on my part. Gah.