I know a young lady, 24, who has two kids. I met her at college, she seems like a nice kid, (Kid, where did the time go?), drug and alcohol free, she was living with her mother and stepfather, trying to hold a job down and go to school. I helped her find an apartment last week, low income housing, as she was having trouble getting along in a small house with two kids where she really wasn't wanted.
I go to lunch with her between classes, we study together over french fries and coffee. Yesterday I received a frantic call from her. "What are you doing", she asked. "I'm sitting here doing some homework and being lazy", I tell her. Something about her voice set of alarms in my head, so I said, "You Ok?" She said she had an argument with her mother, her step dad just pushed her and all her stuff was now sitting in the front yard, could I come and help her pick up her stuff, could I let her and her two kids stay with me until she could get in her apartment?
She can move into the apartment on December 1st, a few days away. Ok, I agreed to come over and stuff my car with her stuff and let her stay here. We loaded her car to the roof, loaded my car to the roof, drove it all here and put it in the shed, then headed back for another load, this time we found a friend with a pick up truck. We loaded his truck to the gills, stuff on the front seat, boxes unpacked and shoved into any available corner of his truck, and did likewise with my car. It's the next day and we have two cars in the driveway stuffed to the roof, still to be moved into the shed. Her kids were on the way back from Iowa, on a visit with their Father and his family. They arrived at 4am this morning. We had to drive to the Walmart parking lot to meet them as they would have NEVER found this place in the daylight, never mind the dark of night.
Two very tired, confused and worried children piled out of their carseats and into my car, questions tumbling out of their little 4 and 6 year old mouths. They are very well behaved, I put them on the couch and they went right to sleep.
What about living on the street in third grade? That is the young mother's story, she missed third grade because she was following her mother around from drug house to drug house, wearing her mothers cloths, until her father found her and took her to his house. She stayed away from the mother until she grew up, just last year came to live with her, well, that didn't work out, so for the next few days I have a surrogate daughter and two surrogate grandkids. Should be fun!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Quitting is not an option
I'm taking an algebra class at the local college. It's been a really, REALLY hard hill to climb, but I'm getting it. I discovered today that I'm confused in class NOT because I'm dumb but because the instructer goes, 1) too fast and 2) jumps all over the map before anyone can figure out what she's doing. Today I was (for the first time in my LIFE) ahead of the teacher. I jumped ahead in the book and pre-learned stuff she hadn't covered yet. I got it, my homework was a breeze, I GET it.
In class today, she covered the above-mentioned lesson. Even though I knew the material, she had me lost in no time. I sat back to observe, why was I lost? What happened to my hard-earned knowledge? She was writing and demonstrating problem 'A'. A student asked a question about problem "A' and she scrapped problem 'A' and started a whole new one. Same concept, different numbers. I looked around, the students were frantically writing out the new problem, and by the time they got it written down, she was DONE doing it and moving on. Another student asked her to slow down, could she explain the new problem step by step.
Are you ready? She scrapped THAT one and wrote out a THIRD one to demonstrate. Again, the students frantically wrote the equation down and by the time they got it on paper and looked back up to the TV to watch her do the problem, she was done again.
The student next to me tossed her pen down and sat back, looking at me in exasperation. She slipped a note over to me; 'I'm so lost!' the note said. I slipped an answer back to her.
'Get a problem out of your book that provides an answer, then play with the thing until you figure out how the book arrived at that answer, you'll learn alot' was my note. The poor kid closed her book and walked out.
It has taken me three months to get over my fear of the evil numbers that chased me in my dreams, and realize I CAN DO THIS. Will I ace the next test? Probably not, but I won't fail it either. I was going to quit the class, take the zero and figure the book out on my own. I took a week and a half off, just skipped class, but I didn't quit.
To my great sister, I thank her for the tall, refreshing glass of confidence she gives me when I need it!!
In class today, she covered the above-mentioned lesson. Even though I knew the material, she had me lost in no time. I sat back to observe, why was I lost? What happened to my hard-earned knowledge? She was writing and demonstrating problem 'A'. A student asked a question about problem "A' and she scrapped problem 'A' and started a whole new one. Same concept, different numbers. I looked around, the students were frantically writing out the new problem, and by the time they got it written down, she was DONE doing it and moving on. Another student asked her to slow down, could she explain the new problem step by step.
Are you ready? She scrapped THAT one and wrote out a THIRD one to demonstrate. Again, the students frantically wrote the equation down and by the time they got it on paper and looked back up to the TV to watch her do the problem, she was done again.
The student next to me tossed her pen down and sat back, looking at me in exasperation. She slipped a note over to me; 'I'm so lost!' the note said. I slipped an answer back to her.
'Get a problem out of your book that provides an answer, then play with the thing until you figure out how the book arrived at that answer, you'll learn alot' was my note. The poor kid closed her book and walked out.
It has taken me three months to get over my fear of the evil numbers that chased me in my dreams, and realize I CAN DO THIS. Will I ace the next test? Probably not, but I won't fail it either. I was going to quit the class, take the zero and figure the book out on my own. I took a week and a half off, just skipped class, but I didn't quit.
To my great sister, I thank her for the tall, refreshing glass of confidence she gives me when I need it!!
Saturday, November 21, 2009
A Visit to Hellen Kellers House
Today was an interesting day. I started the morning off with my usual cup of coffee and strong sense of boredom. I've been sort of 'shut down' for just about six weeks due to having a cast on my right arm. that changes on Monday, my arm will be free.
But back to today: Where was I? Oh, yes, Bored-Outta-My-Ever-Lovin'-Mind. I decided that I was going to go find a mall. Having come from a HUGE city (compared to my current tiny town), I was jones-ing big time for a mall, an Olive Garden, Panera Bread, anything OTHER than Sonic or McDonalds. Where to go, where to find a mall? Hmm, Nashville would work. NAH, been there, done that. I know, I'll go south, into Alabama. The city of Florence is not too far across the line, Yeah, I'll go there.
Being a big-bad tough truck driver for ever, I figured didn't need a map, so off I go. I accidentally got on the Florence bypass, (hey, at least Florence is big enough for a by-pass!) and found myself in a small town named Tuscumbia. NO, I wasn't lost, just temporarily misplaced. Or just riding around, or, well, ok, I wasn't sure which way Florence was at this point. I decided to take a right at the next light and it was there that my day's destiny was changed. The sign on the sidewalk read, 'Helen Keller birth place' and the arrow indicated 'this-o-way'.
Cool, I thought, as I obeyed the arrow instructions and turned that-o-way. I wandered through the old town of Tuscumbia (where ever that was in relation to Florence) following 'this-o-way' signs until I happened upon a bigger 'Here you are!" sign. The house sat back from the road, surrounded by huge, 200 year old trees and a perfectly manicured yard. I noticed that one of the shutters on a window was sagging slightly. Entering the house I found my self in a breezeway, typical of old homes, where two older women greeted me and took my 6 bucks for a tour.
They explained the life of Helen Keller, her teacher Annie Sullivan, and said that most of the furnishings and clothing I would see on the tour were original. The first room to the right as I walked through the breezeway was the parents room and some vintage cloths. To the left was the parlor. There was a fire place in there, a Victorian style sofa, Mr. Kellers desk and an old pump organ.
The organ was small, with beautiful guilded scrolling on it. The two foot pedals were covered with a cloth that was much like burlap and very ornate. The keys were smaller than today's piano or organ keys, and the key board itself was very short. I believe it was 61 keys. There were 4 'stop' knobs, two on each side of the keyboard, on the back board. In front of it was a small, round stool, on claw legs that were carved very nicely. The seat was covered with a buttoned velvet, tan in color. So what do I do? I open my big mouth and say:
"That looks like it would be fun to play!" Well, these tow old ladies lit up like lightning bugs mating in the spring, and clasping their hands under their chins, squeal in unison,
"Can you play it?" "Well," I started to stammer, " I guess I could figure out a song on it."
End of conversation, right? NOT! I continued my tour, walked around the grounds and headed for my car. From behind me I hear, "Oh, you come back, you promised to play the organ for us!"
Oh, boy, what did I get myself into, I wonder? I DID play one once, about a million years ago, so here goes nothing. They nearly dragged me into the house again, got the tiny padlock key out and unlocked the gate into the parlor. Next thing you know, I'm sitting on a 100 year old stool in front of a hundred year old organ.
Tentatively, I press one of the pedals, yup, it worked, I could feel pressure building as i pumped air into the antique. I played a few notes, it sounded wonderful. The sound was bold and rich.
"Aren't you supposed to pump both pedals," another tourist asked me. "Yes", I say and get both my feet moving. I played Amazing Grace on it. It took a lot of balance and strength to stay on the stool while I pedaled (like riding a bike) and played. With each push of my feet, my body wanted to lean back. I heard murmurs of appreciation behind me and requests to play more. I declined, the old instrument probably hadn't been played in years and I didn't want to be the one to break it.
I took advantage of being allowed into the off limits area and looked closely at some of the things in the room. Helen's braille book, a family photo album, the fine china set on the dining room table and the silver tea set from England. I was really honored, to get such a treat for a lousy 6 bucks and a 70 mile drive!
But back to today: Where was I? Oh, yes, Bored-Outta-My-Ever-Lovin'-Mind. I decided that I was going to go find a mall. Having come from a HUGE city (compared to my current tiny town), I was jones-ing big time for a mall, an Olive Garden, Panera Bread, anything OTHER than Sonic or McDonalds. Where to go, where to find a mall? Hmm, Nashville would work. NAH, been there, done that. I know, I'll go south, into Alabama. The city of Florence is not too far across the line, Yeah, I'll go there.
Being a big-bad tough truck driver for ever, I figured didn't need a map, so off I go. I accidentally got on the Florence bypass, (hey, at least Florence is big enough for a by-pass!) and found myself in a small town named Tuscumbia. NO, I wasn't lost, just temporarily misplaced. Or just riding around, or, well, ok, I wasn't sure which way Florence was at this point. I decided to take a right at the next light and it was there that my day's destiny was changed. The sign on the sidewalk read, 'Helen Keller birth place' and the arrow indicated 'this-o-way'.
Cool, I thought, as I obeyed the arrow instructions and turned that-o-way. I wandered through the old town of Tuscumbia (where ever that was in relation to Florence) following 'this-o-way' signs until I happened upon a bigger 'Here you are!" sign. The house sat back from the road, surrounded by huge, 200 year old trees and a perfectly manicured yard. I noticed that one of the shutters on a window was sagging slightly. Entering the house I found my self in a breezeway, typical of old homes, where two older women greeted me and took my 6 bucks for a tour.
They explained the life of Helen Keller, her teacher Annie Sullivan, and said that most of the furnishings and clothing I would see on the tour were original. The first room to the right as I walked through the breezeway was the parents room and some vintage cloths. To the left was the parlor. There was a fire place in there, a Victorian style sofa, Mr. Kellers desk and an old pump organ.
The organ was small, with beautiful guilded scrolling on it. The two foot pedals were covered with a cloth that was much like burlap and very ornate. The keys were smaller than today's piano or organ keys, and the key board itself was very short. I believe it was 61 keys. There were 4 'stop' knobs, two on each side of the keyboard, on the back board. In front of it was a small, round stool, on claw legs that were carved very nicely. The seat was covered with a buttoned velvet, tan in color. So what do I do? I open my big mouth and say:
"That looks like it would be fun to play!" Well, these tow old ladies lit up like lightning bugs mating in the spring, and clasping their hands under their chins, squeal in unison,
"Can you play it?" "Well," I started to stammer, " I guess I could figure out a song on it."
End of conversation, right? NOT! I continued my tour, walked around the grounds and headed for my car. From behind me I hear, "Oh, you come back, you promised to play the organ for us!"
Oh, boy, what did I get myself into, I wonder? I DID play one once, about a million years ago, so here goes nothing. They nearly dragged me into the house again, got the tiny padlock key out and unlocked the gate into the parlor. Next thing you know, I'm sitting on a 100 year old stool in front of a hundred year old organ.
Tentatively, I press one of the pedals, yup, it worked, I could feel pressure building as i pumped air into the antique. I played a few notes, it sounded wonderful. The sound was bold and rich.
"Aren't you supposed to pump both pedals," another tourist asked me. "Yes", I say and get both my feet moving. I played Amazing Grace on it. It took a lot of balance and strength to stay on the stool while I pedaled (like riding a bike) and played. With each push of my feet, my body wanted to lean back. I heard murmurs of appreciation behind me and requests to play more. I declined, the old instrument probably hadn't been played in years and I didn't want to be the one to break it.
I took advantage of being allowed into the off limits area and looked closely at some of the things in the room. Helen's braille book, a family photo album, the fine china set on the dining room table and the silver tea set from England. I was really honored, to get such a treat for a lousy 6 bucks and a 70 mile drive!
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Frankenstien is young and handsome
Really, he is! I went to his office today, and, ooohh, boy, was he a looker! Young, buff, with dark wavey hair, dark eyes, and his smile, oh, a smile that would melt the wicked witch of the west.
And I got the honor of his full attention for a whole half hour. Oh, I felt SO lucky, to be in the presense of such a famous and handsome man! He chatted with me, small talk, showed such concern for my needs, I was truely smitten..
He smiled at me, I smiled back, then he said, "this won't hurt much." My heart skipped a beat, was he going to hug me or torture me? I started to worry. "What won't hurt", I asked, starting to wonder if this whole thing was a dream (nightmare?). He turned his back for a moment to pick something up, and to my horror, it was a, a, a PROBE thingy, with wires attatched, his warm smile started to look a little sinister..
"Wha, what are you going to do with that thing?" I asked. He answered with a professor-like disertation on how he was going to send shocks through my arm and hand, reiterated that it wouldn't hurt much, but I might feel a bit of discomfort. A BIT? Can I go now? Mr. Handsome-dark-haired-smiling-famous-guy put some sticky papers on my arm, hooked up some wires to it, and, smiling warmly at me, stuck the probes on my arm.
OUCH! Mr. Monster (as I thought of him by now) smiled warmly and had the nerve to say, "Good." He shocked me several more times, each time smiling and saying how good it was.
I'm thinking at this point, 'touch me with that thing again and we're gonna go at it and you ain't gonna like it, mister'!! He must have read my mind, because he declared once more that it was good, (what, are you god now, you did it and saw it was good??), and put the prong thingy down, pulled my sticker-thingy's off and put the wires away. Whew. Can I go now?
Oh, no, Dr. Frankenstien wasn't done with me yet. He pulled out a NEEDLE, it looked like a darning needle that might have come out of my knitting basket. "What are you going to do with THAT?" I asked, fear welling up like a tidal wave. I SWEAR I heard him chuckle, sinister creep that he was. "I'm going to poke you and listen to the sound waves". Yeah, sound waves that will surely come from my screams of agony! He poked me once on the palm of my hand, and seeming to enjoy my discomfort, proceeded to poke me 3 more times, drawing blood once. Now I was sure I hated him, he was ugly, mean and evil!
He got done poking and shocking me, gave me a kleenex to wipe up the blood and declared that there was no visable nerve damage to my hand. Oh, maybe there wasn't when I came in here but now my whole arm is jumping like a scared armidillo!
The purpose of this torture, um, I mean test, was to find out why I am having pain and weakness in my right hand. Darn right I have pain, after being shocked and poked with a 6 inch needle! At least he didn't put bolts in my neck.
And I got the honor of his full attention for a whole half hour. Oh, I felt SO lucky, to be in the presense of such a famous and handsome man! He chatted with me, small talk, showed such concern for my needs, I was truely smitten..
He smiled at me, I smiled back, then he said, "this won't hurt much." My heart skipped a beat, was he going to hug me or torture me? I started to worry. "What won't hurt", I asked, starting to wonder if this whole thing was a dream (nightmare?). He turned his back for a moment to pick something up, and to my horror, it was a, a, a PROBE thingy, with wires attatched, his warm smile started to look a little sinister..
"Wha, what are you going to do with that thing?" I asked. He answered with a professor-like disertation on how he was going to send shocks through my arm and hand, reiterated that it wouldn't hurt much, but I might feel a bit of discomfort. A BIT? Can I go now? Mr. Handsome-dark-haired-smiling-famous-guy put some sticky papers on my arm, hooked up some wires to it, and, smiling warmly at me, stuck the probes on my arm.
OUCH! Mr. Monster (as I thought of him by now) smiled warmly and had the nerve to say, "Good." He shocked me several more times, each time smiling and saying how good it was.
I'm thinking at this point, 'touch me with that thing again and we're gonna go at it and you ain't gonna like it, mister'!! He must have read my mind, because he declared once more that it was good, (what, are you god now, you did it and saw it was good??), and put the prong thingy down, pulled my sticker-thingy's off and put the wires away. Whew. Can I go now?
Oh, no, Dr. Frankenstien wasn't done with me yet. He pulled out a NEEDLE, it looked like a darning needle that might have come out of my knitting basket. "What are you going to do with THAT?" I asked, fear welling up like a tidal wave. I SWEAR I heard him chuckle, sinister creep that he was. "I'm going to poke you and listen to the sound waves". Yeah, sound waves that will surely come from my screams of agony! He poked me once on the palm of my hand, and seeming to enjoy my discomfort, proceeded to poke me 3 more times, drawing blood once. Now I was sure I hated him, he was ugly, mean and evil!
He got done poking and shocking me, gave me a kleenex to wipe up the blood and declared that there was no visable nerve damage to my hand. Oh, maybe there wasn't when I came in here but now my whole arm is jumping like a scared armidillo!
The purpose of this torture, um, I mean test, was to find out why I am having pain and weakness in my right hand. Darn right I have pain, after being shocked and poked with a 6 inch needle! At least he didn't put bolts in my neck.
Monday, August 17, 2009
DD's bed and bath (room)
I was rudely awakened around 4:30 this morning, not by the cat this time, but by a huge vice grip crushing my gut. After rolling around and trying to ignore it for a while, I decided maybe I better go visit the small room off my bedroom. It was there I found out why my gut was screaming. There was some kind of junk in it that needed to be removed.
I spent the next 4 or 5 hours removing junk, not really my idea of a fun time, but I guess I hadda do what I hadda do... and doooo, and dooo....
I think I lost about 5 pounds, but I digress. I am exhausted now, I slept all day, which is ok with me but my boss, or should I say now ex-boss, didn't believe me that I was too sick to come to work. Well I fixed her stupid butt, I called the girl that's filling in for me today and got her to fill in for me tomorrow, which, by the way, was supposed to be my last day.
The last time I was sick like this was in 2006, when I ate at a waffle house in Satsuma, Alabama, and got food poisoning. I wonder what I ate this time? Oh, I guess I'll survive, I have to, there's too much funny stuff out there in this crazy world to write about!
Meanwhile, the cat sits, looking at me, wondering when I'm going to get around to throwing his stuffed mouse for him. I see him planning a great revenge for my inactivity; He's probably going to try to wake me up in the middle of the night to play. Darned nocturnal fool....
I spent the next 4 or 5 hours removing junk, not really my idea of a fun time, but I guess I hadda do what I hadda do... and doooo, and dooo....
I think I lost about 5 pounds, but I digress. I am exhausted now, I slept all day, which is ok with me but my boss, or should I say now ex-boss, didn't believe me that I was too sick to come to work. Well I fixed her stupid butt, I called the girl that's filling in for me today and got her to fill in for me tomorrow, which, by the way, was supposed to be my last day.
The last time I was sick like this was in 2006, when I ate at a waffle house in Satsuma, Alabama, and got food poisoning. I wonder what I ate this time? Oh, I guess I'll survive, I have to, there's too much funny stuff out there in this crazy world to write about!
Meanwhile, the cat sits, looking at me, wondering when I'm going to get around to throwing his stuffed mouse for him. I see him planning a great revenge for my inactivity; He's probably going to try to wake me up in the middle of the night to play. Darned nocturnal fool....
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Nyuk, nyuk, nyuk, the evil one strikes
I hate my job, it's like going to 9th grade homeroom with no teacher, every stinking day. We hired a new girl, yes, girl! She's all of 21 or so, and acts like 15. She's been on the job for a few days and I got the Privilege (Huh?) of training her tonight. I also got the honor of working with another 20 or so year old kid. Now the second one, she does work, now and then, a bit scattered, but she will work. Well, when she's not hiding in the supply closet to call her boyfriend, who, go figure, doesn't have a job.
So 9th grader number one, the new one, likes to text, giggle, text some more, and then show off her received texts. One was a toilet with a huge tongue in it. EWWWYUK was my response. Well, it that one wasn't good enough for me, she showed me another one. A naked fat guy on all fours, the joke was, "Watch out for Swine Flu". "Ok, put the thing back in your pocket" was my evil response. To my surprise, the phone flashed back in the pocket as though I had a gun to her head. If only...... Nyuk, nyuk!
I put her on a job and dragged her back to it half a dozen times. The deli was really slow, we should have been able to get all the work done an hour early.. Yeah, right.
At 40 minutes before closing I called across the [class] room and said, with great old-person-authority, "WE HAVE 40 MINUTES AND THIS PLACE IS A MESS! LET'S GET DONE HERE!"
Again, to my great surprise, both girls jumped like I had put a hot poker up.. well, you know the story.. After a few minutes of hard work, the boyfriend and a friend came up and the work stopped again. I was sloshing in the sink, (girl number two's job), when I heard the guy-friend say, "I'm wearing your panties", giggle giggle. The evil one, (that'd be me) whirled around and said, "Hey, stop that kind of talk, you are in public!". Stupid guy number 2 said, "We're not in public". DUH, stupid, you're in a STORE! "This IS public and you stop that kind of talk!" I scolded.
More surprise, the stupid oaf apologized. "We have 20 minutes", I bark, beginning to love this.
The boyfriend and his dumb guy-friend moved off and the wheels of production started again. We got done just before closing time, but there was one more thing that needed to get done, I had mentioned it several times over the course of the long 5 hours I had been forced to put up with this class, but it didn't get done. Both girls headed for the time clock, but I stopped girl # 1 and MADE her go do the undone chore before I would allow her to punch out.
I'm so evil! Nyuk, nyuk, loving it all the way!
So 9th grader number one, the new one, likes to text, giggle, text some more, and then show off her received texts. One was a toilet with a huge tongue in it. EWWWYUK was my response. Well, it that one wasn't good enough for me, she showed me another one. A naked fat guy on all fours, the joke was, "Watch out for Swine Flu". "Ok, put the thing back in your pocket" was my evil response. To my surprise, the phone flashed back in the pocket as though I had a gun to her head. If only...... Nyuk, nyuk!
I put her on a job and dragged her back to it half a dozen times. The deli was really slow, we should have been able to get all the work done an hour early.. Yeah, right.
At 40 minutes before closing I called across the [class] room and said, with great old-person-authority, "WE HAVE 40 MINUTES AND THIS PLACE IS A MESS! LET'S GET DONE HERE!"
Again, to my great surprise, both girls jumped like I had put a hot poker up.. well, you know the story.. After a few minutes of hard work, the boyfriend and a friend came up and the work stopped again. I was sloshing in the sink, (girl number two's job), when I heard the guy-friend say, "I'm wearing your panties", giggle giggle. The evil one, (that'd be me) whirled around and said, "Hey, stop that kind of talk, you are in public!". Stupid guy number 2 said, "We're not in public". DUH, stupid, you're in a STORE! "This IS public and you stop that kind of talk!" I scolded.
More surprise, the stupid oaf apologized. "We have 20 minutes", I bark, beginning to love this.
The boyfriend and his dumb guy-friend moved off and the wheels of production started again. We got done just before closing time, but there was one more thing that needed to get done, I had mentioned it several times over the course of the long 5 hours I had been forced to put up with this class, but it didn't get done. Both girls headed for the time clock, but I stopped girl # 1 and MADE her go do the undone chore before I would allow her to punch out.
I'm so evil! Nyuk, nyuk, loving it all the way!
Friday, August 7, 2009
You've been replaced
Notice that I have a new picture on my blog. This is my beloved Kelita, a mini Pekingese. She was my trucker-buddy, she's seen more of the country, walked more miles in the desert and Rockies than most people have. She died in 2007. I miss her terribly.
The other night I had a dream that my Mother was alive again, (EEEEK)! She was at my sisters house this time, in a hospital bed, and all the sibs were there. In typical Mom-fashion, she was lambasting my youngest sib. My oldest sib scolded her, "If you don't straighten up you're going to a nursing home"! This served to agitate the Mom-figure even more, as she lay on the bed with the only working part of her running a mile a minute, her mouth.
I went to sit on her bed and try to calm her down, and she BIT me. So, (since in dreams you can do anything you want, or don't want...), I bit her back. I bit her cheek so hard I drew blood, which drew immediate regret from my stone-cold heart. The Mom-figure started to cry, "You bit me!", she exclaimed. "No kidding I bit you", I grouched, "and if you bite me again, I'll bite you back!"
Well, the mean ol' thing bit me again, on the wrist. To strangle her here and now or to not, what to do..... I got up off the bed and moved away from her. To every ones great surprise, she got off the bed, no, she JUMPED up, grabbed her cane and started chasing me. I ran into the kitchen to get away from her, only to find she could not only run as fast as I could, she could swing that cane like a samurai sword at me. I grabbed a broom to spar with her, all the while calling for someone, anyone, to come help me. At this point, I would have liked to see her tackled to the ground and hand-cuffed to a two ton concrete post.
As dreams would have it, (why, oh why?), nobody came to my rescue and I woke myself up screaming. When I awoke, my rescue-cat was laying on my chest wondering what all the excitement was. After turning on every available light in the house, I got myself back into reality, told the Mom-figure to go back where she came from and went back to bed.
Since she is there (I hope!) and I am here, I decided to replace her picture. Well, ok, the dog is dead too but the dog never came back and bit me after she died!
Sweet dreams, DD, only sweet dreams are allowed from here on out!!!
The other night I had a dream that my Mother was alive again, (EEEEK)! She was at my sisters house this time, in a hospital bed, and all the sibs were there. In typical Mom-fashion, she was lambasting my youngest sib. My oldest sib scolded her, "If you don't straighten up you're going to a nursing home"! This served to agitate the Mom-figure even more, as she lay on the bed with the only working part of her running a mile a minute, her mouth.
I went to sit on her bed and try to calm her down, and she BIT me. So, (since in dreams you can do anything you want, or don't want...), I bit her back. I bit her cheek so hard I drew blood, which drew immediate regret from my stone-cold heart. The Mom-figure started to cry, "You bit me!", she exclaimed. "No kidding I bit you", I grouched, "and if you bite me again, I'll bite you back!"
Well, the mean ol' thing bit me again, on the wrist. To strangle her here and now or to not, what to do..... I got up off the bed and moved away from her. To every ones great surprise, she got off the bed, no, she JUMPED up, grabbed her cane and started chasing me. I ran into the kitchen to get away from her, only to find she could not only run as fast as I could, she could swing that cane like a samurai sword at me. I grabbed a broom to spar with her, all the while calling for someone, anyone, to come help me. At this point, I would have liked to see her tackled to the ground and hand-cuffed to a two ton concrete post.
As dreams would have it, (why, oh why?), nobody came to my rescue and I woke myself up screaming. When I awoke, my rescue-cat was laying on my chest wondering what all the excitement was. After turning on every available light in the house, I got myself back into reality, told the Mom-figure to go back where she came from and went back to bed.
Since she is there (I hope!) and I am here, I decided to replace her picture. Well, ok, the dog is dead too but the dog never came back and bit me after she died!
Sweet dreams, DD, only sweet dreams are allowed from here on out!!!
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