That old chestnut

I dreamed last night that my mother cut my hair into a sassy style that I love, love, loved. It was short, but not too short, all tousled and cute.

In reality, the last time my mother cut my hair, I sat pouting on a stack of Sears, JCPenney and Montgomery Wards catalogs. She used a piece of Scotch tape and her sewing scissors to trim my bangs and even with those fancy precautions, my poker-straight hair went cattywampus. The tyranny of cowlicks cannot be denied.

More surprisingly, my hair color had reverted to its original chestnut.

Something shifted. The mood changed. My hair morphed into a mullet.

My mother disappeared. I stood in front of a mirror and glared at my reflection. Why did I let her talk me into cutting off my long, silver hair? It had taken me so long to grow it out, longer than it had ever been. Now it was gone. Snip, snip. Back to the beginning, Lisa Carole.

I woke up. My hand went immediately to my head. Still long.

I never know from what psychic crevasse my dreams pull themselves. What little thing or big thing or pattern of things stoked the engine of that train of thought? Was it the conversation I had with myself last week about the career choices I'd made? The fact that Chloe and I have been talking about what she's going to do after graduation? Could it be my involvement with the Silver Panthers, a mildly-militant group of anti-hair-color activists at the office? We do like to talk about how we liberated ourselves from the shackles of Clairol and told L'Oreal no más, merci.

Symbolism isn't my strength. I could guess what it meant. Rely on some half-formed assumptions I have about myself and my mother. Only half-formed because it's safer not to look directly into the sun.

A dump truck filled with what ifs backed up next to the bed and someone pulled a lever.

I drifted into a dreamless sleep covered up in issues like an old, worn security blanket.

MathMan didn't even stir.

Dream interpreter or dreamer? You're up.

Drowning Here in Summer's Cauldron

And it's not even Summer yet. Officially.....

So I went for my Mother's Day massage on Friday. It was so relaxing that I fell asleep. With snoring.

Delicate flower, that's me.

Anyway, that delightful relaxed state of being set the tone for the whole weekend. Since then, I:

(1) Consumed my weight in mini devil's food cupcakes with cream cheese frosting (a relaxed attitude toward food if ever there was one);
(2) Ate a scrumptious lunch of chunky chicken salad at the Village Porch Cafe with the The Dancer and Garbo (Garbo had ice cream because that's how she rolls, apparently, and her mama was in an indulgent mood);
(3) Bought a stack of used books at the Friends of the Library book sale, including One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez which I purchased not so much because I was itching to finally read this book (books about Central and South America always make me crave Mexican and South American food - what is that all about?), but because it had a letter stuck in between the pages. I'd have felt like a rat if I'd just swiped the letter and not bought the book for less than a quarter. Now I feel like I have to read the book which will result in all kinds of cravings like guacamole, arroz con pollo and lots and lots of tortilla chips. Great.
(4) Cruised the local shops and purchased my first typically female Vera Bradley doo-dad to control the contents of my abyss of a purse while the female Royal Pains danced around me singing songs of wonder and praise that I'd finally seen the righteousness of purchasing over-priced quilted accessessories. Look, if the dang thing keeps me from cursing as I root through my hemp, low-slung hippy bag, it was worth the sixteen dollars on sale;
(5) Went to a car show with the family, and...when not in a short-burst cleaning frenzy with appropriate music, and
(6) Pretty much sat on my behind and read this book.


Which I'm loving so much that I want to finish it already and see how it ends.

And I admit it. The short burst "cleaning" frenzy included ten minutes of hot make up sex with the neglected vacuum cleaner and wiping away bathroom dust with a washcloth I'd just finished using on my face. You know, hygienic to the max!

The car show was fun except The Royal Pains get kind of twitchy after a while. Maybe it was the exhaust fumes from the muscle car guys revving their engines or the live music or all those people! walking around, but after about twenty minutes, two of The Royal Pains started making sounds about wanting to "do something." "Do something is code for electronic activity. Them apples didn't fall far from the tree.

But see, I'm really trying to unplug, stay unplugged and like being unplugged. I realized a few weeks back that I had gotten so addicted to being online that I wasn't enjoying the "real" life I had happening all around me. Mind you, there's plenty to want to escape from on any given day, but the point is - I needed to find some balance. And in doing so, I hope that I can set a better example for The Royal Pains.

As for Saturday evening, MathMan and I endured the intermittent griping and grousing as long as we could, then headed home. The Royal Pains didn't seem to mind riding in the trunk where we didn't have to hear them. At least they preferred that to their other option - walk home the 15 or so miles. In the dark.

So that's why you might not be seeing me among the internets like you're used to seeing me. Why, just this morning, MathMan and I got out into the fresh air and took advantage of the morning light to take photos. We headed out Chulio Road, not far from our house, toward Rome, Georgia and stopped in this little old farming community to take some photos. Since moving to Georgia, I've gained whole new appreciation for abandoned buildings. Where city structures are often torn down to make room for new development, old structures in rural areas are most often left standing, becoming part of the landscape. I like that because you have history standing there before you. Anyway, meet my new obsession.....


This stone structure looks like it was once a home and commercial establishment. Or two. I'm anxious to do some research and find out what it was. It's got all these funky stone structures including a well, benches, an armchair, planters shaped like baskets, a moat (I'm not kidding), footbridges and a patio with built-in benches.

This place now tops the list of things I must own when I win the lottery.

I could cut out a lot of research time and just call the people who are trying to sell it, I suppose, but then I'll be all awkward because there's no way we could dream of buying the place and how goofy would it be to phone them up, ask a bunch of questions about the place and then be all "Well, thanks so much, gotta go?"

Of course, considering how unique the place is, that probably wouldn't be the first or last time they get that call.......I wonder if they'd hold it for me until we win the MegaMillions.....?

As we drove home from our photo-taking frenzy - which is much more fun than a cleaning frenzy - I mentioned to MathMan that the stone structure would make a great setting for a story......

Anyway, my apologies for being a lousy blogfriend and not being the loyal reader I once was. I'll be back to it when the beautiful weather and interesting books aren't tugging at me so.

Until then........