The Purge Continues...

Every night...some weird/needed/sometimes disturbing/sometimes disheartening/sometimes healing/most of the time confusing dream about men from my past...I'm tired of it. I don't need to have questions raised about my past every, single morning when I wake up. I don't need confusion, and I don't want to wonder how people are. When I wake up, I instantly think, "Really? I'm STILL dealing with this issue on some level? He still has that effect on my subconscious? That's really dumb." Then, I just sort of let it go, scrunch closer to my sleeping husband and thank the Lord that I chose him and he chose me.

The dreams are really starting to get on my last nerve. Of course, everything is getting on my nerves these days. (I'll expand on that, shortly.)

The only really good dream I've had, lately, was one involving Ewan McGregor and a llama. He told me that he wanted me to go to the Oscars with him. I agreed. The "catch" was that I had to make sure his llama stayed in the basement bedroom of my childhood home while he did his press junkets. You'd think you could just close the door to my childhood bedroom, and the damn llama would stay in there, right? No. This was a smart llama. It kept escaping, and I had to keep reminding myself that it would all be worth it when I was walking down the red carpet at the Academy Awards with Ewan McGregor. I won, though. I actually convinced the llama to stay in there using some sort of telepathic awareness between the two of us. When I awoke, I analyzed my dream with the help of a dream dictionary website. I believe everything it says without question. I have no idea why.

Llamas apparently represent strength, endurance and trust. So, seeing that I'm about to go through something (birth) that needs all of those things, I realized that if I could just keep "corralling in" those three attributes, the frustration would all be worth it, and I would get to parade around with a special boy...my son...not Ewan McGregor. :)

Anyhoo...back to being annoyed with things that aren't usually annoying:

The other day I made a trip to Stillwater to eat lunch with my mom. I was feeling a bit "stir crazy" in my home. Even though Grey could come at any moment, I made the drive because I was dying of boredom. At lunch, I filled up my cup with ice and water and started to look for a lid. A woman came up next to me to get some ice.

"Oh, I loooove this ice!" she said with enthusiasm.
(I ignored her.)
"This is that pellet ice. It's my absolute favorite ice!"
(Continuing to ignore her.)
"It's so good," she repeated.

You would think after 3 comments about the ice, I would say something, anything, like, "Yeah. Good ice," or even, "Uh-huh," wouldn't you? I did not do this. I stared straight ahead while I put the lid on my cup and quietly thought to myself, "Good for you and your f**king ice." She walked away. Maybe she thought I was deaf. I really don't care.

At any other moment in my life, this would be a completely irrational response to someone's love of pellet ice. I love pellet ice, too, and I'm always happy when it's available. But, no...it was too much to deal with at this point.

My focus is solely on getting though the process of pushing something out of me that is probably around 7-8 pounds and has wide parts that are going to make it feel like my body is being ripped into two with no drugs, whatsoever. Have you seen my husband's shoulders? This is going to require my utmost concentration.

So, you can see why I don't care about your ice preference. At all.

In other news, Beau dreamt that we were friends with Toby Keith, and that we convinced him that our liberal views did not make us horrible people. Toby Keith then decided that we were good people, even though we believe that everyone should be able to get married, wars are dumb, and he's a shitface.

As he relayed the dream to me while I made coffee this morning, I felt as if Beau had awoken with a sense that Toby Keith "wasn't such a bad guy," much like when, in 7th grade, I had a dream that Axl Rose and Slash from Guns N' Roses were my long, lost cousins that lived in the back yard in a caboose. They were really nice to me. I never looked at them the same after that dream. I really hope that Beau doesn't start listening to Toby Keith now. I mean...he has a golf course that's called "I Love This Golf Course" much like "I Love This Bar and Grill." They serve Freedom Fries there. Beau might have even called him "TK" while describing the dream.

I started to get a really anxious feeling about the whole thing, so I looked it up on the same dream dictionary site. When you look up "Toby Keith," a big picture of an ass shows up, and the words "Nightmare! Nightmare!" start flashing on your screen. Then the "How Do You Like Me Now?" song comes on, and an American flag starts climbing out of your computer to strangle you. Lastly, you're seared with an OU brand on your forehead, your IQ drops 78 points, and your ability to use proper English is replaced by phrases such as "Git me some" and "Git 'er done.

And, that's all I have to say about that...

The Fat Lady...

My favorite author of all time died.

"But I'll tell you a terrible secret - Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know - listen to me, now - don't you know who that Fat Lady really is?...Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy."

-Zooey

p.s. I'm still pregnant. Guess I'm still the Fat Lady, too. We all are.

Last night I had a dream that I went to a Pentecostal-type-revival church, and when I walked in the door everyone was so happy and relieved to see that I had finally come "home." There were many girls from my high school graduating class welcoming me "back home."

When I woke up, I quickly disregarded the dream as some sort of last-month-of-pregnancy-boredom-hell-vision.

Did I mention that I'm bored out of my freaking mind? I suppose this is what happens when you get everything ready for the birth of your child 3 months in advance.

Here are some things that I have done out of pure boredom:

• Woke up one morning and thought, "My husband could really use a new 40" flat screen TV for an anniversary present. I'll go buy him one today. (I don't shop...so, this was a new thing for me.)
  
• After being completely disappointed in every single address book at Barnes and Noble, I came home and made one for myself.
  
• I saw two movies (in the theater) within 3 days. If you know me, then you know that I don't even like going to the movies. I get distracted easily, and I don't like being confined to one seat for 2 hours. Staring at George Clooney and Alec Baldwin was fun, though. (Up In The Air, It's Complicated.) I also enjoyed trying to burn all of Meryl Streep's outfits into my mind so that I can look exactly like her in 29 years.
  
• I watched every single episode of 30 Rock in about a week's time.
• I renovated the downstairs bathroom with the help of Beaubi-Wan. That was interesting.

But, now I'm really tired. All the time. And, no one calls me. Ever. And it's 15 degrees outside with snow STILL on the ground. And this baby still has a couple weeks to go. And I don't want to go anywhere, yet, I don't want to sit here all day.

This morning at 7:00a.m., I got up to make the coffee. I got this great idea for a bitter Valentine's card, so I sat down and wrote it all out and designed it.

On the outside it reads:

"The good thing about having your heart broken is that you get to put it back together exactly as you like...instead of keeping each piece locked away in a simple pattern just as he preferred, hoping one day he wouldn't notice that it was longing to explode on its own from bad design and neglect."

On the inside it says:

"Another cool part is that in a couple of months, if you find that a piece is still missing, it's probably behind the couch, dusty and EXTRA SHARP, and you can throw it at him if you see him on the street."

I guess I still have some anger management issues. Just kidding. I've actually dealt with most of it, thanks to a series of dreams I've been having that I like to call: "Really?!? EVERY single man from my past is making an appearance this week?"

As you may have guessed, every single man of any importance from my past has been making multiple cameos in all dreams for about a month now. I have heard of this phenomenon, actually. My cousin said the exact same thing happened to her right before she gave birth. She said that she thought it was a "purging" of sorts.

A favorite episode from last week comes to mind. I just have to share it. I will not even reference who the male was in the dream.

So...this man...in the dream...was slightly overweight, drunk and taking a dump in front of me. It was really quite charming. He then proceeded to tell me (or try to tell me while slurring) that I was using his family for baby presents. It was really neat. After taking his shit, he got up and stumbled away. When I awoke, I laughed. It was ridiculous. But, I'm glad he finally got to tell me his true feelings about the situation. ;)

You know who I NEVER dream about? Beau. Guess I don't need to "purge" him.

In other news, Gus is becoming increasingly needy. Wonderful. An already needy dog is now sensing that I'm going to be taking care of ANOTHER needy baby boy. Also, Beau ate a handful of Cheerios the other day. One of the Cheerios went down his shirt sleeve. When he went upstairs, the Cheerio went on the hardwood floor of our bedroom. After an entire day of seeing the Cheerio on the ground I said, "Do you know where that Cheerio came from?" He said, "It was in my shirt sleeve." I said, "So, were you going to pick the Cheerio up?" He responded, "I figured Gus would eat it at some point, but I don't think he's seen it, yet."

Soon, I will have two boys dropping Cheerios everywhere and refusing to pick them up...and, I couldn't be happier. I'm just ready for it to happen already before I perform a C-section on myself.

Thank you. Good day.

Wow.

Last night I spent 17 minutes trying to find the perfect place to put two pacifiers (with accompanying pacifier clips) in my almost-born, baby boy's nursery (in which he won't even be sleeping).

I also spent about 49 minutes folding and unfolding different "onesies" according to size and warmth level and then placing them in various piles, only to move the pile once I found a better place to put the pile.

I categorized baby soap into two sections:

1. Baby soap to be used at first presence of baby.
2. Baby soap to be used at a later time.

I stacked diapers into disposable and cloth drawers with corresponding disposable and cloth wipes. (Disposable for newborn if he can't fit into the cloth, yet.)

I coordinated all breastfeeding/pumping supplies into one, large drawer...with corresponding instructions that slightly freak me out. I tested out the manual pump because I didn't believe that it would have enough suction after I placed my hand on it. Note: placing a breast pump on your hand and pumping it is totally incomparable to placing it on your breast. I will not be "testing" its strength again until Grey arrives.

I researched pre-washing BumGenius 3.0 cloth diapers for 36 minutes. I analyzed each new instruction for about 7 minutes each.

This is how I spent last night.

I obviously have nothing interesting to say at the present time.

I want a cigarette and a glass of red wine.

I'm going to have both directly after giving birth to my child.

Hell, I may have them both right before...during?

I can't decide.

Things I Will Try to Not Do Ever

1. I have decided that I am going to try to not do team-building exercises ever again. Seeing as I have no job or connection to the world outside of my own brain, this should not be hard to accomplish. You never know, though. I could volunteer for something, and they could have some sort of get-to-know-each-other-type-game, and then I'll need to quietly excuse myself from the situation.

*side note: I will also try to not do any sort of group project. I never like those. In school, I would just end up completely frustrated with everyone else's lack of perfectionism and just do it all myself, all the while lamenting on how no one would help me do the project. I don't like working with groups of 3 or more people. They don't know how to do it right. I do.

2. I have decided that I will try to not run. Running is strange. When I see someone running down the road I think, "That person is running, and there isn't even a bear chasing them!" I am actually quite sure that you're not supposed to run from a bear, but who wouldn't? That is everyone's first instinct. Large, brown, furry mammal with claws and teeth that's roaring. RUN! And, yet, even in that situation...you're supposed to curl in a ball and act like you're dead. See? God wants us to stay still in all situations. That's how we preserve life. Whatever the guy's name is that ran from wherever to Marathon back in the day (3 years of Latin and no recollection of his name) DIED when he got there. Now people run the same distance and say, "I'm going to run that same amount of miles and NOT die!" Some make it. Sadly, some do not listen to God who, as previously stated, does not want us to run...and they die.

3. I am going to not have a cup of hot tea again. No matter how many times I try to enjoy a hot cup of tea, I'm let down. Every time. I realize that entire nations plan their daily schedule around this particular beverage, but I just can't get into it. It bores me. I imagine that conversation trails along the same line of whatever drink you're consuming. As in:

Beer Conversation:

"Man, I could really go for a bratwurst right now. And, I really like girls with big boobs."
"Yeah, man, me too."

(Granted, that may not seem interesting to most people, but hot dogs and boobs are pretty entertaining subjects of conversation and can lead to other even MORE entertaining conversations.)

(Red) Wine Conversation:

"The earth seemed a bit off-kilter yesterday, don't you think?"
"Yes, yes I do. A bit...askew, one might say?"
"Do you think this has to do with a revolution in the bowels of society?"
"I do. Cigarette?"
"Why, yes. Don' t mind if I do."
"Let's go see the Renoir exhibit tomorrow."
"Brunch first, of course!"
"But, of course. As if we would dream of viewing a master's work without enjoying brunch first!"

(I have no idea what I just wrote. That is just what some might say while having a glass of Pinot. Of course, I haven't had an effing glass of wine in 5 months, so my memory may be slightly off.)

Coffee Conversation:

"Dude, Kerouac is an effing genius."
"Are you kidding, man? Salinger. Salinger's where it's at. And, he's like...a recluse."
"Let's go try to find him. I heard he lives in Connecticut. Dude, we'd be legends in our own time. The only two dudes to ever drive up to Connecticut and meet J.D. Salinger."
"It'd be like On the Road."
"Man, that's Kerouac. Get off of Kerouac."
"Alright. We're doing it. We're driving to Connecticut to find Salinger."

(Bell rings. Announcements come on: "Will all Seniors with last names starting with "A" through "L" please report to the Student Center for Chess Club pictures."

"Damn it. Man, this school just continues to bring us down."
"I know, dude. It's all a game that's perpetuated by the rules of ancient man."
"You mean, THE man."
"Yeah, man. THE man."

(I'm pretty sure I had this actual conversation in high school. Change "Chess Club" to "Madrigal" and I'm right there in the middle of it.)

Tea Conversation:

"Would you like some tea?"
"Sure."

(That's all. They are so overwhelmed by the boredom of what they're consuming that they have nothing else to say, and life ceases to make sense, therefore plummeting them into a sea of sips and doldrums.)

**I've only thought of these three things that I'm not going to do ever again. When I think of another, I'll be sure to let everyone know. Cut my own hair? Probably will. Give up a part of myself for someone else? Yeah, that will most likely happen again at some point. Use newspaper to wrap presents with because I'm too lazy to buy the real wrapping paper and try to pass it off as fun, creative and good for the environment? Sure.

But, by gosh, I'll be damned if I ever do a team-building exercise, run or drink a cup of hot tea ever again! MARK MY WORDS!

Gray Hair, Marching and Stupid People

A couple days ago, while shopping in the baby section at Marshall's (which might just be my new fave discount store), I noticed an idiot woman. She had a child. He was 2. He wanted to play with baby toys. She told him that they were "not for big boys" but for "babies." He still wanted to play with them and was fascinated by whatever little colors and sounds were coming out of the damn toy. She scolded him again. Then, he walked through the clothes racks, and clothes came tumbling to the ground. She got really mad, then. She had promised him a "big boy" Spiderman toy and promptly told him that he wasn't getting it anymore as she picked up the clothes. I couldn't handle any more of this situation, so I moved onto looking at wallets. When I had progressed to shoes, I saw, or rather, heard the mother and child exiting the store rather quickly. The little boy was screaming and crying, "But I am a good boy, Mama! I am!" She was dragging him out of the store.

1. If you would've let your BABY son just play with the BABY toys that he was TOTALLY immersed in, this never would've happened. The BABY (he's 2, remember?) was stimulated by whatever the hell was going on with the toys. You drug him away, he got bored looking at the stupid Spiderman toy that you picked out, and decided to crawl under the clothes. I still want to hide in the clothes, lady. What did you expect?

2. Your brain is where creativity goes to die.

3. I don't like you. At all. No one thinks, "Oh, god...that poor woman and what she has to deal with." NO ONE THINKS THAT.

Onto bigger and brighter, rainbow-y type things:

I spent last weekend in Washington, D.C., visiting my sister (yay!) and attending the National Equality March (yay!)...actually, I should say something like (fabulous!). I have to say, after much speculation that there would be low attendance, that is wasn't the right "time" to have a National March, that it was a waste of time and money that could be spent in Maine, etc., from some members of the LGBT community....it was a total success. There were tens of thousands of people in attendance. Young, old, black, white, gay, straight...it was pretty f-ing amazing. At one point my sister and I stopped to have snacks in front of the White House. We had been standing for hours, waiting for the march to start, and I was tired and hungry. As I munched on cheese and crackers, staring at the White House, knowing the President was inside (he really was...he walked to church that morning with his family), and seeing this amazing number of people who felt and thought like me, I realized something:

"Oh, this must be what it's like to live in a blue state." Actually, I didn't think that. I thought, "Is this what church is like for normal people? This feeling of connectedness?" Then I got distracted because chocolate chip cookies were waiting patiently in line at the entrance of my mouth. Needless to say (which I think is a dumb term...if it's needless to say, then why am I saying it?) it was a pretty wonderful experience...not to mention that rainbow flags are beautiful and make me happy. Oh, one more thing: "Hey! Obama! Let mama marry mama!" is the best march chant EVER.

But, seriously, Obama. Let's put some action to those words, mmkay? Greeeaaaat.

Quick list of stuff that I need to get off my chest:

1. Balloon boy, you so crazy!

2. Northwest/Delta...two hours on the tarmac? Really? REALLY?!?!

3. Everyone is extra nice to a crying, pregnant girl...even airport security. If you want to have the best flight experience of your life, full of upgrades, extra snacks and freely offered-up seats from other passengers...get pregnant.

4. I highly recommend taking those open-air, double decker bus tours. I am past the point of caring if people on the ground think they are touristy or cheesy. They are. They are also extremely fun and informative. Just make sure you get on the right bus at the beginning so that you don't have to sneak off of it and get onto the actual bus line from which you bought your ticket. :)

5. Our nation's capital is absolutely breathtaking. I had forgotten how beautiful it is. It reminds me of why I was so obsessed with Presidents in 3rd grade. Seriously. Go visit. So beautiful.

6. I am currently working on 3 craft projects: a painting, knitting a baby blanket, and a cross-stitch. I have also decided that I'd like to be one of those women that makes little loaves of pumpkin bread and hands them out to people around the holidays.

I used to drink heavily, do drugs, smoke cigarettes and sing and travel in a band.
Last night I spent 1 hour and 43 minutes looking up the best recipe for zucchini bread..."3 eggs or 4? No, no...this recipe won't do!"

7. I recently discovered that I am not the only one in my family that likes to do algebraic equations for fun. Thanks for fessing up, Abbey! Smart blondes...gotta love 'em.

8. Speaking of blondes: I can no longer sit and watch my hair look ridiculous. I tried to see what my natural color was, I really, really did. It's a stupid color, I've decided. It's a stupid, brownish ashy gray color. Well, it's "riddled" with gray. As in, 50% gray. I'm not kidding. My mom didn't believe me until she looked at the top of my head while standing above me. Her exact words were, "WOW! You really DO have a lot of gray hair!" Thanks, Mom. I've been telling you this for years. So, now I must go get my hair did somewhere. I made an appointment at a random place. I'm going to pretend like the fumes of hair color are really good for my unborn child. Then, as the color penetrates my scalp, I'll just think, "It's like special vitamins. It's like special vitamins," over and over and then my thoughts will become things (just like the Secret!) and everything will be fine. I just don't want to get to that "skank" point with my roots. Right now I'm at "pretty cool-ish-like-when-Madonna-does-that-show-her-roots-thing," but I'm teetering on the edge of roots disaster.

9. All I wanted to eat in DC was a half-smoke from Ben's Chili Bowl. This was going to be a fairly easy task since my sister lives 2 blocks away from Ben's. Then Ben dies on Thursday. I get there on Friday. Line out the door for days...you get the picture. No half-smoke for me. Nobody cares if you're pregnant at Ben's. It's every man for themself.

10. As I was boarding my flight in Memphis, I was revelling in the fact that I had just been surrounded by wonderful, supportive, liberal people. I really was. I was just sitting there, smiling. Then I get a text from Beau. It reads: "There are anti-gay protesters at the PAC tonight with signs that say, "Die f*gs!" and "God hates you!" Good ol' Oklahoma!"

He was going to see David Sedaris, so we thought they were there for that. Turns out they were there to protest the 10-year anniversary of "The Laramie Project." Even better! You know...Matthew Shepherd. A young man gets tied up and strewn upon a fence and battered and tortured for his beliefs (sound familiar in ANY way, Christians?), and then they kill him. Exactly what can you protest about that? Pretty Christ-like of you, protesters. Pretty FUCKING Christ-like. Sar.cas.m.

Boy, was I glad to be back!

11. Tom Coburn has serious mental problems.

12. I want the entire Sedaris family to please come over for drinks.

13. The leaves are turning. Stare at one for a while. A long while. One turning leaf can change a lot of things.

Braggin'...

Just to let you know...

My husband has some pretty hilarious things to talk/write about on his blog:

http://beauadams.blogspot.com

Chiggity-check it out if you have time! Pretty damn funny.