Dream a little dream of Chief?

I had some very strange dreams this past week. But first, here’s background, some of which you no doubt already know:

• I suffer from depression and mild social anxiety, for which I take meds. Yay meds!
• I had three holiday parties to go to last weekend, which is a pretty big deal for someone with social anxiety, even if they are on meds.
• Vitamin N’s lovely big eight-year-old border collie Chief died this week, from some type of aggressive doggie cancer. He was feeling ill on Saturday and they took him to the vet on Sunday, and surgery was scheduled for Monday (for his spleen which had burst) but he never made it to Monday morning. I loved that dog too, and he loved me. Boo doggie cancer!
• Her eldest son (whose dog it really was) decided to have Chief cremated. Yuck cremation!
• The crematorium does their service by the pound. Chief was 93 pounds. Wow bigdog!
• I am of the soft and cuddly body type, myself. Some would call me thick, some would call me fat, but I just call me pretty cute. Sexy, sometimes even! *winkwink*

Okay. Now for the dreams.

After the parties this past weekend, I had to attend three more parties. Then, three more parties. Three MORE parties after that. The parties were blending into each other. Were they different parties, or one gigantic never-ending, anxiety-inducing “party”? Suddenly, I was a veterinarian in an operating room. I couldn’t see my hands but they knew what they were doing. But it was super duper hot in my white scrubs and I could see worried people peering in the little window in the door. Then I turned into the pet! I was big, not like a cat, but maybe a cat. Or maybe a dog. Maybe a big, furry collie. I had long hair like Chief. I was in a metal cage and my thoughts were all muddled. I was really hot and breathing slowly, but not in any pain or anything. Then suddenly I was human and THREE MORE PARTIES!!! THEN THREE MORE PARTIES. THREE MORE THREE MORE THREE MORE… etc. etc. until I awoke. At 8:15. I’m supposed to be in the office at 8:00. That was Monday morning and quite a shitty day.

Monday night I dreamt I was going to be cremated and I was ashamed and felt guilty because I was going to cost so much. I may have been a pet or human. I just felt really big and I seemed to take up a lot of room. If I reached out my arms and legs a little I could touch the sides, but I didn’t want to for some reason. I was sooooo hot suddenly! I was in the oven!!! I woke up sweating unbelievably with Butch and Twinkie totally snuggled up around my top half, purring contentedly.

Tuesday and Wednesday nights, nothing. Alevai! (sp?)

Thursday night. Some worry dreams about money and the heat getting turned off. But I still had electricity so that was ok. I reasoned that I could just plug in the electric heater and make tea from the electric kettle.

Anyway, sheesh, right? All hot and cold and anxious and pets and money. You know what I miss? Sex dreams. Damn meds...

I love ornaments

I mean, really love them!  Especially the glittery, colorful, festive ones.  So jingly and jangly, sparkly and spangly, like gigantic exotic earrings from the Far East.  And I'm not the only person in my family who likes them.  My mom does, too.  I really like the ones that look like ice.  Some of the loveliest ornaments I have ever seen were fancy, long, hand-twisted, delicate, clear glass icicles that we bought for my grandparents’ tree one year as part of a house present.  I loved those icicles.  I wonder whatever happened to them.

Anyway, each year I try to put up at least a few ornaments on someone’s Christmas tree, or help them decorate.  This year I was quite pleased to have two separate opportunities - at both houses, indoor AND outdoor!  (Although I am totally uninterested in decorating the tree at work.  I am utterly unentranced with that tree.)  This is why I loved decorating the sukkah so much.  The wackier the better!  *smile* I just plain love ornaments.

But since I'm Jewish, it feels, well, wrong to hang ornaments in my home.  Don’t get me wrong - I decorate for Chanukah... with chanukiot, with dreidels, with kachol v’lavan (blue and white, for my readers unfamiliar with transliterated Hebrew), with boxes, with signs and with wonders (heh).

So.  What’s your take on the Chanukah bush?  Or maybe I should get a side job decorating trees for people who actually pay money to have someone else set theirs up.

I have lots of ideas for decorating.  Picture this: all green lights in a green tree with glittery golden balls of differing sizes.  Or all white lights in a green tree with shiny red and purple ornaments.  What about a white tree with colored lights and matching ornaments in tiers, rainbow-like?  Or a tree with all one color ornaments, but different shades of color?  Changing from either the top down, or interspersed.  Or, no lights at all!  Instead, vertical stripes of color!  Or all paper ornaments!  Or all clear glass!  Or!  Or!  Or...

Fashion strata

Tonight I cleaned my bedroom.  Well, actually, I cleared -- changed my sheets and remade the bed with an actual duvet and cover; cleared off the nightstand; returned items to the closet; and especially cleared off my dresser from its months of accumulated and laundered-but-not-put-away clothing.  The pile was was about four feet high.  Why?  I've been dressing out of the dryer.

I'm not ashamed of this, and I'm certainly not Foul Bachelorette Frog (though messy, my apartment is rarely truly dirty, and my body is always clean.)  But I do seem to have become a much less snappy dresser than when I first moved to Massachusetts.  What the heck happened?  But never mind that for now.

You know, dear Reader, It's fascinating to see what was stylish several seasons ago.  It's like geology.  Picking away at the earth's core.  Garment gravity.  Fashion sediment.  I realized it this morning when shifting occurred and re-orientation of the clothing strata took place due to tectonic forces as I joyfully attempted to free a certain pair of underwear from deep within the pile.  The original horizontality let go, and... AVALANCHE!!!  Butchie was nearly buried alive.

So I took action.  And I have been trying to get to it for weeks... ok, months.  But there's always something much more fun to do!  Can you blame me for putting this job off?  I can't.

There's still more to be done, but seeing the top of the dresser is a good start.  More cleaning tomorrow.  Ta!