more odd dreams

Yesterday afternoon was one of those rare times when I find myself barely able to get home from work as I need sleep immediately. Perhaps my usual nights of mediocre sleep quality build up over time and result in one of these 12-hour dead rests.

I began with a trip to visit Cincinnati*. I don't think I was invited, because when I arrived he wasn't home. But his mother was there with two other relatives. His mother was wary until I explained why I was there. But she appeared to be sensible and knew of my existence, and suggested I try to talk things out with her son. 

Cincinnati eventually arrived on his bike and although he looked at me warily as well, he didn't ask me to leave. We ended up cleaning his bike and related gear together. We didn't talk about our dead relationship, but he did answer my cycle-related questions. 

(In real life I'm planning to buy a better bike soon, so I can join a local group. Also I understand that Chicago is a cyclist's heaven when weather permits.)

I woke up for a little while, then decided to go back to sleep. And I went back to the house where I'd lived as a teenager.

The dream version of the house looked almost identical to the real-life combined grocery store house, which I found on Google (the name on the sign is that of the proprietor who bought the business from my mother):

We lived behind the store. There was a door in the back of the store that led directly to the house's kitchen - something I always disliked.

Anyway, back to the dream. I noticed someone sitting next to the front door with a guitar, even though the business is deserted. I go closer and realize to my delight that it's Jason Vieaux. (I've seen him in concert; he is an amazing guitarist.)

I decide to introduce myself and that I used to live here, which interests him. I don't ask him what he's doing there. We walk around the place, which appears to be uninhabited.  I notice some cats living underneath. We talk about guitars for a while; I tell him I've just switched over to silk and steel strings (something I did in real life) and he approves. 

After a few minutes of looking in windows and seeing nothing but dust-covered, abandoned furniture, I spot a small version of the old gas oven I grew up with. I ask Jason to help me drag it out, and he's fine with this.

Not much happens after this. Too bad I wasn't able to talk him into a lesson.

* See The Usual Suspects.


Remembrance of cubs past

I was unhappy to miss a local Beltane celebration last weekend because of a sudden attack of food poisoning, and the hours of misery and incapacitation that always accompany these. The sabbats make up about half of my socializing these days, since I am determined to leave Texas for Chicago and have fled all cat rescue-related events. 

I stayed home from work Monday, not because I was still violently ill, but because I was having trouble rehydrating and was feeling awfully beat up. I was clearing old files off my eight-year old Macbook Pro and I came upon one of those hidden folders within another folder. I had carefully saved all my photos of the Cub*.

For new readers, the Cub was the object of my carnal affections for the most part of a year. The sex was some of the best I've ever had, which makes me nostalgic for it at times. But we never discussed our sole threesome afterwards, which made me unhappy as I really wanted to find out what it had been like for him. And then he had no need to visit my neighborhood on business any more. It's been almost exactly one year since I last saw him.

It's too bad I cannot publish a Cub photo here. He had such tantalizing blue eyes, and knowing of my fetish for men in glasses, would go to the trouble of removing his contact lenses when I was en route to visit him. He always wore such lovely shirts and shared my fondness for Ferragamo footwear.

If business brought the Cub back to my neighborhood one day, I wonder if he would want to reconnect. I would like to share at least a drink or two with him, even if things went no further. But so many things in life simply cannot be resurrected.

* See The Usual Suspects.


parts unknown

Something that particularly annoys me these day is that people often ask me how I'm doing, and my only honest answer is "I don't know". Something I do know is that people who have never lost a parent have no idea what it's like, as your emotions are  quite unpredictable afterwards. 

For example, I was beginning to think that I was beginning to recover from my initial grief when I walked into a Barnes and Noble and encountered a hideous pink and white Mother's Day banner. They had it all figured out for us, and I had always bought my mom one of those pricey stand-up cards that look like this.

I didn't stay for long.

Also, I'm still attempting to ready my mother's house to put on the market. Neither brother is helping much. There is a big difference in whether you sell a house that's insurable or not, as you cannot get a mortgage for an uninsurable home (unless renovations are part of the loan, like HomeStyle) . So I decided to attempt to put a new roof on the house, or at least attempt to, as there was a hail storm last month that appears to qualify the neighbors' homes for new roofs.

Although I still plan to leave Texas later this year, the unknown factors are making me more than slightly nervous. Will I ever make new friends? How many cats am I stuck with? What if I really hate my new job/home/city? Considering I never had these fears when I was younger, this makes me feel a bit of a coward.

One factor I'm sure about, however, is that I need to quit pretending I have any sort of relationship with Ian* these days, as I don't. I haven't seen him for almost a year, and he never even calls me. Sometimes I feel that living in his house rent-free is a clever revenge, but ultimately I just want to go away.

Work-wise, I am still waiting to see what the salary raises are. At least I got an amusing update to our lending policies and procedures, regarding loan applicants' assets:

Cryptocurrency such as Bitcoin and Ethereum may not be used for purposes of down payment funds, or funds for closing. 


The luck of the draw

Earlier today I decided to leave my fellow cat ladies alone for a while - we were at yet another adoption event - and stop by one of my favorite weird stores, Dolly Python

I was considering a Gig print of one of the infamous pity kitties made infamous by Margaret Keane and often copied. Nobody has ever been able to figure who Gig was, but he or she painted quote a few abandoned strays with oversized eyes. But then I noticed that a tarot reader had set up shop, and it didn't take me long to go for a reading. It was only $25 and was probably no worse spent than on the Gig print.

The reader was an older woman with purple-rimmed glasses and white hair. She had an odd aura of legitimacy about her. 

After I cut the deck she did the first reading and it was surprisingly accurate. It said that I had recently been released from an obligation (the card actually showed a prisoner), and that some major changes I'd been planning would kick in earlier than I had planned. She even identified a blonde who was not to be trusted; and I had seen this person (she works with me) at the pet store not an hour earlier. 

I explained what had happened recently, especially my mother's death and my decision to leave Texas. She suggested I write things down to see them more clearly. 

Of course, I then asked if she could tell me about the relationship with Cincinnati*. Did it have any chance of a revival?  She dealt more cards and I couldn't help but laugh. I am unfamiliar with tarot but I knew what an upside-down Lovers card meant. Other cards suggested that our relationship had crashed and burned because  Cincinnati was immature and we had both approached our relationship in an immature, unrealistic fashion. Which I can't argue. We didn't have a relationship really; but I had wanted so badly to kick it into second gear last November as I couldn't forget our single dinner and kiss in late 2013.

She then asked if I'd like to see if we could determine a future relationship with more realism. By this time, I needed no encouragement.

She promptly shocked me by turning up James* - or in her words, someone "involved in education". But we had no chance of a relationship until the fall. Considering his wife's worsening health, and her declaration that he was currently going through a nightmarish phase, I couldn't help but wonder - especially since I'd had a dreadful nightmare about him only two nights earlier.

* See Key to Characters at right.




All trucked up

Although I was tempted to buy another BMW Z3 - especially as I found one with low miles and a hardtop - I ended up with another Nissan Frontier. I decided I wanted a used one with low mileage and a manual transmission. Shopping was quite painless, as I was sneaky and played the used car sales game to my advantage.

  1. I waited until the last day of the month, when sales folk are sweating if they haven't made their quotas.
  2. I acted as if I didn't really need the truck, which was halfway true as I won't be clearing out my mother's house for another month or two.
  3. I didn't admit that finding a manual transmission truck had been really difficult. I only located two within reasonable driving distance.

The upshot of my nonchalance is that, after the salesman couldn't offer me a monthly payment I liked and I was headed to the door, he ran for the sales manager. He promptly removed the down payment requirement and lowered the price by around $2,000 until the monthly payments were more to my taste. Only then did I bite.

I'm quite enjoying the truck, although my Z3 is having a well-deserved sabbatical.  And the dealership still made money as I have a  pretty good idea of how little the previous owner received for the truck.