Last night I dreamed that I had the baby, and they wouldn’t let me take her home because I didn’t have a car seat. I couldn’t find a store that would sell me a car seat. I was running frantically through an endless mall that was closing, and I couldn’t find a single store that would help me. I finally found a department store, but when I went in one all it had were rows upon rows of fur coats, stretching to infinity. I was crying hysterically and begging for help, and people were pointing and laughing at me.
Sleep is not so much restful these days.
Another recurring dream is that I am single and dating again. My dates are never anybody that real life me knows, and in my dreams I know that I have been married but I am no longer. Not sure whether I killed my poor husband off or we split, my dream self doesn’t tell me (or her dates). Anxious about aging, much? Reluctant Grown up indeed.
In other news . . . Halloween was great fun, and I wish I had photos to prove it. I sang my first show with the band (I’m going to risk giving up anonymity here and tell you the name – Puritan Rodeo Show – look them up, they’re on my space). We were in a bar on Franklin Street in Chapel Hill, a place famed for its Halloween revels. This was my first Franklin Street Halloween, and it was neat, but definitely a college scene. Not that this old married pregnant lady did not thoroughly enjoy herself, but I found myself definitely on the other side of the store window, if you will: wrinkling my brow with worry over the young thing dressed as a cheerleader who could barely open her eyes, let alone walk, she was so drunk (god the heels! The heels! Baby, you’ll break your ankle, just sit for a minute dear!); and rolling my old lady eyes at all the young girls “dressed” in a “Halloween costume” that probably came from a Frederick’s of Hollywood catalogue. How quickly I changed from one of those into one of me. It only took me a few broken heart experiences (and one possible skull fracture, you may recall) to learn that long term happiness does not always lie with the man who drools over your exposed flesh. But not everybody was sex-on-a-stick; there were some very cool costumes out there, including my favorite – a guy dressed as a Brawny paper towel roll. He himself was the Brawny man, with the lumberjack outfit (hands on hips, just like on the package!), and he’d made a 6 foot tall paper towel roll out of actual paper towels stapled together. Very clever. There was also an autopsy girl, several dead pregnant brides, Kid Rock, the Publisher’s Clearing House guy (complete with oversized check and balloons), and a guy with long graying hair, heavy eyeliner, and black flowing clothes. I wasn’t totally sure if maybe that was just his day to day wear, though.
We dressed as a zombie band, and despite several dramatic oh-lordy-I-knocked-the-damn-beer-all-over-the-amp moments, we did great. It was lots of fun, and not terribly nerve-wracking, and we have another show tonight. Patrick skipped the Halloween show to pass out candy to the kiddies, but he’s coming tonight. Huzzah, my own groupie.
Happy November, happy weekend, happy 53 shopping days left til Christmas.
wow…no baby seat can be found…i guess that happens sometimes in life…we feel liek no matter what we do we just can\’t get what we need…wonder what is missing in your life to make you dream that one up??
*~* :o) if you don\’t have a smile to give… :o) I will give you one of mine… :o) *~*
I had never read that post before. My goodness! That infuriates me that the hotline responded to you the way they did. They of all people should understand. The doctor acted unprofessionally, too. You could be a great service to a non-profit in your area, if you feel it\’s something important to you. In KC, we had Rose Brooks where my best friend\’s mom worked because she had been abused by his father, her husband at the time. I remember going through training in high school but one can never understand unless they have experienced it herself. That\’s why you would be a great help.