This and that

I love the things Joseph comes up with to say. Yesterday, we were walking to the royal mail for a package when Joseph saw two schoolgirls aged about 11 walking ahead of us. He dashed off around them, doing some cool jumps and whatnot. When I catch up with him, he takes me aside and says, ‘You know why I unzipped my vest a bit? I wanted those girls to see my Doctor Who shirt and be attracted by my coolness. It’s my attraction situation!’ He goes on to say, ‘I’m careful to attract only young girls. If I attract old girls, they might be dead when I’m 42!’ and laughs as though that’s the most preposterous notion ever conceived. Later as we’re walking home, he notes with some dissatisfaction that men drivers hardly ever stop for children to cross the road. His theory–‘Women are more intelligent, and men are impulsive, impulsive!’ We discussed some of the cultural and biological explanations as to why that might be, and he liked the idea that men pick fights because they’re bored at no longer being allowed to fight over women and having to hunt for their dinner at Tesco.

It occurs to me that I have an ongoing problem with shifting tense in my writing. I apologize to the discerning reader for being too much of a lazy-ass to address the issue.

Mom has arrived, and she came bearing treasure. Ima be so fat; she brought hershey bars, reeses pieces, nibs, double-stuf oreos, a big-ass tub of cocoa mix with the wee marshmallows, a jar of marshmallow cream, cheddar sun chips…. She also brought red hots so I can make proper christmas cookies and my huge cake pans. Whee! Joseph is jacked because she brought all my old Doctor Who novels.

I didn’t have very restful sleep last night, as I was having epic nightmares. One involved being in an internment camp of some kind in which a group of us were being starved to death, and to speed things up, they had us up shuffling around and had us lay down for 10 seconds every few hours. Eventually I escaped. To be honest, I was impressed with my fortitude. The strange bit was when it was all over, walking by the camp inadvertently, which was in the middle of a busy old-world town, and it looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had ever happened there. I even ran across the women who ran the place, and she looked like any other busy person trying to get from here to there. Then I recall something about the emotions of the victims being taken advantage of in order to make tv commercials for household products. Hmm. I had another dream in which I was looking at pictures and paintings of Elvis. For some reason the dumpy, pasty old Elvis became black mesh-wearing gay Elvis in my dreams. In another dream, homeschooling friend K was screaming at her kids (which in reality is not at all her style, let me reassure you) and I was trying to get my kids in her van and grab some last-minute things from the flat, which now for some reason was in Edinburgh a few blocks away from James’ work, when I realized I had both his phone and his keys and was trying to figure out how to deal with this and not be late to wherever it was we were going. Finally I just jumped in the van because I didn’t want to piss K off by asking her to run by James’ office, and we set off along a strange road that paralleled the train line, which she gleefully explained had been a favorite of hers since childhood.. Those are the ones I can recall enough to type out. With dreams like mine, who needs a life. 😛


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