Spring, Goals and Procastination

These lovely flowers remind me know that spring will come. And with spring, comes new life. A little late in the new year to be setting goals, but I am the Queen of Procastination.

Here are my goals. I know there's power in writing them down but I've always hesitated to do that for fear that someone would remind me if I don't accomplish said goals.

I'm pretty sure that that, my friends, is exactly the point so here goes...

1. Finish novel that I started with Nanowrimo. My characters are just hanging out, wondering where I've been. I'll be back. I've been thinking about them quite a bit.

2. Refinance house.

3. Repair house with above mentioned refinancing loot.

4. Lost 20 lbs. and get FINE.

5. MOVE...physically, which ties into number 4.

6. By the end of the year, be very, very, close to opening greatest bookstore in all the world with my BFF.

As I close in on the ripe ole' age of 44, I feel as if I'm changing in many ways. I feel like I might actually be becoming a grown-up. There's a lot that I want to experiment with. A lot of areas that I want to grow in. Too many to list here.

Come on, spring. Mama needs a new pair of flip-flops.

On Losing My Mind

Sometimes, it's kind of cool to have a famous person in your dream. They appear out of nowhere and in your dream, the fact that they are in your home, or that they know you, is no big deal. It seems normal. Casual. When you wake up, you feel like you actually know that person.

But, this is getting a little weird.

After the week of dreams I had last week with female movie stars, finally, a male. Carlos Santana.

Me and a group of my college friends, three girls, (college?) were looking to rent the top floor of a cool house somewhere near the ocean. Next thing I know, I'm rooming with Carlos Santana. We had a discussion about his music, I told him about Brian and how he loved Santana, that Brian was also a lead guitarist and musician, and that his favorite group of all time was Pink Floyd. Carlos said he remembered Brian and told me that he had in fact, attended his funeral. He said it was the grooviest funeral that he had ever attended. Needless to say, we bonded after that and became the best of roomies.

The sub-conscious is so very interesting. Carlos Santana? How long has he been lurking around in there and why? I like the man and his music, but really....Carlos Santana?

At least I have my weird dreams to keep my occupied during these long, winter months.

Wonder what tonight holds for me and why isn't Bruce Willis lurking around in there?

Hello? Bruce?

Women...Can't live with

Today has been a female day. All the men in my house were gone for the day.

And I had an epiphany. My youngest daughter, who's 14, hates me. That's not the epiphany. We haven't been on the best of terms for the last few years. This has been really hard for me because as a little girl, she was...well, she was the one who hugged me, kissed me, and told me how great I was. She smiled constantly, took everything in stride and seemed the most well-adjusted kid that I had. She adored me and was so easy going.

We called her "velcro"...she was clingy that way. I carried her everywhere.

Today, she's 14. Different. Doesn't want me to touch her. Confused, I'm sure, and so damn rude and angry. Doesn't know who she is and I admit, I've had a hard time with this. At first, I was hurt. I took it personally and practically BEGGED her to like me. BEGGED her. Trust...it was absolutely pathetic.

Three years later (yes, she bloomed early...the **** hit the fan when she was 11), I'm learning. I am not her friend. Maybe one day. But not today, not now. I have let her play me like a fiddle for too long, she has slipped away with more than her brother or her sister. The baby, my human velcro, it wasn't easy to let her go. And she knows that.

No more. She doesn't need a friend; she's got plenty. She needs a mother. A constant. Someone to tell her to slow down, someone who's not afraid to say no, someone who knows her better than she knows herself. Someone who's completely okay when she hates me because it's my job to speak the truth. To set boundries. To keep her from growing up way too fast. Not easy in today's culture.

Incidentally, but not really, in keeping with the theme, I watched a good movie today, The Women. It's a remake of a 1930's film, shown above, with Joan Crawford. There was not one man in the entire movie. Not one. Don't even think they're were extras, now that I think about it. And it was empowering. It reminded me that I, we, are stronger than we realize and that I want to pass that on to my daughters. They can see me as vunerable, but not weak, especially when it comes to parenting. It's business, not personal. Sometimes, with teenagers, that's the only way to approach it. The business of parenting. Because trust me, they want to make it personal. Always. That's part of their game.

Funny...I have been through a lot of hard times, weathered quite a few storms, but yet, when it comes to my girls, I feel like a failure. It's so different with daughters. Such extremes.

I hope they've learned some things from me. I hope when they're older, they can look back and say "my mother always said (fill in the blank). I hope they see me as strong, not because that pleases me, but because if they have, they will have learned to be strong themselves.

I hope.

Sock Monkey Boy Lives

'Nuff said.

Sock Monkey Lives

Random

This is just another reason that I like downtown. There's quite a few paintings that scale whole buildings just like this one. I'm not even sure what you call this particular piece although I'm pretty sure it's something from Greek architecture. Anyone?

.......................................

I haven't posted in a while. No particular reason other than I haven't really had anything to say. Still don't. Except for this; my dreams have been crazy lately. Really. Insane. One might say CREATIVE. Or twisted, depending on what type of person you are!

The other night, I had a long, epic dream about a place called "The Land". It was sort of like a twisted, Narnia-like place. C.S. Lewis would be proud. It was an island with odd-cultish group of Christians, all of varying degrees of flakiness. I drove there in a beat-up blue van, which of course, broke down, so while the "good" Christians made the repairs, I explored. I traveled over mountains and near oceans and ended up in a dark, dark, forest with twisted, gnarled trees. There was no sun or anything green.

This part of the land was inhabited by cannibalistic, evil Christians.

I ran.

The dream went on with me never getting my van back. The "good" Christians kept moving it and making empty promises, all the while, wearing fake, Stepford wife smiles. I was traveling with someone who was important to me, but no one that I really know. She sort of looked like Debra Winger and she too, got lost.

What the hell?

Then the night after that, I had a dream that I walked on the moon...with Julia Roberts. This dream had a slight "Solaris" feel to it, if you know that movie. To reach the moon, we had to climb the moonwalk and jump at just the right moment to land in the center. This wasn't easy because the moon kept spinning and spinning faster and it was very small. The texture was like cotton and we had to hold on tight to keep from falling off once we landed. Julia Roberts was really cool about the whole thing. But then again, she was wearing space boots.

Then last night, a weird dream about watching a movie being filmed at my Grandmother's old house, starring Madonna and Kate Winslet. Also, I beat up my son at some kind of Trade Show.

I'm sure Freud would have a field day with these little gems. Me? I'm exhausted and beginning to wonder if I have lesbian tendencies.

Where are you Bruce Willis?

Hello out there...

Hi, Grandmom and Papa Ray! I'm eating a piece of orange. I really didn't like it but I did enjoy squishing it. No, I'm still not walking yet, but I will when I'm ready. Nana says she's thinking about getting me a mini-wheelchair. I can say "fish, juice, nite-nite, thank you, no, and uh-oh...I say uh-oh a lot. A LOT. I love you both and hope I can see you soon!

Love,
Mr. Wapkaplet

Dreams

This just might be the future site of a very, eclectic, funky, comfy bookstore in downtown Shreveport, Louisiana. It would be owned and ran by two very cool, middle-aged women who don't know that they are middle-aged, yet. Me and my BFF.

We have a name for the store, which I don't want to divulge yet, for fear that one of my thousands of readers will take the name and open up their own bookstore with this incredibly, cool name. This month, we're going to begin to do some number-crunching and research on inventory. We also have a visit to a little mom and pop bookstore on the riverfront in Natchitoches planned, about an hour away, in early February. Hopefully, the owners will let us pick their brains. Natchitoches also happens to be the home to one of my favorite writers, Kate Chopin, so while I'm there, I plan to visit the plantation on which she lived.

There's a lot to do but that's part of the dream, right?

We see the store as being like someone's living room. Comfortable chairs and couches in cozy corners, warm lighting and plush, colorful rugs, a diverse selection of books, and of course, barrels of coffee beans. We also want it to be a home for local artists, a place to display and sell their work. And maybe, not so local artists...like my other BF, Diahn and her BF, Linda, both of whom reside in Knoxville, Tennessee. Well, Diahn, currently resides in Washington, DC, but still holds a permanent address in Knoxville. She's complicated that way.

This particular site is two doors down from the new Robinson Film Center, one of my favorite new places in town, a small theatre that shows Independent Films. And across the street is the Artspace.

My downtown. I've always loved it but, the powers that be, have never made it easy for new businesses to open up and thrive. It's strange...there's so much history and beauty there that I can't imagine why local government is so stifling. I'm sure it has to with money. Everything does. So stupid.

Maybe it's time for a couple of middle-aged book lovers to get involved and try to change the face of our downtown.

This looks like a job for Thelma and Louise.

Are veggies still good for you if they're drunk?

Creative everyday...hmmm. I think I'm creative everyday, in some way or another. Financially, I can be very creative. I'm creative in my marriage. Come on, you have to be. Creative in my mothering skills, also a given. Most of all, I think I'm creative in time-management and task-juggling. Again, I have to be in order to get everything done in the 24 hours allotted. But, those things aren't exactly blog worthy. No more than my previous weather stint. By the way, Saturday is was 80 degrees and by Sunday at noon, 42. We're all sick.

So you might ask, how were you creative today, Melinda? Well, I'll tell you.

I made Drunken Leeks.

Not bad, but I need to tweek the recipe a little for my taste. Also, I don't think it was a very pretty dish. It sort of looked like, well, something someone had partially digested, tainted with red Kool-Aid. Appropriate I guess, for any dish with the word "Drunken" in the title, huh?

I wonder what the judges on Top Chef would think?

Tomorrow, a picture of my tatoo for Linda.

Hey, I have to start somewhere.