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?

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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.

The Grinch, not such a bad guy

Christmas is over.

And I'm officially sick of it. I have had a nice Christmas this year, as far as my stress level goes. Things are good with my family and I have much to be grateful for, and I am grateful. Very grateful.

However, I have noticed a lack of gratitude with my daughters this year. Part of it is that they are teenagers and part of it is that I think they have been overindulged this past year. This is the first year that they've done nothing, absolutely nothing, for anyone else. Well, there was that one night this week that they both babysat for me while I went to see a movie with a friend. I made it through the whole movie without one phone call or text. How nice. Found out today that the reason for that was because they were busily unwrapping and re-wrapping each and every present under the tree.
That explains the stench of disappointment that hung in the air when they finished opening their gifts this morning. Stinky.

Tomorrow, I think I'll drag the tree, ornaments and lights and all, down to the curb. I want it out of my house! I realize you can't left the selfishness of others spoil your Christmas, but it's not just that. I am sick of the commercialism and the pressure that Christmas brings. Isn't that the opposite of what it's supposed to be about? Or do we even truly remember what it's supposed to be about? I'm not sure I do, honestly. I get caught up in it just like everyone else does. But why in the hell should we focus on love and relationships and giving this one time of the year? Shouldn't it be this way all year long? Wouldn't it mean more if we did? No lights, no reason, just because? And let's face it, I know we who are Christians say it's about the birth of Christ but it isn't really, not anymore, if it ever was.

It's about a whole lot of expectations to make everything perfect which is completely unrealistic. And when it's not perfect, there's a tremendous letdown. Because life isn't perfect. It's messy, unpredictable and the beauty comes in everyday, mundane life. It comes in the things that surprise you, the moments that you don't plan for. It comes without boxes, ribbons or bows, thank you very much, Mr. Grinch.

Every year, I realize, I have this competition with myself to make this "the best Christmas ever!" and I always lose. Because my emphasis is on the wrong thing. The almighty dollar. Screw that. This year, my son is back with us, laughing, being the life of every room, because that's who he is. He makes us laugh. He's whole again.

And my daughters will eventually get over the disease known as teenagerism. They're good at heart, I just need to get them back to the basics.

And then there is Mr. Wapkaplet...sweetest boy on the planet. Loves unconditionally and easily, smiles constantly and hugs and kisses freely. He and Jess were the Christmas spirit this year, they kept me grounded amidst the commercial carnage.

Next year, I think I might skip Christmas. Or at least, do my best to experience an alternative Christmas. One that only gives in ways that have absolutely nothing to do with money. Especially for the sake of my girls, who seem to have lost their way a little bit this past year.

Please, dear reader, remind me of that next year when I start stressing about finances and Christmas lists. Let me rewrite that, christmas lists. I'm not even going to capitalize it anymore. Seriously.

So here's to the next holiday in line, New Year's! A drinking man, or woman's, holiday! A philosopher's holiday, a time for reflection and having fun.

Perfect.