Dreams

I have been in a cycle of not really writing about personal things; I mean the personal things that cause one to feel sad or choke up or feel the weight of regret and guilt. Lately, I have been having dreams about my Mother – dreams in which I am very angry with her. It is not a good thing to wake-up to, and, in fact, Der Bingle has had to waken me from some of the nightmares.

I think I am actually angry at myself and that Mother is not really haunting my dreams . . . because if it is the latter, a post-AmeliaJake-death  meeting of the two of us could be ghastly and not just ghostly. My father told me when I was young that he and Mother did not expect to be repaid for anything they had done for me – that I was to pass it on to my children. I’m trying, Daddy; I am trying.

Going to the post office

Well, heeheeheee, a box is packed for LZP’s birthday and it is ready to be taped up and taken to be sent out.  The price of one of the items is still on it because, yes, it was a Sign from God purchase from GoodWill.  I was driving on Dupont and a voice kept nagging me to go to GoodWill . . . for the Fun of the Hunt. (Hint: hidden unintentional pun)

It is silly, not much, but oh, so appropriate. I mean who would expect a _____ (to be filled in after LZP receives it) to be sitting there on a shelf, waiting for me.

Oh, by the way, more folks here at the PBC & R took off for the Ohio Redoubt . . . are they tired of our peanut butter? Tempted by the land of Cousin Vinny’s Pizza and Hot-Headed Burrito? Or could it be my personality? Oh, of course not, AmeliaJake; you are the nicest, most wonderful, sweetest person in the whole wide world.

Ack, the keyboard is in spasms!!!!!!!Rtuy;jn] CALMING TOUCH ON KEYS . . . Uh, yes, I may have exaggerated my magnificentude; I’ll try to be more humble.