Monday, July 15, 2013

Perry and Della and Perry and Della...

Well Hallelujah, the President celebrated the 5000th Point of Light with the George Bush we all love.  And it was Open press.  No way the former President was going to allow this opportunity to help those points of light go unnoticed and uncovered – by the media.  So good for him and good for them both.  The picture they release is not so good, but at least you can see more than the White House photo if you want.  Tomorrow there is  a press briefing with Jay Carney, big whoop, and the President is being interviewed by a Hispanic TV show – I wonder if they’ll let the anchor in with his crew.  Needless to say, no one else will be there. We’re just sayin'…. Staff.

Two things:  First I am lighting 2 yahrzeit candles tonight, (also it’s a Jewish holiday called Tish’a Bav – which I always thought was a make –up holiday), so thanks for all the advice and suggestions.  Only this morning David asked if it was my mom who said, “I once asked my children if they had a happy childhood” in the documentary.  Yes it was,  but she never asked us if we were happy.  It was just assumed we were happy unless we were obnoxious in school. David got stung by two hornets tonight,  so we asked mom and dad to bless our  antihistamine.  My brother lit candles this morning, so we have the day pretty much covered. 

Second, and having nothing to do with anything…  it is always disturbing when I remember my dreams.  And lately that’s what has been happening.  Last night was a doozey. 

Perry Mason and Della Street were living together. It was before anyone knew Perry was gay.   Tipper Gore was visiting Barbara Stanwick  and she died. Everyone went to the funeral, which was somewhere out West in the 1800’s. I was invited and I went but somehow I found myself with three joints, which since I don’t smoke, I was going to use to trade for transportation. All of a sudden,  I was at a party and the police came and raided it,  but the dogs were happy to be with people and  didn’t find the joints.  Someone at the party said he would drive  me to the airport in my rental car, (I have no idea where I was going) but it didn’t matter since   he dropped me in the middle of nowhere and took the dope and the car.   So I started to walk in high heels (which I can neither walk nor balance in.) I had to get to the SF airport so somehow found a cab, which broke down and I started walking again, across some bridge. It was then that I got on a bus (I guess it picked me up on the side of the road).  I was carrying three suitcases.  They dropped me off at United Airlines, and I raced in carrying the luggage. It was well overweight, but the plane was about to leave and I had to run down three flights of stairs, having been able to skip paying the excess charge.  But on the stairwell a guy tried to rob me and I started to scream—and I woke up… Still screaming, David tells me.  I won’t even get into last night, although it involved cooking and shooting.  But it was not as memorable.

With that said, I understand dreams are a reflection of your inner thoughts and your fears.  If so, then I am clearly afraid of the wild west and carrying my own luggage.  We’re just sayin’… Iris

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