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Dreamy Wisdom

I always find it amusing the way my brain tries to have dreams to help me but when it doesn’t have the information it just makes stuff up. My dream last night – after a completely exhausting day – I am accompanying a friend to a physiotherapy appointment. My friend reports persistent lower back pain and the physiotherapist nods understandingly. “I need to see you walk,” she demands, suddenly morphing into an aerobics instructor with the high cut 80’s exercise outfit, tights, and leg warmers. My friend dutifully walks across the room – which has transformed into a stage - while the therapist watches. “I see your problem now,” the therapist announces, having somehow developed a thick Russian accent. “Yes?” my friend prompts, eagerly. “Wet noodle arms,” the therapist announces. “You walk around with your arms all droopy, like this – “ she demonstrates – “and puts tremendous strain on your back.” “So what do I do?” my friend inquires anxiously. I listen intently, my sore lower back eagerly
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What to do in case your daddy dies when you aren't ready - which is ... any time, every time, for all of your life

Tell him you love him every single time you walk away because you never know when you will look back and your last words will be "I'll see you later" ... and you won't have.  And you'll be remembering how you said "I love you!" and he said "I love you too, Jess" as you walked out the door past the nosy nurse, and his voice was as reassuring and raspy and low-key and accepting as it ever and always was and you can't stop thinking about how you didn't know it was the last time you'd ever hear him saying "I love you". Tell him how much you'll miss him even though it's the last thing you think he wants to hear and you want to be a positive bedside cheerleader that only talks about the good stuff.  Because everyone wants to know they'll be missed even if they are sure they are gonna make it through this one, too. Don't wait for the right moment.  There isn't one.  There are nurses and machines and beeping
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Losing the ability to talk to other people….

So I took Anu down to the 2 nd floor terrace of our condo for his afternoon constitutional.  A few weeks ago we had a mortifying incident where he escaped from me and proceeded to go bonkers over a kid with a small bicycle who was fooling around on the terrace.  Not at the kid, at the bike.  But it went on forever – even after the kid dropped it Anu kept circling the bike and barking at it like he suspected it of being a particularly malevolent, sentient-type bike that was just.about.to.display its true colours – y’know, like picking itself back off the ground and attacking me, the kid, and Lior … very proactive of him, really. I couldn’t get him to stop barking and come back to me no matter what - and I am not exaggerating when I say I think ten minutes went by with me hugging the kid’s shoulders (he was terrified, poor thing) while trying to say sternly and authoritatively – “Anu, no.  Stop.  Down.  Sit.  Come.  Leave it.  Go play.  Stop.  Down….” I know it was a long ti
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The Man Means Business ... and the Woman is an Idiot

The Man Means Business Annette Broadrick I got this book as part of a romance bundle for my Kindle, and it was only after I "read" it that I realized it's a Silhouette Romance.  So the hilarious terrible-ness of this book is something I actually should have anticipated. I read the first few pages of this book; I actually thought it was supposed to be a quick, sexy romance, and the premise was sort of interesting (well, it would have been if it were a sexy romance ... ) so I plodded through the first few pages before I'd had it. This book has all of the worst things about the Silhouette series - an infantile, moronic female protagonist, a 'powerful' 'businessman' who doesn't know how to have fun, and a conflict that no one cares about or that would really exist for people who weren't cursed with the reasoning capacity of a goldfish. Storyline:  employee (some kind of executive assistant) of the owner of a security company gets asked by
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My first book review

Jade Black – Politically Incorrect 2 – Subjugated OMG what the hell is this book? Last night we watched an episode of the West Wing (the bf and I are re-watching the series). Among other things, they were dealing with a story that came out of Saudi Arabia where 17 girls perished in a fire at their school.   Why?   The rescue workers were forbidden by the religious police to rescue the girls because they weren’t DRESSED properly. I thought this was horrific and knew it was almost certainly true, but I had to google it today just to be sure, and sure enough:   On March 15, 2002, 15 girls were killed in a fire at their school when the “ Commission for the Promotion of Virtue and Prevention of Vice ” (religious police) prevented firemen from rescuing them because “it [was] sinful to approach them”.   ~ The Telegraph (UK) They were actually beaten when they tried to exit without their headscarves and black robes and then forced back INTO the burning school.   The religious police carry stic
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Apartment-Hunting - The Pain of Success :)

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So boyfriend and I went apartment hunting last week.  It was more like - apartment-hunting safari, or ... or something.  We went at it like "we was killin' snakes"*, which is a phrase I don't quite understand but I'm using it anyway!  It was an incredibly high-speed, hi-volume, exhausting hunt that started the morning after we got here, and involved like five or six apartment viewings PER DAY.  We kept falling in love with various places and completing the application, and somehow, despite the fact that boyfriend is a student and I am currently unemployed, AND we have a dog, we kept getting approved.  * I read it in a book once and it's been stuck in my head ever since, probably because it brings up a hundred unanswered questions.  I mean, does one usually go at killing snakes with a sort of manic demented rage?  Unless you're terrified of them, but in that case I'd just run - I'm not fast on my feet but I'm pretty sure I can outrun a snake.  A
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why I am missmatched now ....

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Five years ago I bought my first car, brand new, a shiny little black Chevy coupe.  I had a perfectly serviceable car at the time that was just much older and not flashy: a 1994 Oldsmobile Achieva; I still miss that car!! But I wanted to be seen looking successful and flashy and stylin' in my sporty coupe.  I was heading home to where I'd grown up and although I didn't know it at the time, I was feeling insecure about how little I thought I'd achieved in life.  I wanted a symbol of my success, or at least, a way to fake it, when I went back.  So I bought it, and went a step further and got the upgraded sports model with shiny rims & sunroof & spoiler & fancy-ass sound system ..... That car was awesome, and I loved it.  Until about five minutes after I signed the contract and went to talk to the friendly insurance agent.  When I realized that my insurance payment was going to be two thirds of my car payment all over again, I started to feel a little short of
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