dreams torrential and cleaning the smudge away

Last night's dream: It was my wedding day and my mother had made my dress, but it looked nothing like I had imagined. Instead, it had a big deep red skirt with black scrollwork. It was beautiful, but I hated it--this wasn't what I had wanted. And in the dream, Kylie, who is K's best man's ex-wife (a friend from undergraduate days in Duluth), arrived in her wedding dress and was about to marry K. Or maybe she was trying to marry Mike again. I couldn't tell. All I knew was that she was wearing a white dress and showing up at my wedding. We also weren't getting married on the beach, as we plan to, but in this mansion. Each floor had a wedding party on it, and after we got married, all our guests floated upstairs to other weddings, with brides wearing white dresses. K disappeared and he eventually changed into jeans and a tshirt (so typical), and I was furious--how would anyone know he was the groom? How could anyone tell I was the bride? (To which, I ask, now that I have woken up: Who cares? Good lord, I'm a bridezilla in my dreams.) So I did what I always did so well when I was crabby in high school: I pouted. I sat in what looked like a lobby and grumped, my heels making it difficult to walk around. I think at some point, I was down where our reception was supposed to be, which had turned into a scary basement with a DJ and some white glowing lights beneath swags of sheer fabric, and K showed up. I threw my shoes at him and ran off.


I fell asleep last night frustrated about the wedding. It is only two and a half months away and it's difficult to plan. I hadn't realized this until we approached decision making time, and with K, everything gets decided slowly. I am an impulse buyer and he is the kind of person that wants to think things over, weigh our options. I just want to get it off my to-do list so I can move on to the next thing. We're also both procrastinators, which makes some things (honeymoon, passport) a bit precarious. So I was flopping around in frustration, wishing I could please everyone, wishing I didn't have this nagging fear that we would get closer to the day and there would be great gaps in my planning, and I whispered to K, "It's like there is a cyclone in my head. There's this crazy whirlwind and I can't get it to stop." He folded me into his arms and held me close and said to me, "There's always a center of the storm." I love this man.


Today we had a bit of a cleaning marathon and though I can't say it looks phenomenally better, I can say our garbage and recycling containers are more impressively bulging and we've kept the laundry room on its toes. And a certain someone is going to get a bag of cloths sporting This High School's logo (by the way, if folks are curious as to why I post pictures of things I don't name in this blog: I am, though very meager, attempting to avoid being google sought [searched] as this is how my first blog was found by students) as I don't need all that gear with my new high school on the horizon. It's amazing how quickly we accumulate, given in to school spirit and the rapture of a new job. It is a secret thrill to be there, to shake our pom poms at the pep fest and go to the football games, blanket spread on the hill above the field. And I'll doubtless have a few purple and red shirts to add to my pile. One of my colleagues suggested I someday make a quilt from the tshirts I do keep... I have a half dozen or so I want to keep for nostalgia (reminding me of advising the lit mag and drama, of being there when the school was established and the variety show, etc). But really? I have something like a baker's dozen to get rid of, more to stumble upon, and maybe eight to keep. How did my wardrobe turn so quickly?



I've started a new tradition in our house: keeping fresh flowers by the kitchen sink each week. This is the only place the cats and dogs do not pull them down, plucking leaves and petals one by one in a big, maddening mess. Two weeks ago it was tulips, and today, K brought these home for me.


This corn, K goofily christened "Bob" and called him a cyclops, which he promptly ate. This is all that remains of the corn, a little too early in season. He's got a clever sense of whimsy, which is so warm and comforting. I love to fold myself up in his good moods, love that he draws me in and keeps me smiling. He wouldn't let me take his picture directly, but he offered this (I must also add, these are the kinds of shoes he and his groomsmen will be wearing at our wedding; we also registered for a case of Pepsi, and if you know K, you will appreciate these little things that are so him):