Thursday, July 2, 2015

Temporary reinstatement of emergency procedures

    First question is why am I sitting at a laptop plugged into the wall during a thunderstorm. A: Because I'm dumb. Any further questions?
    We had a severe thunderstorm warning this afternoon, and the clouds to match, so I pulled out an old trick. My neighborhood has a lot of trees, but unfortunately relatively few shade the streets where one does most of one's walking. Thus, I normally do my daily walk in other places, driving to get there I'm ashamed to say. However, when Dad or Margaret were in poor health or likely to need me, I would walk around the neighborhood instead, making it a point to go no farther than a block or two from home at my farthest or is that furthest point.
    Did that today and even though I beat the rain completely, I felt pretty smart when it came later and in torrents. And it occurred to me that even in this current life, with no hope, romance, point, purpose or prospects, it's still neat that I no longer have to be tied to one or two blocks from home most of the time. The prospect of getting my old breezy happy-go-lucky self back some day soon seems more plausible than previously. Especially if I get my hands off this keyboard while the thunder is still shaking the house!

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Clapping at the DMV

    Don't start with me. I'm finally getting around to changing the cars out of my Dad's name. This is not nearly so straightforward as I was hoping. I went to the actual DMV headquarters (which is a freaking palace; if you're in central SC, you should go just to goggle) instead of the office up the road from me which is much much more busy. I got the forms I need and much needed direction and a certain begrudging courtesy. The lady who waited on me was very curt but that's ok; so am I. She said, "Driver's license!" then realized that since I was handling an estate I might be rich and added, "please."
    The rest of the staff, when they had helped somebody, would break out into applause. It was sort of like state government's answer to Moe's or Outback Steaks. Slightly surreal. My lady wasn't so much into the applause, but that was ok, too. I appreciated the help anyway.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

I'm still dreaming; this is bad

    So I dreamed that the brother whom I never see anymore and I were living in some odd group home/ dormitory setting where we didn't know anyone. I noticed that all my personal property except for my keys were missing. I was trying to look for them but I hit a button and suddenly we were in a kind of video game and we teleported somehow into a car, driving. We went by my parents' house. They were both still alive and in command of their faculties. They too were living with a lot of people whom I at least didn't know. My parents and the other residents were all gathered around the front door, looking out at the street while the second floor of their house was burning. My brother and I had to go to work. I said, "Wait, our parents are dead, I must still be dreaming; this isn't going to be good." But we went off to work. I don't remember details, but it wasn't good. And THAT'S why you don't read William Gibson before going to bed!

Monday, June 29, 2015

Dreams nice and frustrating, respectively

    The nice one was very nice. To start with, Dad and Margaret were fully healthy. They were not living in a nursing home, but were instead helping out there, volunteering to assist the residents. But the nicer part, perhaps, was that I kept almost calling Margaret "mom," as in "Dad and Mom" instead of "Dad and Margaret." So I finally just told her that sooner or later I would accidentally call her that, so she might as well be ready. I think she was pleased.
    The frustrating dream was kind of amusing, though. Paul and I were walking about the countryside and there were fences everywhere. We were talking about the apocalypse, hoping that before humans exited we would tear down all these darn fences so that the animals could get around OK. Then we went to a pizza place. There the barrier theme continued (as well as the apocalyptic one, depending how you feel about pizza). There were glass partitions that you couldn't get past to get to where you order. Paul climbed over. I managed to find a spot where I could squeeze between. The space was maybe an inch wide. In real life, I'm at least probably at least six inches thick, but hey, it's a dream. Maybe I disarticulated. Never did get any darn pizza.

Sunday, June 28, 2015

The high lords of timing

    Paul and I had another wonderful visit to Bull's Island in Cape Romain National Wildlife Refuge. (I think that's right; you could look it up.) Or rather we had two visits, as he primarily swam and sat and watched the ocean and I primarily walked and took pictures of dead trees at renowned Boneyard Beach. On the way back, I was just overwhelmed with complete sand dollars, finding vastly more than I could actually carry back. I put them in various compartments of my pack and brought home nearly two dozen, almost all complete. Which is just flat ridiculous. Another half dozen or more crumbled by the wayside, sadly, but c'est la guerre.
    What impressed us though was that the weather looked threatening the whole way down, rain clouds seemed to be heading our way throughout the visit, but we had beautiful weather all the way. We actually packed up the ferry and returned early, by which time the ugly weather was much, much closer. We got back just ahead of us and the rain started literally before we were a mile up the road. We are the timing gods! Or rather the crew from Coastal Expeditions are. Kudos!
    We also dug great tacos at Taco Spot in West Ashley for dunch. (Linner? Lupper? Sunch?) And great music to go with it. And they took their gluten-free dairy-free very seriously, for which I was very grateful. And we left roses at my mom's grave. Twelve years in only a few days. Sigh.

Saturday, June 27, 2015

But I can't remember them!

    I'm having extra weird dreams lately, but they flee by morning. I have the impression of the usual stuff: my dad's house, only gigantic and full of cool rooms and cool furniture and, I think, a train station. (There's ALWAYS a train station.) There was also an episode last night where I was driving somebody down a sidewalk in something that was sort of a bicycle and sort of a jeep. I was very annoyed by all the dips for non-existent driveways. Seemed to be the usual thing of my brain annoying me to let me know I needed to get up and go to the bathroom. I still don't see why my subconscious can't just announce it.
    The most amusing dream lately had me about to be sent onstage to dance as a woman in a gogo joint. I was still trying to figure out how this was going to work, and looking around for a heavy duty electric razor when somebody handed me something that was supposed to be a camera. I was now supposed to spy on one of the customers. This probably had something to do with the radio show playing at the time, which was about a mobster spying on a hardware store owner because the former was about to be charged in an open and shut murder case and the latter looked exactly like him. The mobster trained himself in all of the hardware store guy's mannerisms, took him for a ride, took his place, and of course was immediately arrested because the guy whose place he had taken had just killed his wife. Best twist ending ever, and it saved me from a life as a gogo dancer.

Friday, June 26, 2015

Still they lead me back

    Paul McCartney came to town last night. Macca puts on quite a show, quite a show. He gave us 3 hours, or pretty nearly, which considering his age is dang astonishing. He also dedicated "The Long and Winding Road" to the people killed in Charleston last week, which struck me as brave, considering that it isn't entirely an optimistic song. Or maybe it seemed not to be way back when because it was the last Beatles single.
    He also performed "Blackbird" solo, saying that he had written in hopes of giving black people in the States in the '60s hope, which I had never heard and would have never guessed. I guess I wasn't of an age for penetrating metaphor yet. He played it beautifully on a forward stage that I don't think they used otherwise. (Claire, who was nice enough to give me the ticket, said that they did two or three songs up there, so I'll go ahead and believe her.)
    There were a lot of gaps, good and bad, in the playlist. I was surprised that he didn't play Get Back, Junior's Farm or any of the really awful stuff from the '70s. Considering where we are, a nice Hold My Hand/I Want To Hold Your Hand medley would have been in order, but no! As an exercise, you might want to make a Paul McCartney playlist. Great googly moogly he has a lot of songs! He missed many of my favorites, but I didn't feel in any way cheated.
    Otherwise, I just couldn't hold out on a bathroom break when Back in the USSR rolled around, so made my run. Since I was seated apart from the other three in the party and since it was very late and surely, I thought, he wouldn't be playing much longer, I decided to stand for the rest of the show. Trying to get back to our section, I went down rather than up. In the expensive seats, boy, they're quick to clear you off the stair areas. Up in the cheap seats, nobody ever bothered us, and people were on the stairs for the remainder of the show. I was really grateful to be there when Live And Let Die turned into a pyrotechnic spectacular. I held on to that railing hard!
    The other slightly weird thing was that there was free wi-fi that worked on the concourse but not in the seats. However, it did work right up to the steps and even a few feet into the arena. I don't know what that means. Since my phone worked fine, as far as I can tell, it isn't a Faraday cage. Go figure. I'll just plan not to download anything major at my next basketball game.