Be My Head

A friend recommended a book to me that I really didn't enjoy. "The Artist's Way", it seemed too new agey for me. Not that I don't like New Age stuff, just some of it bores me to tears, or it is written poorly~~~ "Drawing Down the Moon" for me was a huge flop. I specially ordered it, and was very dissappointed by the writing. I figure if you are going to go to the trouble of writing a book, write it nicely. When I read something like that, I expect it to be life changing, but when it seems like it is written sloppily, I just can't. This was a book I needed for a few essays I did in college regarding Wicca. What I did glean from The Artist's Way was to write two pages per day, or set aside an hour for writing, without worrying about grammar or spelling. Which I really haven't been doing lately, I have tried to perfect the art of procrastination. So, without a topic or an idea, I am just going to write aimlessly from now on. Last night I did have a dream and it was based on the book Ozma of Oz. My mother, had picked up a few of the first edition Oz books at a garage sale for me when I was about eight. In the story (I think it was Ozma) a woman could exchange her heads. She had a room of them and depending on her mood, she could just put a head on that suited her demeanour. Blonde heads, Red Heads, Brunnette Heads, ugly heads, pretty heads. It must be Bub's comment that sparked the dream. I was exchanging my head, but it was a really ugly head that I had decided on. I didn't wake up gasping or flailing like I usually do. Sometimes Adam will catch me sleepwalking or actually standing on the edge of the bed. The worst sleepwalking experience was when rented an apartment in downtown London. I ended up on my front porch, in my skivvies (actually it was a one piece pastel flowered ensemble, that had a back flap with buttons). It must have been break time at Labatt's and there I awoke. Or when I lived in a high-rise I found myself out on the balcony. My daughter's are like that too, they wake up and talk in a very strange language. I have had to hide all the stuff from the medicine cabinet because my eldest daughter walked in her sleep and came to me with a bottle of peroxide, and said she was "thirsty". It brings to mind that really great Flaming Lips Song . . ."Be my head, and I'll be yours". I am getting excited for Christmas. . .today dh is off on shutdown, after work, although sick as a dog, it will be a nice rest. I miss having "shut down" and I still kick myself for quitting. With the sixteen hours that we were away from home, the girls were frazzled. So here I am, missing work, (actually, the action of leaving for work, and going to a place to work outside the home, and the social interaction there). I have a lot of work here with the rentals, today I have to get my handy dandy drill out and fix some of the skirting around the rental, try to find a new lock to install in the mudroom, take Wookie for a jaunt in the woods, and tidy up the house, find the Sister's Fats and maybe give them a brush. Mabel was running around last night, for a fat cat, she sure can be active. Her stomach hits the ground, I know that this is not good, but, I have them on special kibble, yet if I don't feed them when they want it, they scream at me and try to trip me. I also have some books out from the library that may be overdue. . .a travesty. I am really anal when it comes to books being overdue. The funny thing is I can't find them and two of them are on organization. Anytime that I take out books on organization, they get lost. There is also the John Irving book that I haven't touched (The Hotel New Hampshire guy). The doby next door that I have been looking after (visiting), had a doodle and a pee on the floor (next door). Talk about gross, the dog is so big that the turds are the size of my pug or a small chicken. The cat's that the tenant has, knocked over all their t.v. stuff on Sunday, I had no idea how to get it working again, so the animals next door have been without the Shopping Channel for a while. It kept them company. It is a very sunny day outside, I am wondering if I can actuallly cultivate Hens and Chicks inside (no not the feathered ones, I am not that nuts)"Sempervivum". They may look nice. I did manage to snip my baltic ivy that I am trying to grow on the embankment (for lack of a better word) outside my house. If the snow plow and the road salt doesn't kill it, I will be very happy. I am a black thumbed gardener, I try my hardest, but I can't seem to grow a nice garden. I can't see the forest for the trees, I plunk things. Then halfway through the summer, in full knowledge that I shouldn't, I dig things up and move them. Then I forget to water, and things just fry on the south side of the house. My only salvation are my hollyhocks, and I am going to try to start some inside this year. I have some black ones that are absolutely gorgeous, I am in love with the hollyhock, malva, rose of sharon, anything Althea. Now the government is telling me it will be another three weeks for the vendors permit. . .not that I am going to sell my wares at a flea market, (that is just not me). But I would like to have been able to hit some trade shows, the ones where you can buy wholesale, and you need a vendors permit to get in. Oh well, such is life. Fifteen minutes of power typing is enough for now. I have to get trucking.