Wednesday, March 31, 2010

The State of Affairs

Ya know, LDs, I'm never sure of my status in politics. I try not to talk politics, not just because I'm worried I'm going to offend someone (which I'm not, I just don't like being yelled at because my views are different...and I've gotten just that). It's mostly because I'm so damn confused.

I'm ok with helping out people who need it.
Let me clarify that. If you work and you try and you don't abuse the system, I have no problem with my tax dollars going to help you keep food on your table for your kids because your paychecks go to heat your home. It's when you have five kids and you get a job and work just long enough to be eligible for unemployment benefits again, and you do something stupid to get fired. You get to draw unemployment for the next eighteen months (or whatever it is), as long as you are actively 'looking' for a job. Please don't take this as me bragging, but I've only had to have unemployment one time...last fall...for one week...because our company mandated two weeks of furloughs. I've been working in some capacity or another since I was fifteen.

I'm ok with the government being in charge of police and fire departments and the military. I'm not ok with them telling me what I can and can't do - seat belts and smoking are two examples. If I choose not to wear a seatbelt, so be it. While I do not believe in abortion, I'm not going to demand that everyone else believe the same way I do. If you are love the person that you are with and could see yourself with that person until you're old and grey (like the one I have with Mr Realist), I don't care that you share the same gender. What matters is that you are happy. Why should I be allowed to marry and you can't?

I do have a problem with the Health Care bill. How are the House, the Senate, and the President exempt from this?

The reason I post this is because I follow Mrs. Flinger. She's the one who started the {W}rite of Passage that I was participating in (it's kind of on hiatus for now), and she's pretty damn cool. She posted I'm a Libertarian earlier this evening, and it struck a chord with me. She's made some very good points, and even though there was a slightly heated discussion that went on not long before I commented, it wasn't name calling and such like you've undoubtedly seen on other blogs or FB. It was civil.

And provocative.

I'm going to have to find both The Jungle and Gulag Archipelago, just for educational purposes (and since I'm going to be on, I might get them for nothing!), along with 1984 (o's like I'm back in college).

No matter if you're Democrat or Republican, Libertarian or Liberal or Conservative, Independent, Whig, or even Anarchist, I'll still call you friend.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your calm and yet confused
Mrs Dreamer

Written Word Wednesday

Ok, LDs. Today, I'm not going to give you Ashley and Andrew. This is something that I wrote in about three minutes about six months ago. It's not haunting me, per se; just...speaking. I can see this in one picture.

And I want my friend to draw it for me.

gun-toting, sword-wielding angel
defender of the underdog
kick your ass broad
who paints with an evil stroke of
genius and could
kill you with a look or spoken
word dragon who devours
souls with a toasty

as you sit in your mild room of comfort,
dreaming the shallow dreams of your own existence

she's left you in a pile of your own



Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Mrs D

Tuesday, March 30, 2010

Day One (amended)

There's an amendment to this walking thing.

Last time, we tried too hard at the beginning and burnt ourselves out.

So we're starting with three days a week for a couple of reasons:
1. not to burn out (than to fade away [five points if you can name that song])
2. so I don't overdo the knee and make it worse.

It was nice to snooze in for a couple more rounds this morning. :)

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your calm
Mrs Dreamer

Monday, March 29, 2010

Day One

Well...we've made it through Day One of 5.30am walking. We have a route that takes us just under 20 minutes for now. This is going to suck, but we're going to slog through it.

Fat Ass, here we come!

Mrs Dreamer
Height: 5'4 3/4"
Weight: 228lbs (just weighed on the industrial scale at work on Friday)
Measurements (Left/Right):
Bicep - 17/17
Breast - 48.75
Waist - 48.5
Hips - 55
Thigh - 31/29.5

I'm only going to chart measurements once a month. I used to have a semi-hourglass figure (waist was markedly different than breast/hips, which had always been close in size since I got them).

We're going to get it back.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your sick of being 'pleasingly plump'
Mrs Dreamer

Bitch and Moan Monday


Good evening, my LDs. How are you on this fine Monday? We're not too bad here (yeah, there's more than one of them up there, rattling around my ol' brain).

If you couldn't figure out, it's Bitch and Moan Monday! sponsored by one of my most favorite bloggy LDs, Kisha!

Today, LDs, there's one thing I'd like to Bitch & Moan about today.

~~Rude neighbors.
Would you let your dog shit in someone else's yard and not clean it up? What would you do if it was both neighbors - one to the east and one to the west?

Ya see, we've got a bunch of hoosiers living two houses to the east of us (the house directly east is empty and for sale). There are three or four adults and four kids living in a two-bedroom house. They don't clean up their trash very often. They're dirty and yelly and just obnoxious. They have two dogs that we see on a daily basis (they used to have three, but one got hit by a car because they didn't put it on a leash), and God knows how many more inside that we don't see.

They take them outside to do their business, and they do it in the yard of the empty house...and don't pick it up! These are small dogs - like Papillion or chihuahua mix or something just as obnoxious. They were named Killer and Rambo and Butch. Rambo was the one that was hit by a car. They're now calling them (on occasion; I still hear Killer and Rambo every once in a while) Daisy and Duke.

Ask. Just ask me what my dogs' names are.

I dare you.

The group to the west of us is a Pentecostal (not saying anything bad, just giving you a head's up) family of mom, dad, son (who is actually mom's from a previous marriage...and that dude's in jail now), daughter one, and daughter two; in the 'guest house' (garage turned tattoo parlor turned small apartment) is mom and dad of the mother of the big house. They have a mutt rescued from a shelter (she's had a few litters in her day. Poor gal's got some serious nipple-dragging going on.) and a yorkie (?). Those two dogs shit in our side yard.

Ok. Granted we don't spend time in our side yard, nor do we go into the empty yard that often (even though we were asked to mow during the summers, and we'd really like to buy the place and tear it down), but please. For the love of all that is right and holy in this messed-up world.

Pick. Up. After. Your. Fucking. Dogs.

Would it be rude to bag it up and put it on their respective porches sometime in the wee hours of the morning when their world is asleep?

Or would it be nicer to set it aflame? :)

Ooooo...I like the idea of flaming poo.

It got me going this morning when I one of the dogs had his ass facing my front door as he took a shit.

Just what I wanted to see at 7.45 this morning.

The shit-stretched anus of a small ankle-biting dog.


What are you Bitching and Moaning about today?
Someone piss in your Cheerios? (better not...I lurve the Cheerios)
Husband not take out the trash?

Or were you having a peachy-keen kind of day? (asshats)

Must have been nice.

Oh well.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your quite annoyed
Mrs Dreamer

Sunday, March 28, 2010

Start Your Engines Sunday

LDs, please don't hate me because I haven't posted since Monday. I've been busy all week, and WWW didn't happen because I was cleaning. We were having dinner guests on Thursday before darts, and I had to get some of this shiz around my house cleaned up.

I had prepared to shut the door to our bedroom.

Of course, Mr Realist gives them (friends; two bachelor guys) a tour of the house...including the messy master bedroom! ACK! They didn't even bat an eye (gotta love the bachelors).

Anyway, here's my news. I'm getting ready to hit the sack because we're getting up at 5.15 in the God-forsaken AM to go on a 20 minute walk (to start, of course).

Every day.

Five days a week.

Because we're participating in the Fat Ass 5K in May in Springfield (yes, that is the name of it). The monies raised will go to three different charities and there's a huge party afterwards.

Ya see, LDs, I've been watching my calories. Very rarely does it go above 2K or even 2200. Someone did tell me today that I looked like I have been losing weight, but I figure that's because of the hour and a half-long therapy that I do three days a week. Doc can't get mad at me for wanting to get better, can he?

Besides, I have to do something.

And I have a confession to make. Because a picture depressed me so much about my shape (yes, round is a shape, and it's only good for sports balls and doughnuts), I even contemplated bulimia.

Please do not judge and do not tell me I'm out of my mind. I said I contemplated it. I hate puking. I hate puking so much I'd rather be miserable for three days then to puke and get it over with in several hours (being drunk, for example).

So...we're beginning our walking tomorrow. I'll try to post something about it every day that we do it - how far we went, if we jogged any (good Lord, I need a decent sports bra that doesn't make Thelma and Louise wanna be close friends with my chin [yeah, they can touch...]. Any ideas? Gotta negate the bounce), and how I felt after.

Pray for me. I can't do this anymore, so I'm taking charge.

And I need my LDs help.

So, here's a before picture. I'll try to get a better one tomorrow, and I'll try to post an update once a week. Maybe I should take measurements as well.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your soon-to-be-sweaty
Mrs Dreamer

Monday, March 22, 2010

Bitch and Moan Monday


Ya know, LDs, I'm feeling surprisingly good today. It was a very busy day for me. As far as it being Bitch and Moan Monday...

I'm not going to comment on the passing of the Health Care Bill. There will inevitably be someone I offend, and whilst I normally don't care, my mumsy made an incredibly good point this evening on the phone.

"I make less than $15,000 a year. Everyone's going to be required to have health care, and if you don't, you'll be fined. How in the blue fuck (a.n. - yeah, she said that) am I supposed to afford the fines if I can't afford the plan?"

I was in a heated discussion this afternoon on FB with people I knew from college, and I seemed to be right in the middle of an both an extreme Liberal and an equally extreme Conservative (I think I contemplated hari kari at one point; it got that heated). I'm a bit confused on the whole point. I have health insurance through work. Does that mean I still have to buy into the government's plan?

Sorry, Kish. There's not much I want to B&M about today.

O! When I got home from PT, Mr Realist had emptied the dishwasher and refilled it! Yay!

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your relaxed
Mrs Dreamer

Sunday, March 21, 2010

One Hundred!

LDs, I didn't think I'd make it this far. This is my 100th postie!

I started this blog on a lark. I was blogging quite informally when I had a Myspace account (lame), and I tried to post at least twice a week (alas, didn't always work out that way. Kind of like here.) and over there, I had friends who commented on the Ashley/Andrew story - told me what worked, what made sense, and what made them go "WTF are you talking about, Mrs D (of course, over there, I wasn't Mrs D. I was just me. Not that I'm not me NOW, but you get my point.).

I rambled over there. I posted stupid quizzes that others had sent me, and at the time, I found amusing (ya know, I might do that again. Just because.)

Now, look at me. I have ten followers (four of you whom I've never met, and wouldn't give up for anything!)! You comment, commiserate, snark and shine with me.

Lately, I've been blah. Not about blogging, but about life in general. There are days when I'm really glad Mr Realist doesn't read my blog, and there are days I wished he did. Mostly, it comes in waves - when I've had a horrible, rotten, no-good day (and that's more often than not anymore, LDs...and it's mostly because of things that I have no control over).

The knee is slowly getting better, and Doc's been giving me more exercises to do. Right now, I spend about an hour and a half in knee strengthening therapy. Boy...really glad that I don't have anything better to do three nights a week (extreme roll of the eyes). Seriously? If you're going to have me do harder exercises, you need to move out of the ones that are semi-duplicates or don't really work what needs to be at all. At least it's getting stronger, and I think it's helping me get my half hour, three days a week of exercise in! :)

Went and saw Alice In Wonderland today. It was good, but there were quite a few times when (unless we were fluent in Gobbledygook [wow...spellcheck didn't bat a letter at that], which we're not), that you couldn't understand a bit. Can't wait for it to come out on video. Buy it and watch it with the closed-captioning on!

Bought some fake nails today. Thinking about putting them on, and then painting them some totally lurid (I so love that word) shade of blue-green. What do you think? And if you tell me I'm too old for weird nail varnish, I'll most likely flip you my blue-green manicured bird. :)

Anyway, I have a question. What's your choice on a new point-n-shoot camera that's not going to break my bankroll? The one we have, while still decent, is horrid at taking pics quickly (it's a Kodak EasyShare; about 7 years old, 2.0 megapixels). Thoughts?

I'm feeling better (think it's probably just the fact that's it's been a fabulous weekend), so if you were sending up prayers for me, it's working.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your cool, calm, and generally collected
Mrs Dreamer

*celebrate good times - come on!*

2010 Book Challenge March Update

LDs, I've reached my original 2010 goal of books to be read! I just picked up three more today at the store, and since I don't have therapy this week except for Monday, I'll be reading up, bitches! :)

41. Andrew Vachss; Dead and Gone (reread)
42. Susan Grant; Your Planet Or Mine? (reread)
43. Rick Riordan; The Lightning Thief (reread)
44. Rick Riordan; The Sea of Monsters (reread)
45. James Patterson; Max
46. Piers Anthony; Chaos Mode
47. Charlaine Harris; Dead To The World
48. James Patterson; 2nd Chance (I know, I need to read the first one as well)
49. Charlaine Harris; Dead As A Doornail
50. Heather Graham; The Presence (woo hoo! met my original goal for the year!)
51. Iris Johansen; The Face Of Deception
52. (in process) Andrew Pyper; Lost Girls

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your favorite bookie,
Mrs Dreamer

Wednesday, March 17, 2010


Sorry, LDs. It's not going to be a WWW today. I just don't feel like being lovey, and we're getting there with Ashley and Andrew.

No, not lovey as in smoochy lovey. Just simple care and family and love. I'm just not feeling it today.

'Tis St. Patrick's Day...and I haven't had corned beef, cabbage, and potatoes in more than two years. It's such a comforting, warm food. Like stew. Or beef veggie soup. I want C,C,P!

I know I'm wandering. Sorry.
"...not all who wander are lost." J.R.R. Tolkien

I'm really tired of being bummed out. It's not good. I don't like it.

Boo. I'm just not into it this evening, LDs. Sorry.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your bummy wanderer
Mrs Dreamer

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Random Tuesday

LDs, I really don't have a fecking clue as to why today's title is 'Random Tuesday.' Could be that there's not going to be much detail in this post. If you ask, though, I'll tell you.

I'm 'in' my new cube. Computer, no phone (damn - lol). Walls, no shelves. Tiny table, no desk. I can't WAIT for my boss to be back tomorrow (insert intense sarcasm here). He has nothing in his office.

Nothing. Well, his Illini rug's in there. We've got to figure out a way to get at least his desk to his office. This should be as much fun as I don't know what.

I vented to Mr Realist this evening about his laziness. "Ok. You pay the bills this week and I'll clean." Um, how does that compare?

No, really. Someone want to help me out on this one?

I got to see the inside of the house that inspired part of Ashley and Andrew's story (read Written Word Wednesdays)...

And was not impressed.

See, I had this picture in my head of how the inside of the house would look.
Front door - good. Open.
Visible hallway - excellent.
Stairs - perfect.
Room to the left - ok, but too different.
Room to the right - dead fecking on. From the windows to the fireplace...even to a couple of chairs!
Hallway down to kitchen - good.
Kitchen - not bad. Led to Carriage House.
CH - pretty close, but in the wrong spot.
Bathroom off the kitchen - close, but wrong spot.
Upstairs - nothing like it (boo).

The worst? Fecking carpeting everywhere but bathrooms and kitchen! ARGH!

House like that should have hardwood floors!!


It actually kind of creeped me out a little bit.

The house in my head is much prettier in layout, so I'll stick with that one. However, the outside is just about perfect, so I'll leave that as is. :)

I soooooooo want to go see Lady GaGa in July in St. Louis.
I lurve her - weirdness and all.

Read an article today about "Mommy Bloggers." Kinda pissed me off, and I'm not a Mommy Blogger. Made it sound like all you wonderful women (and some guys, too!) neglect your children because you're blogging.

Feck the morons. Feck them in their stupid asses.

I had a blast on Saturday at the St. Patrick's Day parade and party in Springfield. Made me wish I was Irish (more than just in spirit).

It got me thinking. Wonder what nationality the SD (sperm donor, for those of you who haven't been around for the entire blog) is?

Googled 'nationality of x.'

I was kind of excited when I found "English, Scottish" behind the last name.

I can't find a fecking tartan for any spelling of it. Damn. Maybe I'll do more research.

It'd be the only good thing he's given me (except me to be here). Assclown.

Was your Tuesday a random one?

Heepwah, and be safe out there

Your confused and plaid-mad
Mrs Dreamer

Monday, March 15, 2010

Bitch and Moan Monday


Ya know, this Bitch & Moan Monday couldn't have come at a better time. Today. Sucked. Balls.

First: I know I shouldn't bitch about work, but this is got to get off my chest.
We're moving. The building that we're currently in is being sold. My new 'office?' Not complete.
No desk.
No walls.
And no computer. (the no walls thing should be remedied tomorrow...and possibly the no computer thing).
This has been a huge clusterfuck from the very beginning. It's not hard to let your employees know exactly when it is that they're moving so that what's necessary isn't haphazardly (I like that word) thrown into a box (like mine is right now). Grrr....

If my husband doesn't get off his fucking ass and start doing something, I'm going to push him off of a fucking cliff!!
I had PT tonight at 5.30.
Get dinner. "I'm really not hungry, honey, so if you don't want to cook, I'll just get a pb&j." WTF??
Dishwasher says 'Clean' and there are still dishes inside.
There's a sinkful of dirty dishes.

Where's Mr Realist?

Playing that stupid fucking video game.

Ya know, I'm not the world's best housewife. I hate to clean. I have scads and stacks of books...everywhere. I am a packrat (it's hereditary. Back off). I want to get rid of things, but I over-analyze and think that I need the shiz when I really don't. There are boxes I haven't looked in since we moved in four years ago!

Anyhoo...that's not why we're here.

Mr Realist is becoming more and more lazy as time goes on.
I'm tired of saying things because it makes me feel like his mother, not his wife.
When I do, he tells me I"m either being overly sensitive, or 'I promise I'll do better, honey."

Can't ply him with The Sex (we're waaaaaay past that point).

I'd really like to just wash my own clothes and dishes, and leave his sitting. Vacuum my side of the bedroom. Dust my stuff. Clean the bathroom and the living room (cause I use them, too).

I'm sick and tired of being the maid.

On a happy note, PT doc says my knee is getting better. I have an appointment with the orthopedist tomorrow morning to see what he says. PT doc thinks he might tell me I can shitcan the brace wearing (unless I'm working out or walking or doing something strenuous). Please let that be real.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your tired, your poor, your huddled
Mrs Dreamer

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Written Word Wednesday

Good evening out there, my LDs. I've updated the March list. Thought I was going strong for March, but that's fizzled quite a bit. I think it has something to do with the weather becoming nice. Don't get me wrong, I'll still make my 100 goal (obviously) by the end of the year. I'm just slowing down. So I'm going to continue on with Ashley and Andrew.

The buildings were tall trees of brick and wood and glass. The team and carriage came to a graceful stop outside of the Hale, Booth, and Sanders building. Daddy is Cole Sanders, one of the best lawyers in the state of Mississippi. He exited the carriage and helped me down. I brushed small wrinkles out of my dress, straightened my bonnet, and took Daddy's arm to walk into the building. Large fans manned by light-skinned quadroons circulated the air and the stone floors helped keep the temperature down. We walked past the receptionist and up the stairs to the second floor to Daddy's office. I sat down in one of his chairs after picking up a paper fan off the corner of his desk. He went over to his safe and opened it. He turned and handed me ten dollars.

"Should this be enough until I find you?"

"Daddy, this will be plenty! I want to find some ribbon and new material for a dress Matty's going to make for me." He nodded, helped me up, and escorted me to the door.

"I'll be here for about an hour, then I'll come over and we'll shop together. I do need new shoes and probably a new shirt or two. I need one for this weekend. Don't want to look shabby, right?" I'd almost forgotten - the Booths were sponsoring a Spring Cotillion this Saturday! I was looking forward to dancing, food, enjoyable conversation, and hopefully a young man to come calling in the future. I quickly kissed Daddy's cheek and swept down the stairs, tucking the fan into my wrist bag. The doorman tipped his hat to me, then rushed to open the door. I gave him a polite 'thank you' and he smiled back. I walked outside into the sunshine and headed left down the block. There was a large dry goods store a few doors down from Daddy's office and it's where I expected to find the perfect dress material. I had some ideas for a patter, and Matty was wonderful at taking my sketches and turning them into wearable creations. I walked through the open front door under a large sign that read, "Stewart's Sundries" and into the store proper. Pleasantly cool and full of the wonderful smells of spices and wood and oil on the first floor, I walked toward the purchasing counter. A petite, older woman was dusting the glass behind the counter and stopped when she heard my footsteps approach.

"Good morning, miss. Is there something I can help you find?"

"The materials are on the second floor, correct?"

"Yes. We've just received several bolts of lighter weight summer materials in lovely pastels."

"Thank you," I replied and headed for the stairs. Ascending, I stepped off of the top step into a large, open-air room with dozens of racks of different materials. There were large wall racks of rolls of unbleached muslin and sheeting and denim. I saw gingham and silk, cotton and canvas, most with colors and patterns to please the eye. I walked around the center islands, searching for the perfect pattern on tarlatane when I heard giggling. There wasn't anyone else but myself on the second floor, and I wasn't afraid. The windows were open, so I assumed there was a back garden where children were playing. I heard the woman downstairs call out, "Catherine's on her way, miss!" Who was Catherine? Just then, I saw a small girl poke her hear round the corner at the top of the stairs. This must be Catherine. I wasn't sure if she saw me or not, because she looked back down the stairs with a huge smile on her face, then took off for the back corner. I hid behind a rack of bolts, wanting to see where she was and what she was doing. I heard a heavier set of footsteps; belonging to a man, I guessed.

"Catherine, what are you doing?" I heard him ask. I wanted to see where he was headed. "Where are you, little one?" By the tone of his voice, I wondered if they were father and daughter. A smile began to creep onto my face, but I didn't want to pop out and scare him or the girl, and the troublemaker in me wanted to see how this would end. "Catherine, come out! Mother's waiting downstairs!" He continued on toward the back of the room. Suddenly, a small hand popped out from under the curtained bottom of the rack I was next to and touched my arm. I gasped, but reached for the hand and helped the girl it was attached to out from under the rack.

She stood up, brushed her dark brown fringe out of her perfect brown eyes, looked straight into mine, and said, "You're beautiful. Andrew will love you eternally." She turned and bolted for the stairs. Who was Andrew? I stood, and was immediately knocked back to the floor. I hit my head, but thanks to the knot of hair, I hadn't hurt myself.

"Oh, Lord, I'm so sorry!" someone exclaimed. I attempted to sit up, but the corset wasn't giving me much room to do so. I opened my eyes to see a young man crouched down next to me. I looked into eyes of cerulean blue and flushed. I had never been so close to a man before in such an intimate way. Dancing, yes, but never like this! He reached out his hand to help me up. I placed my gloved hand in his, and a shock traveled down my arm and settled in my stomach. He helped me to my feet and then attempted to brush my skirts off. I wanted to slap him for bolting into me so rudely, but I didn't want to mar that perfect cheek...of course, if I did slap him, I would be touching him!

"Are you ok, ma'am?" he asked, obviously concerned for my health.
"Oh, I'm fine. Nothing broken, nothing bruised...yet," I responded.
"I am truly sorry. I was just trying to corral my sister Catherine. Why were you hiding?"
"I didn't want to scare you or your sister," I said, secretly relieved that 'Mother' meant exactly that. "I was just trying to stay out of the way."
"I'm Andrew."
"Ashley." The fluttering in my stomach blossomed its way to my heart and became more pronounced.
"I don't recall seeing your face here before. Are you from Hattiesburg?"
"No, but my father works here, and it's our Thursday outing. He works down the street."
"What does he do?"
"He's a lawyer."
"Really? My father is one as well."
"Who is your father?"
"Paul Hale. Yours?"
"Cole Sanders."
"Miss Ashley, it looks as if we have that much in common."

I turned the tables on him. "I don't think I've seen you around here, either."
"Well, I go to school at the university in Alabama. I'm studying law and business," he said, unconsciously straightening up. I smiled.
"Why were you chasing your sister up here?"

"Catherine is...well, she's rambunctious. She loves coming up here and playing in the racks. She often pretends she is a princess in one of the books Mother received for her. We were headed into my--well, our fathers'--office to meet him for lunch, and she bolted past us to come here. She said something about beautiful. I didn't hear the rest, and Mother sent me after her. The woman downstairs is my aunt. She didn't come after Catherine herself--she finds Catherine amusing. She and Mother are sisters." I nodded in understanding. As I was thinking of something else to say, Catherine came up and tugged on Andrew's shirtsleeve.

"Mother says it's time to go," she said, looking up at her brother, then up at me. She smiled. It was slightly unnerving the way she looked at me, like she knew me and what my future held. Andrew reached out for her hand and she took it. Then she reached for mine. "There. Now we're a circle." I didn't quite understand until I looked down at the same time Andrew did and we both realized that he was still holding my hand. Just as quickly, he released his grip, and I knew that we were both blushing by Catherine's giggle. I could feel the heat all the way into my toes. He and Catherine turned to go downstairs, and she looked at him. "See? Princess."

He glanced back at me, and I flushed again. As they walked down the stairs, I heard him whisper, "No. Beautiful."

I almost fainted right then. I took several deep breaths, willing myself not to keel over. My legs felt like waving bulrushes. I turned to the rack and began looking through the materials. This time, I wasn't seeing colors or patterns. I was anticipating the next time that Andrew might 'run into' me.

Heepwah, and be safe out there.

Your writing
Mrs Dreamer

Monday, March 8, 2010

Happy 101 Award

OMG...OMG...LDs, OMG...

*yeah, that's me freaking out*

Mrs. Gamgee over at Hobbit-ish Thoughts and Ramblings has bestoweth on my my first bloggy award!

When you win this award, you have to list ten things that make your day and then list ten blogs worthy of this award. Post a link to the blogs you've nominated, and make sure they know you've nominated them.

*dressed in a glitzy cognac gown, diamonds and pearls at ear, throat, and wrist; Mrs D ascends to the stage*

"I'd like to thank Missus Gamgee for nominating me for this award. I'll try to keep this short and sweet so they don't play me off!

Ten things that make my day:
1. My husband. When I've had a horrible, rotten, no-good day, he always tries to cheer me up. Love you, Mr Realist.
2. Books. I have an addiction, I know. I'm not going through a Twelve-Step Program for this one.
3. Seeing my favorite tie-dyed shirt hanging in the closet, clean and ready to wear.
4. Daisy and Duke (my dogs) first thing in the morning. They always make me smile.
5. Sitting down to a meal with Mr Realist or family or friends or all of the above. Conversation, food, and drink all blending into a harmonious song.
6. My girlfriends - Jessi, Jen, Michelle, Carla, Carrie, Lena (ones I've met). Kisha, Aunt Becky, and Missus Gamgee (ones I want to meet). Elizabeth, Nikki, and Kaz (maybe if I win the lottery, I'll get to meet).
7. Getting email from a friend that's not a lame-ass forward.
8. Getting mail that's not a bill - even if it's just a pretty catalog of shiz I can't afford.
9. Pretty jewelry - real or costume.
10. Getting a good hug from anyone. :)

There are ten people I'd like to nominate in turn for this fabulous award. They are my LDs, my little dreamers. I'm getting to know most of them, and they're all just as awesome as I am. I'd love to renominate Missus Gamgee, but that wouldn't be fair. We have to spread the awesome around.
2. Aunt Becky of Mommy Wants Vodka
3. Em Static at Heart and Hairspray
4. Kristin at Dragondreamer's Lair
5. Lady of the House at Checking the Electrical Box
6. Apryl of AHStudios
7. Dawn at PGoodness
8. MommyGeek of MommyGeekology 2.0
10. Mrs. Chicken of Tales From The Chicken Coop

I read all of these fine ladies, and I've randomly run across some of them through other blogs...sometimes three or four deep! Some are moms, some aren't. But they're all pretty damn funny.

Again, thank you for your kind nomination, and I'll pass along my Torch of Awesomeness!"

*is helped down the stage stairs by her TV husband, David Boreanaz, who kisses her (very naughtily, I might add) before escorting her to her seat.*

Ahhh...that was such a fun awards show. Hope to see you all next year!

Your award-winning
Mrs Dreamer

Bitch and Moan Monday


Hey there, LDs! How are you on this fine Monday? I mean...erm...damn. This is supposed to be Bitch and Moan Monday, not "Let's Be Cheerful on Crack Monday."

Sigh. O well. Here we go.

Ya know, there are some things that I'd like to Bitch about, and some I'd like to Moan about (and not that kind of moaning...that's a later post. Maybe TTPN...he he he).
~Ya know, Mr Realist, would it kill you to start the dishwasher that I filled and the laminated sheet of paper that is magnetically attached to the front of said dishwasher that states the dishes are dirty BEFORE you go watch the sex and blood and full-frontal nudity that is Spartacus? Seriously?
~I'm beginning to think I'm no good at this Pampered Chef thing. Can't get a Show booked to save my life. If everyone would be content doing Catalog Shows? Fan-freaking-tabulous. What do I have to do - whore myself out as 'your personal chef for the evening' or have hubs do a Manpered Chef party (on the grill, of course)...hey...waitaminit...bitch just turned idea!
~I just want to throw everything I own away. I'm tired of looking at it. Of course, the moment the garbageman pulls away, I'll need half of what's in the bags.

~I don't have near enough time to do everything I want (who does?).
~I should be writing (my book, LDs), but I'm not...still processing.
~I would love to hire a housecleaner, but right now, I don't have the extra $100 a month to hire one. Boo.
~I want a solitary vacation. Drive somewhere, stay with friends, but go and do and see whilst they're at work.

Sigh again.

On a positive note, Mr Realist found a book over the weekend that he's actually reading (he hates to read. Think he's only read two actual books cover to cover in his entire life). It's a book of Darwin Awards (and they're good).

Well, since they're not that bitchy/moany, I'll leave you, my little LDs, to find what you want to bitch and moan about.

Your not-so-bitchy
Mrs Dreamer

PS~If anyone has any more ideas to whore my TPC self out, they'd be much appreciated! :)
Mrs D

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Special Sunday

Over the weekend, Jen (good friend) and I participated in the Polar Plunge at Lake Springfield for Special Olympics. We (in addition to other family and friends that weren't able to make it) are Ainsley's Army (note the pink camo shirts on Jen and myself).

Ainsley is Jen's middle child and first daughter (makes Jen sound like the President if I would have capitalized that), and she is an absolute dollface. When she gets older, she'll be able to participate in Special Olympics if she chooses. We're helping keep it running until she gets there.

The day wasn't so bad, temperature-wise.

The water? A balmy less-than-forty-degrees-Fahrenheit.

We were one of the last teams to go due to our small size (just the two of us), but we did get to run with Spongebob Squarepants and Patrick.

Jen and Ainsley and I

Getting ready to take the Plunge.

Run run run...maybe the water won't seem so cold...

O. M. G. It's. So. Cold. It's. So. Cold. (my mantra coming out of the water...)

Jen's face is priceless...and I don't remember what she said to make me laugh like that.
Must have been damn funny.

Notes for next year:
Bring several towels.
Flip flops.
Hand warmers (for the pocketses afterwards).
Jen - don't wear the Crocs or you'll lose them again. :)

They were right (the first few teams) - the water's not really all that bad because your heart's racing and you're moving constantly to get yourself out to the raft (for bragging rights...) and back to the beach without losing fingers or toes or shoes or your plunger (there was a group of guys that had Bloody Marys in new toilet plungers. Plungers...for the Plungers...he he he).

Until the air hits you coming out of the water and you're soaked to the skin in less than forty degree water and all the oxygen in your lungs is sucked out by the air.

When you get out, everything starts shivering and you're trying to make your way up the mud-slippery hill to be able to change into warm dry clothes.

But the bathrooms are standing room only, and no one is in any hurry to leave the warmth.

So you change outside whilst your friend holds your towel as a makeshift curtain in a corner.

And your underwear sticks to your still-wet ass and your toes are turning a pale shade of blue and all you want is a hot toddy (or something) to warm you up.

Until you look around you and see the kids and adults that take part in Special Olympics that you are helping raise money for.

And you realize something.

It was worth it.

"Let me win, but if I cannot win, let me be brave in the attempt."
~Special Olympics Athlete's Oath

For you, Bean.

Your toe-freezing, camo-wearing, Polar-Plunging
Mrs Dreamer

Be safe out there.