Chinese food and fucked up dreams

I was so hungry last night after eating little during the day that I went to the Chinese buffet near my house and ate a painful amount of food. When I got home I had indigestion so bad that I had an awful time getting to sleep, as tired and worn out as I was.

Two very vivid dreams:

The first one had something to do with my having a gorgeous boyfriend and being horribly jealous and possessive of him. That's about all that stuck with me. I'm thinking maybe I couldn't handle remembering more. This may have had some peripheral help from Charlaine Harris's HOT men that she writes for her Sookie Stackhouse series (I finished another one last night before bed). But I think it may have been more about dealing with the complicated tangle of my feelings about Justin. On one hand, I armed myself with a gorgeous boyfriend like his because maybe I just needed to do so, and maybe I was working on my jealousy issues from him having a gorgeous new boyfriend. Dammit, I want a gorgeous new boyfriend. The other part of that in the dream was that said boyfriend brought out the worst in me, and I was fierce and possessive with my affection. In that I think that a) I’m worried that I’m like my father, whose affection is very proprietary and hard to bear up under at times; and b) I’m sure that Justin has probably felt lately that his new boyfriend has brought out the worst in me.

The second dream was much more vivid (it was shorter, and just before I woke up), and stayed with me. For some reason, I was living at home with my Dad and Step-mom again (which would arguably qualify this one as a nightmare, but I digress). I was sitting outside quietly reading at a picnic table in the yard reading, when I looked up to see my father feeding Crooner a saucer of milk on the deck. He didn’t realize I was there. As I watched, he would every so often move the saucer further from the house, and Crooner would obligingly trot further away to keep at the milk. I should tell you that in this dream, Crooner was solid black. He was very thin because he was dying. When Dad realized I was looking at him, he just looked at me and said, “I have to do this. I don’t want him dying in the house.” I was very upset; because of course I wanted him to be able to die at home, especially since he had just gotten settled back in after I moved back in with Dad. I began to cry, and yelled “Don’t you dare stomp at him or get ugly trying to run him off!” An additional element of this dream was guilt that Cindy and Paul really loved Crooner (in the dream), and that I knew they wanted to see him, but that I wouldn’t take him to their house because of the trauma of the car journey and a new place. Cats don’t travel well.

OK, major themes going here.

a) Maybe this dream is about my fear that if I was dying of AIDS, I wouldn’t be able to count on my dad. I know he loves me (see above), and I’m sure if I were dying of something “nice people get” like cancer or something, he would be there for me all the way. But AIDS I don’t know if he could deal with. The emphatic homosexual stigma of the disease would force him to deal with my homosexuality in a very up front way (His glee over my breakup with Michael was fairly palpable. It both returned me to a more juvenile status, and my having a partner was a big ole slap in the face about my being gay. Michael always thought my dad didn’t like him, which he took personally, but in fact I think it was more what Michael stood for than Michael himself that my dad didn’t like.), which he is notably not fond of doing (although he has made strides, I must admit). Also, his new Catholic faith has been notable because of a marked retreat from conventional thinking on many issues (he has announced that he no longer believes in evolution, and is quite verbally anti-abortion, although I admit I didn’t know his views on abortion before the faith change), and his attitude about AIDS has never been particularly enlightened (one comment “I don’t care how many condoms you wear, if you’re swapping spit with them all night, you’re going to get it.”) So honestly, if I had AIDS, I don’t know if he would be able to overcome his own embarrassment (probably) and superstitious fear (seems pretty deep-seated) to be there for me. Since I am dating again, and have met so many HIV positive guys, that is more at the forefront of my mind than usual.

b) This could be me thinking about the Cindy and Paul situation in a different way. I know that Dad and Eve are deeply hurt over not being able to see my nephew Brenden, and Paul has used the excuse that it upsets Brenden to see or talk about them, and they have just gotten him “calmed back down” from the last visit my parents made to Cindy and Paul’s house. The elements are all mixed up, but they’re certainly there.

c) This is my guilt over my fear of hidden racism. I met a guy online recently and we talked and decided to meet. When he showed up at the house, he was black. I wasn’t attracted to him. So I kind of let him know that, and basically charmed him out the door. The guy then sent me an email asking if I didn’t want to see more of him because he is black. I initially felt kind of justified in getting rid of him, because I felt he should have told me that he was black up front. But I didn’t tell him I was white, although he had seen a picture of me. I also usually feel that when it comes to my bed, I have a right to discriminate if I’m not attracted to the guy. I am generally not attracted to black guys. But is this an attraction thing, or is it just deep-seated racism? Having friends who are black, I’m aware, is the usual pap that white people give their conscience so they don’t have to deal with it. I generally don’t think a lot about race a lot in my day-to-day life, but then I guess I have the luxury of not having to think about it since I’m white. I am well aware that how you are perceived very much affects the way you are treated. When I first started carrying a briefcase to work, I dropped off at a restaurant one night on the way home for dinner. I was amazed at how differently I was treated by the staff. Later on, I carried my briefcase to a temp job (mainly because I was used to carrying it, and it had my lunch and a book in it for break time) and was treated very differently by the people I worked with. They thought I was a corporate spy sent by the temp agency or the company to monitor their work, and were very cold to and suspicious of me. The company I was temping for was very impressed with my “professionalism” and wanted to hire me, even though I was doing the same work as everyone else, and probably not in a markedly superior way. Another time I felt this alteration of perception was when I had long hair. On the weekends, when I went out in the morning, I would look pretty scruffy. Long hair, beard, bandanna over my hair, jeans, etc. I began to notice that clerks in stores would be nervous when I went in to buy stuff. If I walked up to an ATM, if a woman was there alone, she would frequently insist that I go first. I realized they were afraid I was going to rob them. I was just flabbergasted. I had always looked so cream cheese and clean-cut that to be casually perceived as a threat was quite shocking to me, but I guess young black men face situations like this all the time. I learned to counteract it by being exceptionally polite. Generally, once someone heard that first deferential “Yes sir” or “Yes ma’am” and realized that I had been “raised right”, they calmed right down. Still, it definitely gave me some food for thought. And apparently I may still be wrestling with discrimination of my own somewhere in the recesses of my psyche.

It was an odd night.

Gentle Reader: I hope all the navel-gazing of late isn’t boring you half to death.

I am just worn out zzzzzzzzzz

Holiday or "Buttons and Bows" 11 1/2" sandwich platter in pink, circa 1947-1949

I woke up at 6am, unbelievably after last night. I was laying there, really knowing I needed more rest, but at the same time knowing if I was going to Clinton today, I had to shift it. So I plodded from the bed and started going through my routine.

I packed up the car, and got out my gallon insulated drink jug/cooler with spout - possibly one of the most useful things I have ever purchased for days out - and headed out. Since I didn't have any tea made, I stopped at Bojangles. $2 for 64oz of tea is a pretty good deal. Of course, filling the cooler, I spilled it all down my shirt, so then I had to go back home and change.

Then I made it to Miss Kat's and it was off to Clinton.

When I came in, Helen was upstairs, so I made much over her. Helen and I have a lot in common. We're both bluntly outspoken, which is at times charming and at times abrasive. It tends to drive as many people away as it entertains. We both worry things over like a dog with a bone. We both have scrappy personalities we show the world, and we both lack the energy to keep that scrap up all the time, and retreat and hide from the world when we can't do it. We're both lonely. We were both in a good mood Saturday and looking forward to the auction, so we were having a fine ole time.

When we got down there, it was a fairly good-sized auction. It looked like the guy had been a collector, and they were just clearing some stuff out in preparation to the wife going into the nursing home. She was out on the deck in her wheelchair as we got there.

There was a 1957 Chevrolet Bel Aire in two-tone aqua and white for sale. At one time, it had been a fierce car, but it was needing a bit of love at this point, although it still had the original upholstery that was in really good shape. I thought that's why so many people were there, because this place was kind of out in the boonies, but I was wrong. It turns out that this guy had spent years collecting arrowheads locally, and he had TONS of them. Some were apparently very valuable. There were a lot of people there to buy them. There was also a "Turtle totem stone", which was kind of like a fetish, and which is apparently very rare. They guy that auctioned it off was from a museum in Columbia, and he said they didn't have one in their collection. He had an absentee bid for $500 to open for it, which I guess was from the museum, but I think someone else bought it for slightly more. I took a good look at it, because if there are $500 rocks laying around, you can bet yours truly wouldn't mind finding a couple. That part was interesting, but watching lot after lot of arrowheads sell when you had no interest in them did get old. I spent my time wishing they would put the little redneck auction helper boy on the block, cause I sure would have bid him up!

I did get some nice pieces though. I got a Buttons and Bows platter for $15. I think that was all the money on it, but I have a special affection for the pattern, since my Granny Brown has a piece of it we have always used for Thanksgiving, and seeing it always makes me think of her. I was a bit worried because it was grimy, but it was the grime of dis-use, not the grime of obscurity sometimes used by flea market people to sell inferior glass. When I soaked all the crap off of it, it was in pretty much perfect condition, and looked as if it had been rarely used.

I also got a Fire King baking dish for $12.50 that was pretty cool. I'm going to have to do some more research on it, I can't find one like it on line. Apparently one size is vastly more valuable than another. After my online research though, I know there are about a billion of the loaf pans left. I found LOTS of them. I can't even find a decent picture of the one I bought today.

I looked at this cool pottery jug to use as an umbrella stand, but decided not to get it. It was in pretty bad shape, and I think I can find something I like better. Plus I wasn't sure it would fit where I wanted it to go.

Miss Kat bought a little ruby and diamond ring, and then was afraid she had paid too much for it. The stones are very small, but I told her if she really likes it, that's all that matters. dana of course bought old bottles. She did get some nice ones today. She bought a flat of blue Ball jars for $5, and there were some valuable ones in there. She told me on the way back that the shine runners used to break that jars marked "13" for fear of bad luck, so they are rare. There was one in the box she bought. She also got a bunch of old medicine bottles that I thought were neat, and some old Coke syrup bottles for pretty cheap, and I know that stuff is worth money.

Helen bought an old pottery churn for $20, which I just couldn't believe, until I saw it up close. It is pretty pitted and chipped up. But still a really cool thing, and has a lot of character for a play-purty, which is all she bought it for.

It got HOT though, and by the time we left, we were ready to get back in the air. Also, we had to wait a long time to check out because they were doing the auction tags manually, rather than on computer.

Still, it was a lot of fun, I got some great stuff, and really enjoyed spending time with Miss Kat, dana, and Helen. What a great day.

***

When I got home, I just collapsed and took a nap, and then read after I woke up until bed time. I guess the heat had really taken it out of me. I was just bushed. I got up eventually to go eat tons of "Chinese" food at the buffet near the house. Just as I finished eating, Russ called to invite me out to dinner with them. Apparently they flew in late Friday night. I thought they didn't get in until tonight. I hated to miss them, but I was tired, and he was jet-lagged, so we agreed just to catch up later this week.

Philbe baking dish by Fire King in sapphire blue, circa 1942-1948. This one is very similar to the one I bought.

A visit with Miss Kat

I called Miss Kat after work, and went on over to see her. I talked to her about what has been going on lately, and we just caught up on each other's lives.

Oddly, when I came in last night, Helen just went downstairs. Now I know Helen likes me. I was just really surprised that she went downstairs without saying boo while I was getting a glass of tea.

Miss Kat and I played cards and just hung out until dana got home, talked to Chase (her elderly and very talkative Shepard), and just generally had a good visit. I just think the world of the two of them. They're going to an auction in Clinton tomorrow, and invited me to go with them. I'm pretty whooped, but if I can get my lazy ass moving tomorrow morning, I'm going with them.

When I got home, I had the munchies so bad that cannibalism seemed a viable solution. So I have devoured pretty much everything in my kitchen cabinets, and am now going to bed.

TGIFF

I just realized, I have two Mrs. Beasley's Chocolate Truffle Cookies in the fridge that I stuck in there last week and forgot about. It's like remembering where you left your buried treasure.

I'm under orders from the doctor not to gain any of the weight back from after the tonsillectomy before the &^%$#@#!! lack of "sleep" study, but I didn't have the heart to tell him I didn't lose an ounce. But I guess two cookies won't make that much difference...

***

In other, less fattening news, I sent in my run fees for the Trident Knights "Plunder the Booty" leather run and 15th anniversary party. I'm kinda stoked about it, and feel a bit naughty already. Russ and Billy are going, which is the main reason why I wanted to go, but it's at The Parliament Resort in Augusta and I haven't been down there but one time. I had a really good time when I was there before though, and made a friend.

Also, the little cafeteria down the road makes creamed potatoes as good as Grandma Shumate's. And I don't say that lightly.

Plus I just always have fun when I go off with Russ and Billy.

TGIF

Ugh. This week has been so draining. Between fussin and trying to recover from last weekend, plus work, I am just exhausted.

Mama is still hopping around on one leg, and says she's fallen twice. She is going to the doctor to get something she can walk on put on her foot next week, thank goodness. She can't go to take care of my grandparents this weekend because she's in such bad shape, but of course she's telling me she doesn't need me down there. I guess that's just as well.

I haven't done any chores this week, so I have plenty to catch up on this weekend. I also have to figure out what to do with those old DirecTV boxes, which have laid all over the house until they are on my nerves. Michael says they are worth money, but I can't imagine a) how I would list them; and b) who would buy them. I think I'll just put them away and focus on laundry and cooking this weekend, and kind of get the house runninng again. I have to go get some more books too. I've read almost everything I have at the house. Although I still have the book Miss Kat loaned me when I had surgery....

I have an email out to them. I may go and see them this weekend. They invited me over for a 4th cookout thing last weekend, but of course I was in Charlotte. I promised Helen I'd get over there this week, and this week will be over pretty soon, so I guess I need to get on over there.

Picking up the reins again

Apparently I have decided to return to the fool's paradise. I'm ending the latest pity party and trying to mend fences with my friend.

I am a smaller person than I would like to be (inside - outside I still have the physique of a shaved penguin - who is retaining water). Of course if my friends are in LOVE I should be happy for them, and supportive, despite the problems I see in the situation. I've spent so much time trying to shore up my sister's disastrous love life through the years, and trying to be supportive of her, that I'm just burnt out on it. I've been cheerleader for the losing team so often that it's hard to stomach. I've held back on so much Truth (as I see it) that it makes me nauseous now. Lisa's self-esteem has always been so fragile that I've tried to build it up, no matter how stupid I thought she was being. And of course, when I finally did say "enough", she pretty much Cast Me Out.

That has been basically the same situation this week. Plus my feelings were hurt. Plus I was feeling pretty damn down. So this friend got it right between the eyes when he tried to dress me down about my "negativity".

I would really, really like to think that I'm not such a bitter old hag that I can't do anything but pop the bubbles of other people in my life, but that's how I feel right now.

It's hard to re-adjust when you think that your romantic life is over. When I was first single again, it felt like an adventure. It isn't. Dating in my 20's was like being a kid in a candy store. Dating in my 40's is like being in a big fridge looking at all the leftovers. It's hard to go from being the romantic lead in your life to being the comic relief. I have been trying. I thought I was doing a fair Eve Arden impersonation, but it seems that I was doing Coco Peru instead. Coco Peru from "Girls Will Be Girls" too.

So I just gotta pick myself up, dust myself off, and start all over again, as the song says. I will be sweet, I will be funny, I will be charming. If it fucking kills me. Because the alternative is that I drive people away. I spend enough time by myself. I'm hoping that it stops feeling like I'm living life in an audition at some point. They say if you smile long enough, you really feel happy. Maybe if I'm sweet, funny, and charming long enough, I'll start feeling that way again.