Cleaning out the brain, Tuesday Edition October 16, 2007

I am off work today (Fall Break) and cleaning the whole house. I lost my momentum after cleaning the stainless steel fridge and trash can and started wondering why it is I want to replace my white dishwasher, stove, and microwave with stainless steel. Those pint-sized fingerprints are stubborn little boogers.

When I clean, I blast the music (today, Scrubs soundtrack) and think random, meaningless thoughts. In the interest of procrastination (taking a 20 minute break), here are some for you:

I’m getting my hair highlighted by a real hairdresser for the first time ever today at 2:30. I hope I don’t look like a skunk. I love highlights on other people. I also love skinny jeans with heels on other people. They make me look like a lumpy “Before I took Magical Diet Pill” photo.

Velour tracksuit = not an outfit. Seriously. Those are pajamas. You may not shop in them, especially if you are just looking to expand your velour color selection.

Words on the butt of your sweatpants = not cool. We actually had to add this to the dress code violations at the ELEMENTARY school where I work. At no age is this a good thing.

I can’t remember the last time I was in the house without Baby Girl (she’s at Mother’s Day Out). Very quiet and strange. Although, I just put up some toys and they are still right where I put them. That part is nice.

We watched “Knocked Up” last night. Very funny, though I felt the strong urge to curse like a sailor for a long while afterward. My husband is the only man I know who would watch that kind of movie (designed to show the comedic pitfalls associated with getting drunk, pregnant, etc.) and turn to me to talk about how sweet it would be to have a newborn right now. He was all googly-eyed over the ultrasound scenes, which I thought was hilarious. I reminded him that, actually, our friendly health insurance provider is in charge of that particular decision for now (waiting period for maternity coverage), so he can drool and dream all he wants. Then I moved to the couch across the room, just in case he could get me pregnant by the mere power of suggestion. Hey–unless we want to finance a (very expensive, likely) birth out-of-pocket, I’m not taking any chances!

Okay, I’ve had to stop a few times to answer my phone (neither calls for me: one for Monique, and one caller who did not speak English), so my time is up. I am off to clean more. Oh, joy.

I will try very hard to be thankful that I have so many rooms to clean and such nice things to put away/scrub/dust/clean. Really, I will.

Dream Interpretation/Calling Band Geeks October 8, 2007

I put zero stock in the meaning of dreams, but I thought it would be hilarious to see what you guys have to say about this…

Does everyone have some version of this dream or is it just me? I guess I am trying to determine if the WHHS band experience both provided some of my best memories and warped me for life. I suspect the answer is yes. I am more than a little disturbed that band (and the associated pressure) is buried so deeply in my psyche that I am still dreaming about it repeatedly 10 years later. I have some version of this dream at least once a week.

This is one of those dreams where things that are totally absurd make complete sense during the  dream , so here goes…
I have graduated from high school, but I decide to come back “just one time” to play a show at  Friday night football game. Never mind that I have graduated, don’t know the music, don’t know the marching patterns, etc. etc. The people in the band with me are a mixture of people I don’t know and those people I was in marching band with over my five years, so apparently others come back for this “just one time,” too. I know, I know. Then, I arrive at the game only to find that I am missing some crucial thing I need (white shoes, any shoes at all, my uniform, my clarinet, PART of my clarinet…). Other times I can’t find the park at all, and I am wandering around White House (usually on foot) trying to find the band. Contrary to the real-life experience, no one yells at me–and I don’t cry. I am just incredibly nervous and stressed about whatever is missing, and then I usually wake up. Sometimes Mac and Kinney are the directors, sometimes not. I’ll decline to mention who is the stand-in director. Kirby, Joseph, and Tommy Still are always running the uniform room, which I don’t think they ever did together in real life. Oh, and we are always in the old band room at the high school.

Okay. I’ll add more details if I think of them. Every detail I remember makes me sound stranger. Bring it on.