More Random Things

I need to come up with a better title for when I have these posts that are conglomerations of several thoughts....

Do you think "Kath & Kim" deserves to be on the air? I'm not sure. It has it's occasionally funny moments but the main characters are really unlikeable. I love Molly Shannon and Selma Blair but not this show. The season finale was on last night and I don't really care if it comes back or not. I only watch it because it's wedged between "My Name is Earl" and "The Office" (which is probably why most people watch it.) I'm going to check out episodes of the original Australian version to see if it's any funnier. But if it's cancelled I won't cry.

I had some strange dreams last night. In one, which took place in that hard-to-identify-because-it's-a-dream time period of 'war' (my clothes screamed 1930's but WWII was later than that, but again, it's hard to criticise a dream for being anachronistic) I was held in Imperialist China as a POW and forced to work as a courtesan for Chinese and foreign dignitaries. I used my position to spy for 'our' side (again, not sure who that is but since I was clearly a good guy then I was spying for the good guys, right?). I had grown jaded and bitter and no longer cared for my own life or safety, which the guards knew and they then used my fellow POW's as leverage to keep me in line. An American official tried to convince me to escape but I knew they would kill my friend Lily who was still innocent and naive. That's where I woke up. But in the dream I could sing and got to wear these incredible gowns while I sang for the men.

In the other dream I was in a wedding (see how this darn wedding is even permeating my sleep?!?) which took place at the airport. But for some reason the wedding party went through security while the guests were on the other side, so that when we finished the ceremony the wedding party had to go all the way around the airport to get back to the guests for the reception. (Because you can't just turn around at security, at least not in my dream.) I agree, it's a strange and demented dream.

I love Ross. We took The Graminator there to look for dresses for the wedding activities. We found two dresses that were just right. One is a bold patterned black and green that she fell in love with that she can wear to the shower and rehearsal dinner. The other is a cream colored with large pink flowers and green leaves in a muted pattern that is so perfect for the wedding I can hardly believe it. If I said to you, "picture a dress for a grandmother of the groom at a spring outdoor wedding", I swear you would picture this exact dress. And the total for both dresses? Forty dollars. My mom got a great little khaki shirtwaist for less than twelve bucks and also got two framed prints that will hopefully go with the new decor in the living room. I didn't find anything so I'll have to go shopping another day.

Jacques Pepin is amazing. Did you know he used to work at Howard Johnson's? I got his book "More Fast Food My Way" at the library and it has some really neat recipes. I made one last night that was a pan fried fish coated with, get this, french fried onions. Yup, those ones in a can that you put on top of green bean casserole. I have always been opposed to the canned fried onion but I had to try Jacques' recipe. You grind the onions in a food processor and use the 'crumbs' to coat the fish fillets. I added a bit of fresh bread crumbs because the onions were a bit, well, greasy. But it turned out delicious. Light and onion-y but not overwhelmingly so and nicely crisp even though you just pan fry them (they could easily be baked too.) I served them with Pepin potatoes, which is a Rachel Ray recipe based on one from Jacques' childhood. You basically steam little baby potatoes in chicken broth then once the broth is absorbed you smush the potatoes just a bit (you aren't mashing them, just flattening them a little) and then let them crisp in the pan. They are so yummy, you can't imagine but you have to cook them longer than her recipe calls for. (You can get her recipe on the Food Network website.) I also made some jalapeno tartar sauce to top the fish and green beans on the side. Even The Graminator cleaned her plate.

Speaking of Food Network, did you know that Guy Fieri (host of "Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives" and star of those annoying TGI Friday's commercials) went to UNLV? He graduated a few years ahead of me, which I didn't know until I got his cookbook at the library. One of the 'dives' in his book is the Four Kegs bar that's about two minutes from my house and we have been going there forever (seriously, I went there with my Girl Scout troop for cryin' out loud.) He reminisces about going there during college to watch sports games and eat stromboli. The stomboli there is good and the Kegs is pretty famous for it, but we go there for what my friend Chan coined as "grease-fest". We order the chicken fingers, fried mushrooms, stuffed jalapenos and Cajun fries. Yes, you need to bring your own defibrillator, especially when you order extra ranch to go with it all. The Cajun fries are awesome, they are actually just fries that they douse with the hot wing sauce and you need to turn your head when they first come to the table or the vinegar and hot sauce smell could knock you out. But once you dig in, you will be addicted. They haven't remodeled the place in, well, ever. They redid the outside about ten years ago and we were excited to go in and see what they did inside. We went and...nothing. Same worn Formica tables and old carpeting. They serve your food in baskets with Styrofoam plates and cheap (but metal) silverware. The waitresses have been there since the Earth's crust cooled. But the draft beer is served in these chilled goblets that make the beer so wonderful in the hot summertime. We haven't done 'grease-fest' in a long time because the place isn't all that wheelchair friendly for The Graminator, so I miss it. And I like Guy Fieri just a tiny bit more now (but he can still work a nerve with his over-the-top style.)

Okay, enough ramblings for now. Have a great weekend Loyal Readers. Hopefully next week you will find more insightful commentary on this blog (but I wouldn't count on it!)

Do You Dream In Movie Mode?

This post is about dreams. No, not "I dream of being a successful writer" but the actual REM sleep cycle type dreams. Everybody dreams, even though I know lots of people who say they don't. You have to dream to survive. It's actually a highly active brain time and dreams are a part of that.

I'm a lucid dreamer, meaning that many times I know when I'm dreaming and can control the outcome of the dream. I've done this ever since I was a kid and thought that everyone was like that until I got older and found out that it's actually uncommon. And most of my dreams (whether lucid or not) are "movie" dreams or story dreams, if you will. That means the dream has a beginning, a middle and an end and follows a story line, even if the story is kind of convoluted sometimes. But most of the time my dreams are really like little mini-movies in my head that star me.

Take last nights dream. I dreamed I was helping a friend (one I haven't seen or spoken to in several years) move to a very little house in a very rural setting (think cornfield in Mayberry). For a small town, the townspeople weren't overly friendly and one of them, "Hank" (who lived in the small farmhouse on the adjoining property) was downright hostile to me. This former friend (whom I shall call "Lizzy" to protect her true identity) had met up with a group of unsavory people and brought them back to the house to party. I just wanted to be left alone to sleep and was mad because they were making such a racket and they had used all of the bottled water I brought and I was thirsty. This house was really tiny, just one bedroom really and there were about thirty people in the house and surrounding yard. I really wanted a drink of water and as I poured the very last of the bottle into my glass, some random girl topped the glass of with what appeared to be Scotch. I was angry but so thirsty that I drank it anyway (Don't ask why I didn't just drink tap water, it was a dream and sometimes things just don't make sense.) I started to feel sick and there was so much loud noise and commotion that I just wanted to go in the bathroom and throw up and go back to bed but the bathroom was occupied and my bedroom had been taken over. I was feeling terrible, really dizzy and nauseous and I wanted away from all the loud, scary people so I walked to the nearest farmhouse, which was where "Hank" lived.

Now I have to say that "Hank", for all his open hostility towards me and "Lizzy", was really good looking. I mean really, really good looking. Think tanned from working outdoors, muscled from all that farm work, think no shirt because it's hot outside, all the typical farm boy stereotypes. We had only met a few times in town at the store or diner and as I said, he wasn't very friendly. He seemed to resent the 'city girls' who were invading his precious territory. Now trust me when I say that neither "Lizzy" nor I are exactly Paris Hilton and while I will admit that I know nothing about milking cows or tilling fields, I'm not completely clueless. I was pretty resentful of "Hank's" know-it-all superiority yet got the feeling that there was something else there. I suspected that "Hank" was more than he seemed and even thought he might be interested in me (here is where we know it's a dream, people. Even in the remote unlikelihood that some guy is interested in me, I NEVER have a clue when that's the case. I'm oblivious until someone points it out to me later, which really makes me mad because by then it's too late to do anything about it.)

Okay, so I stumble through the cornfields (yes, I know that's a bad idea, I saw "Children of the Corn") to "Hank's" house where he is awake (who wouldn't be with the biker gang party going on in the cornfield next door, I think at this point a death metal band had shown up and was playing). "Hank" was actually nice to me (which was good because I was really sick at this point) and concerned when I explained that I had gotten ill really quickly after drinking the Scotch/water. He made me throw up (always attractive, don't cha think?) and then put me to bed (no, don't go there yet) in a small bedroom on the first floor. I went to sleep right away and only woke up when my cell phone rang. It was "Lizzy", calling to say that she had driven with someone to buy some more alcohol and her car had caught fire and could I please come get her. I was still woozy at this point and was trying to figure out exactly where she was when some man came on the line and told me 'never mind' and hung up. I fell back into a deep sleep and woke up the next morning with sunlight streaming in the window.

When I woke up, "Hank" was nowhere to be found. I looked around the first floor and then went upstairs to check out the second floor. The bedrooms there faced towards the other farmhouses in the area. It was a good view actually and I was surprised that none of the bedrooms seemed to be in use, except for one room that was locked. A peek through the keyhole (hey, old farmhouse, of course there was a giant keyhole) revealed what appeared to be surveillance equipment. Why would a farmer need expensive surveillance equipment and why would he sleep in a tiny room on the first floor when there were several large bedrooms upstairs? I went back downstairs. "Hank" returned just a few minutes later with fresh made doughnuts and hot coffee from the diner in town. (in my dreams apparently I'm not allergic to caffeine). I confronted "Hank" with what I had discovered. He was angry with me for snooping and asked me why I was still there if I thought he was doing something wrong. I told him that even though there was some suspicious stuff going on that I didn't quite understand yet, deep down I felt like I could trust him and that I knew he wouldn't hurt me. He was a bit incredulous at my trust in him when he had been so hostile to me before and I told him it was because when he was being mean to me he always shifted his eyes to the left (a known lying signal) and when he was nice to me he looked me right in the eyes. He was shocked and then (okay guys, sorry, here is when the romance writer in me takes over the dream for a minute) grabs me in his arms and lays down a magnificent kiss. Which I return just as passionately (hey, I ain't dumb, if I can get some, I'll take it). This wild make out session leads to us heading to the little bedroom where I tell him he has to tell me his real name before we make love. (okay, I'm blushing just a bit as I write this, so forgive me, alright?) Again, he's shocked. Why don't I think "Hank" is his real name? Because, I tell him, he is obviously undercover - my guess is DEA or FBI or even possibly ATF - and that he wouldn't use his real name during the investigation. And I refuse to have sex with someone if I don't know their real name. (Apparently I have standards, even in dream land. Not high standards since I don't ask his LAST name, but standards none the less.) He tells me his name is Marcus and we...well, cut to a picture of a fireplace like in the 1960's movies. I can't write the details in my blog, after all this was a, er, um, personal experience, even if it was just a dream.

Okay, after, well, you know, we have breakfast (although it's now afternoon) where I show off my cooking skills by making a huge country style meal. I learn that he is DEA and he has been investigating a huge crystal meth operation in the area. The house "Lizzy" bought was one that had been used to cook meth and some of the 'gang' at the party were part of it too. This made me uneasy and I relayed the weird phone call I had gotten during the night. Marcus said he would check it out and I insisted on going with him (plus I needed fresh clothes although he loaned me a clean t-shirt.) We went to the house, which was trashed, including my car which had the tires slashed and windows broken. I quickly changed clothes and grabbed some stuff to take with me to Marcus' house. There was no sign of "Lizzy" and no answer on her cell when I tried. We asked around town but no one seems to have seen her. We even check out the disreputable bar where she had supposedly gone to buy more booze the night before. Our reception there is chilly and we don't stay long. We do snoop around there a bit and find "Lizzy's" car, hidden under a tarp in a junk heap out back. It had been burned.

Now it's getting dark and we head back to Marcus' farmhouse, where he lets his superiors know that something is going down and "Lizzy" is missing. They tell him they will send support tomorrow and use the information he has already gathered to make arrests. As night begins we hear noises at "Lizzy's" house. We go to the second floor to get a better look and see that there is a lot of activity. Marcus calls for backup as some of the 'gang' heads towards us. Marcus asks me if I know how to use a gun. I tell him that I may be a city girl but my dad taught me to shoot practically before I could walk (this is true, my father was a gun collector and enthusiast. We spent most weekends of my teenage years in the mountains around Las Vegas at black powder shoots where men dress like Grizzly Adams and shoot Civil War and Old West era guns. Yeah, that was fun for a teenage girl, I mean, who wants to hang out at the mall with her friends when she can watch men shoot guns in an area where there are no toilets.) He hands me a gun and an extra clip of ammunition and settles me in a crouch in the corner of the little bedroom and tells me to shoot anyone who comes in who isn't him. He heads to the front of the house and I can hear all kinds of chaos and gunfire. A huge man enters and I shoot him square in the chest. (it wasn't bloody, more like cartoonish) Another man enters and I try to shoot but the gun jams. He is laughing at me and about to shoot me when I cock the gun again and shoot him. I realize the action in the gun is what's jamming so I have to cock it twice to fire (I don't know that this would happen in real life, I'd have to ask my brother who is my resident expert in all things gun related).

Okay, this is where I woke up. Sorry if it was just getting exciting. I can't control everything. My mom says I need to write and ending so we know where "Lizzy" is and how we escape. I might just do that. But back to my original question...do you dream like that? Or am I a psychopath? Not only to I dream like this pretty much every night but I can remember the majority of them as well. I can still recall dreams I had ten or twenty years ago. I admit to a pretty vivid imagination (I could tell you some of the stories my Barbie dolls had to endure, they were soap opera like in their scope and story line.) So I just wondered if anyone else out there has dreams like mine. When you dream, what do you dream about?

Have a nice weekend...and Sweet Dreams!