Snapdragons

We used to have snapdragons in our garden when I was growing up in McLean. My dad would snap them on my our little fingers (my sister and I). That has ab-so-lutely nothing to do with anything….FREE ASSOCIATION….

I only have 2 more weeks and then I’m in Virginia. I can’t wait to see my family. My nephew grows so much between my visits that I hardly recognize him. He’s amazing. I love that kid/man so much. He loves all the manly things and he also likes the arts. He's just very interesting and he’s like my son without responsibility. Gotta love it.

I think I’m going to be scared to drive the new Mercedes around, but I guess I’ll get used to it. I’m so mean to cars these days since I’ve grown accustomed to driving either leased or rented vehicles. I hope I can go back to being “normal”. Slaps says, “Oh no! You can’t have a Mercedes… not the way you drive! What about speeeeeed bumps?” I’ll adjust. Really I will. Anyhoo, I want to take my mother to the mountains for a few days and I need something comfortable for my butt (refer to following paragraph).

I had a stomach flu this week and I have been staying home a lot. It made me very tired. It felt like little men jumping on my intestines. Nothing says, “I love you” more than a stool sample (so I told the lab tech). I guess she’d heard that one before (or something very similar). Go figure. I thought that they might find Alien in there or something, but nothing so dramatic (only gold flakes and rose petals): Just a little upset tummy and fever. Yes, I am accepting flowers – thanks for thinking of me.

My 27 year old is back. He is such a nice guy. I like him. He’s my boy toy. You’re only as old as the man that you feel and all that. Tee hee. I call him “Chivas”. I promised to call him more often. I am so bad about that. I should call the people I like more often. Bad, bad, bad Desert Girl!

I managed to meet some mens this week. Don’t ask me how; it has all been kind of a haze. I like the ones who follow me until I relent; the thrill of the chase – yada yada. I met 5 mens; and would only venture to go out with one of them. He’s very sweet and kind of shy (and has OMG sexy shoulders. I LOVE sexy shoulders.) and unfortunately, left immediately to the Emirates for 20 days. By the time he gets back, I’ll be gone, and alas - so probably will be the magic. The other 4 are kindof metsometz: One is too pushy; one is too crazy (although I might check him out more thoroughly because he actually has a good job/ambition); one has a voice that is way too high; and one hardly speaks at all. I know, Purgy, my expectations are way too high. So phuckin what? I can be choosy, right?

The most fun I’ve had this week with a man was my dream about the uber-rich guy who was in love with me and we were walking through our uber-beautiful new home/mansion, complete with garden and fountain and French doors painted in silver and curtains in a dusty rose chiffon. The mansion faced the mansion of friends of ours across the street…. WAKE UP!!!!!

And then I had a dream about The Man and how he was living on the 5th floor of a 7 storey building facing the sea. SHE was cooking lunch in the kitchen and had lost a lot of weight and the kids were happy to see me. The Man always looks at me and smiles in my dreams and then walks away. WTF??

Anyhoo, lunch smelled good! I love that I can smell things in my dreams. Sometimes I can feel things too – like cold and wet. Sometimes I have traveling dreams where I go to places I’ve never been before and I know where everything is. I always wake up after traveling dreams very tired. Are other people like me? 7 is supposed to be good in dreams. So are new homes and the sea and silver.

I went to a fun birthday gathering over the weekend. I thought it was for my friends’ birthday – it turned out to be her husbands. Oops. I’m an idiot. Their birthdays are only 10 days apart. Anyhooo, I got her/them gifts that could potentially cross-over to both genders; coffee mugs and bath items (only they were wrapped in pink). Yeah, that’ll work. Git er done. Think a big guy working for the Ministry of Interior likes pink? Fer sure. Well, there were a lot of intellectual types there and I was hoping that The Romanian wouldn’t be bored with the group. As it was, everyone had a great time. While Romanian was out of the room having a cigarette on the balcony (for a very long time, come to think of it, with my friends’ husband….hmmmm), during a lull in the conversation, I told the group that The Romanian is a former porn star. Discussion continued after some laughter. About an hour later, one of the most intelligent in the group walked over to The Romanian and flatly said, “So, you are a porn star?” I thought I would die giggling. She said that she felt like she was a little kid caught by the principal. He hee. Of course she really isn’t (she’s not). Noooo, no pole dancing in her history. No lap dances. No videos on Romanian latenight TV… Not her.

Slapperella just called me from Indonesia to tell me that she had discovered that I’d changed her bluetooth name to “Bigbutt4u”. It has only been 3 weeks! Why do people let me borrow their phones?

My Egyptian friend, Mona (I SO miss her reading my coffee cups in the morning!), explained that the reason why the birds are flying into my apartment and signing on my windowsill early in the morning is because they want something from me. Ok, so I got some Trill birdfood and a birdbath and started feeding them. My favorite bird, an adolescent mina bird, comes and sings songs for me right around wake-up time (ok, “hit the snooze button and turn over” time) on my bedroom windowsill. At least the mina works for food. The damn fat pigeons are pissing me off. They scare off the smaller birds; the mina, the doves, the sparrows; and they actually fight each other like cock fights to get at the food. They are all the size of small roaster chickens and don’t need the food. I can tell. Bastard rat-birds from Hell. Now, if I don’t feed the damn things; they all sit out there making a racket and tapping on my windows until I do feed them. (“Hey! Hey! Yo! Wake up and get us some damn Trill!”) I can’t win. Sometimes it is hard being Doctora Doolittle.

For all of you who read my comments on the last post, sorry for the tirade. I don’t believe I have ever received such a comment from anyone before in the history of this blog, so I went a little overboard. Que cera cera. Johnny crack corn … and all that.

And now… I shall continue on my PATH OF FUN (enlightenment/discovery/adventure).