You want the good news or the bad news first?
Last night I had the strangest dream. I sailed away to China in a little row boat to find ya, and you said you had to get your laundry clean. Just kidding. That’s a line from an awesomely awful song from the ’80s. Two points to whoever can name it.
I did have a weird dream last night though. And the night before. My dreams have become more vivid and strange as I’ve gotten older and I’m not exactly sure what that means for my psyche, but it makes for some interesting 2 a.m. conversations with my husband.
Still in a fog, I mumble to him: “Dude. I just had the weirdest dream. I was eating brunch with a group of girlfriends, when all of a sudden we got news from neighbors that a nuclear holocaust was about to destroy the entire world. So we got in our cars and drove to the place we were told would be the safest.”
“Where was it?” He leaned in, completely captivated by the story created in my subconscious mind. (This is a total fabrication. He didn’t ask me where the holding place was. He was too invested in Sports Center.)
“It was I-Hop.” I said. The safe place was I-Hop. (Side note: Did y’all know they put pancake batter in their omelets to make them more fluffy? That’s fucking gross.)
The night before that I dreamed I was in a rocket ship, headed for space with a large group of drag queens. We were mid-atmosphere when I got slapped across the face for accidentally calling someone her birth-name of Clarence instead of her chosen stage name, Clarice.
I’m not really sure what the point of me telling you my dreams is. Frankly, I’m lacking in material which is why I haven’t blogged in a month. So when opening up this page I thought to myself, who wouldn’t want to hear about pancakes and drag queens? So now that we’re reacquainted, I guess I’ll just give a brief, albeit convoluted update on what’s been happening this summer, a few recent thoughts, and some moderately insightful observations about life in general. Hold onto your hats, kittens. This is going to be the most interesting thing you read in the next three minutes. (This is total fabrication. You will probably leave this page to read an article about gross things restaurants do to make your food look better. By the way, did you know that when they photograph ice cream for TV they’re really using two big scoops of butter?).
* I am currently writing this post from my little backyard in Queens, my personal oasis. I am wearing a 10-year-old nightgown, eyeglasses and a towel on my head. There is a little Italian man staring at me from his back patio. I wave hello. It is a nice morning. I love this backyard so very much, and am using it as much as I possibly can this summer because…
*The house we rent is for sale. Arrrrrrrrghhhhh. People have come by to look at it, and some have expressed at least moderate interest in buying it. This was something we figured would eventually happen, and it’s weird that it’s occurring in the same year we feel closest to leaving this nest and buying our own. We would *like” to buy something by the end of this year, but now we are really feeling the pressure to have our ducks in a row and our dollars in a large green pile.
One night a few weeks ago, the realtor showed the house to an inspector. The next few nights were sleepless for me, which is unusual and rare (don’t hate–congratulate). By that Sunday I had a full-on panic meltdown and bawled my eyes out. I released a big bulk of the tension, and I’ve slept like a baby ever since. (Therapist’s note–just let it go. Cry it out already.)
Hence, this has become the summer of saving. No traveling on deck, less eating out, more buckling down. I even added an extra day at work. Time to get serious! Our big, dreamy goal at present is to buy a two-family home in our current neighborhood of Astoria, and rent out the second apartment to help pay down the mortgage. All phalanges crossed that we come closer to becoming home owners/landlords by the end of 2014. All we need is a few more tens of thousands of dollars so we can buy a house in poor repair that costs quite a bit more than half a mil. (This is not a fabrication. It’s fucking gross.)
*I spent my birthday on a picnic blanket in Central Park with a great group of friends. It was a sublimely wonderful day, and not just because people showered me with cupcakes, donuts and fried chicken. I was in my favorite place with my favorite people, and that’s a special way to usher in a new year of life. I love my friends. Such good humans.
* After seven summers of fruitfulness, this winter was officially too brutal for the backyard fig tree. This is what it usually looks like by late July…
This is what it looks like on this first day of July this year:
If that’s not symbolic for what’s most likely our last summer in this apartment, I don’t know what is! The grapes have turned to raisins and the tree’s turned into a scenery piece for a Tim Burton flick.
* I have REALLY gotten back into cooking lately. I go through phases where I simply can’t be bothered with fussy dinners, and then I go through periods when I want to create elaborate, interesting and special meals. I’m in the latter phase right now, and have started a new summer tradition where I’m opening up my home to local friends every Wednesday night for dinner. Here was the first installation.
* Our toilet seat is busted for the second time in six months. Every time I sit down, I have to hold onto the wall to prevent myself from falling into the bowl. It’s an awkward warning to hand out to visitors:
“Hey guys, feel free to use our toilet…just follow these instructions. Ladies–pretend you’re on a boogie board and try to find your balance. Fellas–just take the whole seat off, place gently on the floor and replace when your mission is complete.”
*I became an auntie to TWO separate sets of twins!! Crazy, right? They are tiny and adorable and both sets have the coolest parents in the world. Lucky kids, very lucky auntie and uncle.
* In hindsight, I recognize that my birthday balloons looks like a huge set of boobs.
I opened in an awkward place so I might as well end in one.