I had the strangest dream last night, kind of a nightmare, but so real. Not full of monsters. I always say real life is scarier than any imaginary ghosts or monsters anyway.
But my dream: Apparently P and I had robbed a bank, in a white-collar way, and got caught (because who gets away with it?) (and it was a DREAM; I have never even imagined robbing a bank). But we were on our way to being sentenced and I was thinking, but wait, we’re having a wedding — but no, no wedding. But the kids — but no, by the time we’d get out, the kids would be grown up, would have grown up in foster care. We had three year sentences; somehow I was asked if I wanted three years with a private bathroom or two years in the general populace. I couldn’t decide. I wanted to get out of jail and get back to my life. (NB — when I told P about this in the morning, he said, “sorry, hon, I’m taking the private bathroom. See you in three years.”) And then because the kids were gone, it was like there was nothing left to live for, we were ruined, they’d be ruined, and I decided that I needed to start pretending headaches so I could save up aspirin in jail and then take them all and kill myself.
Then I woke up.
Disturbing? Uh, hecka. What does it all mean? Stress, definitely. Lots to do. Worries about if the kids are OK. Worry that “something” will happen to prevent the wedding from taking place. Probably stuff like that on a subconscious level. And maybe I really was thinking about robbing a bank. Just maybe…
So weird and disconcerting to wake up after strange dreams. It’s all real, it’s all fading, it made sense but now it doesn’t. It’s a blur, with sharp images that won’t go away.
Good thing it was time to get up, make lunches for my man and daughters, put on the kettle for coffee, and do the morning chores (water the plants, feed critters, pick up crapola left out by lazy kids, fold up the couch blankies and brush crumbs off tables…and more, so much more).
Today I had lunch with wonderful friend Nick Pappadoppolous (not his real name) who laughed in all the right places and told me funny stories about potty-training with his 2-year-old and talked about his new baby girl. We had sushi and teriyaki and lots of other good Japanese food and caught up — much needed. Then I went to Farmstead Cheese at The Marketplace and tasted several cheeses for our wedding repast, and brought some home to taste with Patrick. I love cheese — yum. I tasted some delicious goudas and some goat cheeses, and I think we’re going to end up with a huge wheel of Brie, plus some English cheddar and some bleu cheez, too. Jeff at Farmstead is a doll and he’s ordering up some fabu cracker breads to go with the cheeses. I [heart] U, Jeff. (his real name)
Wednesday I had a lovely meeting with Kiyoko (her real name), at Serene Seeds Designs, who is doing our flowers. She has an elegant Japanese sensibility and the girls’ bouquets look like ikebana — very spare, elegant Japanese floral arrangements. She is doing some lovely things with hydrangeas and white and hot pink gerbera daisies, like single stems of gerbera daisies for the flower girl and various others. The hydrangeas and some gerberas will be whitish green and very full, lush bouquets, hand-tied with ribbon streamers. (Sorry to bore you, boy-readers, but the girl-readers wanna know.) Hydrangeas are a very sweet, old-fashioned garden flower, and gerberas are like big cartoon daisies, happy and cheerful. These are like Patrick and me — a mix of the two of us. Put them together with some dendrobium orchids — in the leis some of us are wearing — and we’ve just given it a tropical twist (tiki time, anyone?).
Friends, start praying for a warm day — not hot, but clear and not too windy. The wind kicks off the Estuary and chills us here, but a warm day, just for a couple of hours, would be my fondest hope for the day. Aug 11…..warm, no wind…..om….om…
What else? Cupcakes for wedding cake (kid-friendly is the watchword of the day). Locally grown organic grapes and strawberries and Ghirardelli chocolate and Spanish cava and the ever-popular punch fountain…what could be finer? I want to thank my dear friend Gil Michaels (not his real name), famous food writer, for concocting a special wedding menu for us.
My lady friends from my women’s group are coming to set up and usher and help people with whatever they need. Love my women friends! Watch for the helpful women in pretty dresses handing out tissues and programs.
Still looking for the elusive Irish band. Waiting for callbacks, etc. And we have one more round of shopping for dresses and shoes before calling it quits for the bridesmaids (our daughters). I already have dresses for them, but, and I quote them, “wah.” So we’re gonna try again, and they know that they have to agree on something else or it’s back to the other ones.
Oh Lord, how did this become wedding drivel, out of my scary dream? I don’t know. Maybe it’s the dream-come-true aspect of a wedding — that it is real, not a dream. Scary or not, it’s the best thing that could happen to us — to wash away the past and come up sweet and new and happy at long last — ever after.
It is Friday, just after 5:00 and time for a cocktail…except much later. I’m heading out now to photograph the concert at Crab Cove and then go to the men’s softball game at upper Washington Park. Game is 8:10, then Scobie’s after. See you there?