After a brief respite, the weird dreams are back, and boy are they having a good time invading my sleep!

Last night’s episode involved a new way of getting dates.  It seems that if you wanted a date, you put a pair of shoes out.  The kind of date you wanted was determined by the kind of shoes you put out.  Of course, I was skeptical, but went along with the plan and put a pair out, just in case.  Darned if the silliness didn’t work, as I found myself jumping up and down like a teenager at having my first date in years. The topic isn’t entirely surprising as it’s been on my mind a bit lately, but the execution was certainly extraordinary.  One of the women in the dream couldn’t decide what kind of date she wanted, so she put out two different pairs of shoes.  I’m not really sure what she got!   As if it isn’t hard enough to figure men out in the first place, now in addition to dating rules, there were now shoe rules!  Just give me my sandals or a pair of slip on flats and I’m happy.  I don’t need any of these funky Manoli Choos.  (sounds like a sneeze to me!)  I might really stretch it and put on a pair of espadrilles on occasion, but every time I try to put on heels, my feet whine so loudly that I have to give in or suffer the painful consequences!  And another thing, when I buy shoes, clothes, whatever, I’d rather not have to ask for a translator just to find the line I’m looking for (Yikes!  Mrs. Dix would be horrified at the frequency with which I seem to be ending sentences with prepositions today!)

As my dreams always do, this one  jumped around and at one point, I found myself dancing “Drifter” at Borderline.  At first, the guy I was dancing with was holding my arms in a way that made it awkward to do the steps, but then he started pulling me closer and we found our rhythm.  Meanwhile, there were raw asparagus spears on the dance floor, and between negotiating the moves and trying not to step on our partners’ toes, we had to avoid the asparagus too!  And yes, I woke up wondering what the significance of the asparagus was! 

As I mentioned last night, I think the time has come to find a writer’s group, but how does one go about finding not only a group, but the RIGHT group? What actually constitutes the right group anyway?  The one thing I have learned is that I have nothing in common with screen writers.  They are truly in a class of their own.  But is that true of novelists?  Does each genre have it’s own quirks?  Can they all play in the sandbox together or do romance writers need a separate sandbox from mystery writers who cannot peacefully coexist with writers of horror stories or science fiction/fantasy?  I fear I am the stereotypical neophyte, destined to stumble and bumble and either amuse or enrage everyone I stumble over in my quest for knowledge!   And once found, will the group’s members really encourage someone who, in all honesty, is little more than a blogger these days, to join their ranks?  Can I make enough of a contribution to make my presence worth their while?  Sure, I’ve read voraciously for years, but to be on the other side of the camera, so to speak is a whole different ball game.  And really, as I don’t even take myself seriously, can I reasonably expect someone else to?  Would they run away screaming if I introduced myself like this:  “Hello, my name is Sheri.  Two horses walked into a bar….”?   Or better yet:  “Hi, I’m Sheri.  I was raised by the Queen of Guilt.  So tell me, how does that make you feel?”

Granted, the blogging, itself, is no small feat!  I’ve certainly blogged somewhere close to 100,000 words in the last couple of years, but, as I’ve found out myself, it’s nothing like sitting down and writing a book with a plot, dialogue, conflict, resolution and an ending.  The real question is, can I actually stay on the same topic that long?  Most of the time, lately, my writing resembles Ricochet Rabbit on speed, bouncing from topic to topic with no real direction or destination in mind!  Which brings up another point.  If I can manage to give birth to a novel, will I bear up under the constructive criticism of my baby’s form and content?  Heaven knows I waged battle often enough for my human children, even when I shouldn’t have!  What am I likely to do with something into which I’ve put my heart, soul and guts?

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I managed to stuff the weekend’s purchases into my much larger, week in DC suitcase, but had to unzip the expansion part of it to squeeze everything in.  That doesn’t include some larger items which are hidden elsewhere (not that anyone lives here to search things out, but the kids have keys and are in and out of my place all the time!) nor the growing stack of boxes in my storage room.  Not to mention orders from Amazon, Kohl’s and Body Shop which have yet to arrive.  But I got the bills paid tonight so tomorrow will be free for wrapping and laundry.  First job when I get off work tomorrow will be to drag the wrapping stuff out of the storage room, put the dutch oven away for another year and try, vainly as usual, to convince Dylan that he does not need to eat the bows off of the packages, especially not while I’m trying to put them on in the first place!  That cat really needs therapy for his ribbon fetish!

First up will be to select those items which will be distributed as Chanukah presents so they can be wrapped appropriately.  Heather’s isn’t a problem but I have so many choices with Mathom!

Here it is, Tuesday, and I just discovered that I forgot to complete and post this entry!  I guess my brain was otherwise occupied, but I was certain I went into my office last night and completed the entry!    The mind is a terrible thing to waste!

My gratitudes are:

1. I am grateful for  a house full of stress relieving kitties.
2. I am grateful for our family traditions and for how Mathom is adopting and improving upon them.
3. I am grateful for a healthy sense of humor.
4. I am grateful that I don’t take much seriously any more, but find the silliness factor quite easily.
5. I am grateful that most of my shopping is done.

Love and light.

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