in which i dream of an enormous mantis (and billy got pants)

seriously. again i slept fitfully but i managed to struggle awake in the morning and for the first time in a long while i wasn't the last one up. but i went back to bed eyes filled with grogginess and did one of those tumble to sleep falls where i the dreams were 3D, hi-tech, HD and what have you.

you know the kind, the kind in which they are so fantastic that your blood pumps with happy and your life seems to be of the most magical kind. where you hum and sing and skip and see impossible things (at least six) that are so magical the only thing to do is BELIEVE. in my case i saw a witch-baby sized mantis land outside the front window. it attached itself to the glass and hung there with its head slowly taking in the scenery. i was inside tippy-tapping away on the laptop (as i am wont to do) and i startle with blood pumping because an insect THAT BIG is SCARY. intrigue sets in along with my love of non-icky bugs and i creep up to the window to investigate. from underneath the mantis is all crisscrossed and veiny much like a fall leaf freed from its branch. the head moves to look at me (as mantis' are prone to do) and i see that the top-front-back (?) of the thing DAZZLES. it is black, black, black with a patchwork of colors scattered about as if it were an appliqued wall piece from somewhere not home. i gasp and hold my breath and grab the closest camera to photograph it all the while it poses with an elegance that brings tears to my peepers.

having taking a zillion-and-a-half photos i run to grab mr. a-go-go or sister a-go-go who are all outside elsewhere not near this majestic being. i run with my hands and arms a-flapping and gather everyone to look and when we round to the front of the house it is not there at least not that we can see and i am gasping and holding my hands up demonstrating the "one that got away" syndrome i hear many a fisherperson experiences. they look at me as if i am quite bonkers and i grab the camera to show them but there are no pictures camping out on the tiny smudged-up screen. with a start i find myself awake, yet not, and thinking oh drats it was only DREAM but then i spy the camera all tilty stashed across the room. i stumble towards it, turn it on and to my delight i spy with my near sighted eyes an magical mystical mantis decked out in rainbow colors camping out on the window in front of the house! i run out of the room and through the house wincing with the knowledge that i am indeed the last one up. no one is to be found until i hear the family a-go-go out in the garden. wheeling in their directions i hear a pathetic howl as i step on the poor witch-baby's tail in my haste which makes my heart race and WAKES ME UP all over again. so confused am i that i simply lay there in the darkened room seriously considering if maybe i was still asleep and in yet another dream.

i am disappointed to confirm that i was indeed not and there was no such magical-mystical mantis rooming out on our window. just a very sandy and very dirty witch-baby returning from her secret hollow in the neighbor's backyard. drats.

can you imagine?

why is is that dreams are busiest at morning?

this morning was one of those magical mornings where sleep wraps its arms in a bear hug around you. where the toastiness of the blanket fort wrapped all about you smothers you in sweet comfort but for the tickled chill on your nose that comes from the wee breeze dancing through the window. it's the kind of morning where the sun gently nudges you awake but your dreams are not yet ready to surrender so you sink back down into a beautiful slumber. even mr. a-go-go found himself dosed with the pixie dream dust or, rather imp dust as his slumber was less a lullaby than mine.

like most dream filled nights, the dreams they flit away once my lashes part to greet the new day. what i can recall is not so sweet my teeth hurt but is comforting and confusing as only a dream can be. at one point i found myself pushing the worn plastic button to call the wonky elevator that lived in the orange stucco box i called home. my strongest memories involve the look, feel, scent and touch of this elevator as i rode it perhaps at least once every day for twelve years of my childhood. in this dream, i stepped in to find it different,more plain, yet i grasp the handle in preparation for the maniacal dream ride that usually ensues. in reality the elevator simply moved up and down with a very distinct song for each inch of the way. i knew its song by heart and could close my eyes once i stepped in, timing them to open with the doors in perfect choreography. but in dreamland, this elevator not only moved up and down but it roll, roll, rolled around and around at the same time causing me to bounce from one edge to the other aching for the doors to open to end the unwanted carnival ride. i am not sure why this is the case but it is. it is a recurring elevator dream of a twisted dance that causes much anxiety in my sleep. no wonder i am wary to step in this time but i do and all proceeds without incident. soon enough i am on the third floor and skipping the skip i did all those many many years ago. the front door opens to the hall i know so well and i hear laughter coming from the living room. stepping through the door as if this were the most ordinary thing, i am welcomed and hugged and greeted by my mother and brother who are in high spirits for there are homemade peanut butter bars to taste and my mother just returned from a lupus rally. with peanut buttery kisses still on my cheek i head to my room to rifle through the chiffarobe that once belonged to my sister in search of the vintage dresses i know are hiding inside. the room is pink like it was when i was eleven or so and while it doesn't really look like it did, it feels the same and i think how good it is to be back home.

and that is all i remember. nothing much yet every good thing for my mother was in my dream, my mother! and i did not do what i usually do when i dream of my mother, i did not remind her that she cannot possibly be in my dream as she is dead (i really do this), instead, i throw myself onto the sofa book ended between two people i love allowing the moment to dance through me, to lift me up and twirl me to the morning that has me sitting here, sharing with you this almost-magical moment while i eat the sweetest red grapes i have ever had instead of wrapping up an article that is due later today.

dreams run amuck

i've always been a dreamer. both in sleeptime adventures and the sort of lackadaisical mayhem that got me trouble in school on a regular basis. i'd say it is a rare occasion when i awake in the morning without memories of my sleeptime adventures. the mister is stupefied by it all. he generally doesn't remember his dreams. last night's dream were hijacked by an invisible remote control as if some other floaty invisible being had control of clicker and wasn't really interested in my quirky psyche.

when i was comfortable and dreaming of an eighties version of myself making a patchwork quilt of candy wrappers while listening to Thomspon Twins i was shoved out of the picture to watch some sort of detective show with guns and chaos and Motorhead.** then i was back in my old room finding that the tiny closet in my chifforobe was a never ending tunnel of vintage. i blissfully started pulling out dress after vintage dress while Poi Dog Pondering whistled in the background only to be abruptly shoved aside for more dark and gloomy shooting but this time it was some sort of rube goldberg machine in a staircase that managed to domino kill at least three "bad guys". all dream night long i was in happy land one moment with pop music, a thinner me and color floating about when suddenly, the next was full of dark and angry men and metal music. couple that with my only slightly asleep state due to the mister having to work in the morning and him telling me of my blanket thieving skills and i can say i'm a bit groggy today. but then again, that could be because it is monday and mondays generally are freebie days where i attempt to wrap my head around the going ons for the week. this week is taking care of doctor visits, a couple of visits with friends, tying up loose crafty ends and packing, packing, packing. phew! already, i am tired!

**i never listened to Thompson Twins in my youth, i listened to far dorkier bands. i have however had stuck in my head an ominous open to an eighties song. it had been stuck there in the noggin for weeks now and all i could sing or remember or share was "oohooh oohooh ow ooh ooh ooh ow".. it was maddening! and all because of mister telling me of the wee a-boy's translation of poopoo head...poopoo-od...he was after all, three at the time. and suddenly i heard this voice singing the ooh-ow thing and i couldn't remember any other part but after too many wasted moments on itunes and then youtube, i found! eureka i found it!

and, as for motorhead...while i did my fair share of listening to metallica, black sabbath and yngwie malmsteem, i did not exactly listen to motorhead which is only slightly odd as i did listen to d.i., agent orange and other loudish punk bands...anyway, motorhead sticks in the noggin because of the young ones (i LOVE the them!) and because my brother and i once spent an evening back in the late eighties making a very inappropriate music mix using kiss the girl as the base and i do believe there was some motorhead in that, along with the dead kennedys and schoolly d. oh, those were the days!

a charley horse, purple chalk and fifteen morning minutes

the mister startled awake last night with a ferocious charley horse. the kind that makes you think maybe one's leg was simply mistaken for stretch armstrong or something. it was startling and it took my heart a while to mellow to a slow dance so i could fall back to sleep. it prolly took him longer. it reminded me that man oh man do i hate leg cramps and it has been a long long time since i have had the pleasure. either way, i'm not sure if it was the stark awakening or maybe the unagi i had for dinner but when i finally fell back to sleep i was in a dark backward kind of dreamland.

there was a steep steep steepy steep driveway i had to walk up to get to the car. as i walked the gravel rolled and giggled under my feet causing me to slip slip all over the place. there was an enormous orange tin sign that belonged to me but somehow got hammered into a brick wall of some fancy pants building i was parked behind. there was falling down stairs and dropping giant plastic baby boots and my cousin as he looked at fourteen running around the place drawing on my brother's shirt with electric purple chalk. there was an indignant cry of the staining chalk and a mad tussle across the parking lot as my brother and cousin attempted to mark each other up to tomorrow and then there was running, me...barefoot across the lot only to find it covered in nest upon nest of army ants and i suddenly forgot how to move my legs so that i could well...move. to cap it all off, i finally got into the car but couldn't get the seat belt to click. the weird part is that it wasn't scary or frightening or anything like that. it just was. like, here we go again.

having dreams like that always makes me extra sleepy so i slept through the 8am call and woke up just shy of 8:40 or so. I got up and immediately rolled over to the window to greet the day.

by the time it was 9am i had greeted the morning, brushed my hair, picked out the remaining bedding for the bed, admired the pillowcase i made, hugged the witch-baby, brewed my morning chai, washed the dishes in the sink, ate breakfast and swept the floor. not a bad way to start the day.

today there will be posts up on goin' with the a-go-gos, dilly-do and here. there will be a tutorial of sorts, a shout out to blanket magazine and a delicious somethin' on the 'do. the bed will get made and portraited the table will get cleaned off, the phonecalls will be returned, the errands ran and then i will put on something fun, pick up the mister and meet some nifty people for a nifty dinner and then a nifty show.

phew! i think i just may already be tired.

last night i dreamt of...

*sock shoppin'
*swarming bees
*hanging out with the gilmore girls
*being late to my junior high
*forgetting where i parked the car
*my mother
*bike riders invading los angeles (yay!)
*filming fireworks on franklin blvd which then turned into victory blvd.
*cartoon transformers in real life
*stealth helicopters
*smacking the forehead of a woman i was mad at who then smacked me right back and all was well...

and finally...

*a series of woodland critters coming into the tiny casa through the bathroom cabinet.

it's no wonder i woke up exhausted but that may be due to the rude awakening of a mad, frenzied, ravetastic catfight outside the bedroom window which led me to make sure the witch-baby was not involved which caused me to look out the kitchen window and see, bright and beautiful venus like i have never seen it before which had me standing there semi-nekkid in my kitchen stargazing at 4am. i keep forgetting to look up into the sky at night. all this light pollution has taken so much away and yet i love the stars. i love the moon. i love the act of gazing upon them and i forget to. i grow lazy with the night and get caught up in books, reading and the mister. seeing venus and being startled by it reminds me to look up more, to look outward and to cradle that marvelous view. if you do anything tonight, make sure it is to look up and greet that black blanket of sky.

dreaming a-go-go

I was detained from joining the land of the awake this morning by luscious vintage linens and sweet cool air. Those two ingredients generously mixed with unpaved water flume pathways, hand sewn quilts and cotton candy so pink I wouldn't be surprised if you told me I was on acid, kept me in dreamland long enough to make for a super groggy day. I spent most of the night tossing and turning and pulling the vintage floral sheet off of the mister. Once he finally stumbled into the real world, I gathered up the happy yellow quilt, tucked my smooshable hippo under my left arm and fell into the rabbit hole. My dreams were to extraordinarily vivid, I could smell the popcorn at the summer carnival and the wet pavement near the flume pathways. The story made complete sense while it played out. From the carnival rides that spun beneath picture perfect skies, the old friends and make-believe friends that joined me throughout the dream. to the absurd like the fluffy feathery hen that stood about three feet tall that acted as a guard hen to its flock and our cobblestoned street that kissed the tiny porches of our red and white gingerbread cottage complex. There was music and laughter and games and fisticuffs over the winning and not winning of technicolor vinyl doll houses.

It was a block party of where we would live if we could truly live anywhere and in anyway. We had a garden, a workshop, a cuter than cute cottage. There were wonderfully artsy neighbors, tiny hole in the wall pie palaces and chatty chickens all around. Not a car in sight but candy colored beach cruisers peppered the pathways. There were buckets of flowers and sidewalk chalk at every junction. Art was everywhere as were smiles and laughter. We had a swimming hole, and a tin-can telephone and a pygmy goat named Bernadette. It was a magical, handcrafted, bauble filled place. Not to get all creepy on you but I hope I get to visit again!

Photobooth Friday: I know you are but what am I?

I seem to have Pee-Wee on my mind. Many years ago when I joined Nervousness.org I frantically tried acquiring Pee-Wee portraits for my wall. I had quite a few artists and swaps lined up but only one turned out to follow through and she created this wonderful big eyed Pee-Wee with a lobster claw and tail. Creepy and perfect for me. A few years before that I purchased a Pee-Wee portrait painted on an old film tin. And that was it until I started swapping thru flickr. The loverly Lilia created this bit of glittery goodness and the super duper nifty Barbara created cupcake toppers for me. Eeps! I lurve Pee-Wee! And Christine, creator of kitsch, painter of chickens & robots and wearer of squishy spikey caps created the fabulous fauxtobooth strip you see here. Sigh. I'm so feeling the lurve right now. So much so that I am now having the amazingly talented Christel who painted this for Mr.A-go-go's Christmas gift paint me a Pee-Wee. Yeah, you could say I have Pee-Wee on the brain.

I dreamt of super niftiness early this morning. The kind of niftiness that is so normal and yet really crazy and fabulous that when you do finally wake up you can't but help feel disappointed. It may not seem fabulous to you but I found myself in my teenage neighborhood and on my way to my present school when I found an old vintage poster of some sort of fabulous elephanty circus fun and when I went to pick it up I found a pile of oodles and bits and in that pile there were old photobooth strips of my family I never knew existed and an orange sweater vest with a knitted purple lobster all across the back and tchotchkes galore. Sure I was crawling around a filthy pile of junk and mud and who knows what but there were old photobooth strips and vintage clothes that FIT me and green mary janes and vintage children's books with clowns in them. When I was done searching I had to get everything into the car but first I had to take out the toilet paper that my brother picked up and the package was huger than huge like some sort of super duper size and I felt like a magician who pulls the never endng scarf out of his hat only I was tug, tug, tugging away at the largest bulk pack of toilet paper in the world! Then I thought to myself how I could use one of the strips I found for Photobooth Friday and then I realized that is was Friday and I didnt have class on Friday and then I woke up to the Witch-Baby's cold nose on my neck. The reality of reality sunk in and I felt like the seven year old me who dreamt about finding a Hello Kitty rack of goodness in the livingroom only to find a snoring sleeping brother on the floor when she woke up. Man, sometimes I have the best dreams.

Today I get to play at Tinker and I know you are all jealous. I'm also crave, crave, craving some sort of baked goodness but cannot decide if I shall do the baking or if I will attempt to hunt down something in a cake shop or not. Either way, I'll take pictures of course!

Happy Friday folks and Happy day before the BIG DAY to you Ms. Magpie! May it be as exciting as finding a purple and orange sweater vest on the side of the road. I wish you and the sweets a most fabulous of fabulousness. *mwah*