Dream of Mother

A little snatch of dream. Mother was in it. She was slender, fit. I was young myself, a kid, maybe around ten years old. We were in the kitchen. She was making pork chops. I was a little excited by that. I always liked her pork chop dinners. But she said she is not making any for me. I whined, “You’re not making me any?” She shook her head and said no. Funny, it didn’t look like a good batch anyway; the meat appeared burned, blackish. I was still upset at the injustice of it all.

Pop has had a package of pork chops in the refrigerator all week. He had meant to make some for himself at one point, but kept putting it off, perhaps not feeling up to the work, and then deciding to save it for Kay’s visit. I imagine those pork chops helped provoke the dream.

I am at a loss what to make of the dream. It is little enough that I could have skipped it and let it go, but it has been a long time since I have dreamed of mother, and I can remember her so clearly from the dream, looking at her and talking to her. She looked good. But why was she mean to me?

Wednesday Morning

A rainy morning. Pretty. A sweet calmness. It has been a very light, intermittent rain, and we are likely to get more today, or so it appears. Having the cats inside, I can relax and enjoy it.

Elvis 1954

“Now, Red, look after my boy, just look after my boy.”

-- Gladys Presley

Red relates one of the wilder incidences at a club outside Lubbock, Texas called the Rio Palmisle. “In Texas they do things in a big way, let me tell you. That night, it was lucky we all didn’t get killed.”

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Ted Danson

Wow, an elderly Ted Danson. Won't someone just shoot me, instead of subjecting me to this death by a thousand cuts?

I'm on Amazon Prime, trying the HBO series "Bored to Death". This first episode actually aired a few years ago, in 2009. A quick Internet search: he is 66 years old today, and his net worth is stated at 60 million dollars. Not bad.