Summer Stories of My Dreams

Tomorrow, from 11am - 1:30pm, the phone may ring, the dog may bark, my stomach may growl, but I vow not to respond. Close the blinds, move the clutter out of my line of vision, put a new ink cartridge in the printer and gather the summer notebooks. The poems and stories scrawled therein will come forth. It's time to type 'em up and take a good look because, actually, they are haunting me.

I dreamt of the gnarly scrub pines of Cape Cod. "Finish me," the tallest pine whispers, reminding me of the quiet hour spent pondering his nightmarish shape and the abundance of life at home in his old, weathered arms. "Finish my story," he calls again. "You knew I was trying to find the words", I acknowledged in my dream voice. This goes on, and, being that it's a dream, the conversation becomes more than ridiculous - it becomes ridiculouser.

The stories want to get out of the Harriet the Spy composition book I carried around all summer. Their days will probably play out as a document in a folder titled, 'Writing', but they'll have a title and legibility. That's all I can promise. So, please, no more whining in my sleep; I'll let you out tomorrow!

Cheap? Who, Me?

The wedding is on my mind. I will not be one of those mothers. Repeat. I will not be the mother that only talks about her daughter's wedding. So, anyway, my generous beloved hubby has told all out of town relatives that we will pay for their hotel rooms. They will need rooms for two nights. We will require 18 rooms. ALL of our relatives are out of state.

People often put up the relatives on couches, cots, tents, and the kids rooms. This is a fact. I've slept on the floor, on an airmattress that was flat by 3:30 am. I've also slept on a sleep sofa that is actually a metal frame. The mattress thing is merely candycoating, so I'll think I'm getting the good bed.

The closeness and camaraderie that can develop from an extended family sleepover, is precious and I want in! But, if morning shows my body with the indent of a bedframe embedded in my back, not to be filled in again until lunch, then get me out of there and bye bye camaraderie.

Hotel Rooms are a good investment. Closeness and friendship are better forged after a goodnights rest. Oh, and families with kids get rooms in hotels with indoor pools.

No Chicken Dance, I Promise

How I would love to attend an old fashioned country wedding. No caterers or DJ's are invited to this shindig! For days, exquisite aromas from the kitchens tantalize and heighten anticipation of the celebrating to come. Violins, are tuned , and accordions dusted. The Bride fusses at her hair, her dress, her mother. The Groom is keeping busy, anything to assuage the alternating nerves, the slow passage of time, and the explicit taunting from his older brothers, for the honeymoon to come.

The Epcot Center's French Pavillion features a beautiful film about the country and its' people. Impressed by the traditional, country wedding upon which we eavesdropped from our comfy theatre seats, I warmed to the simplicity and joy of their celebration, which would last for days.

We have a family wedding coming - fast. The bride is 2,000 miles away and I, the mother of this beautiful bride-to-be, want to celebrate the beginning of the eternal union of my daughter and new son with days of dancing, abundance of good food, and all the relatives - close and distant.

They will be anxious to get back to college for the new semester and the bride does not like to dance, so we nix the dancing and limit the days of celebrating. What remains is the good food and close relatives.

My heritage is not one of quiet celebrations, but a new day is here. A new challenge. I can do this. Do you think we could sneak just one "Hokey-Pokey?"