Java, filter set to "random"

This must be the trick to actually writing a blog post, rather than just thinking about what you'll say in a blog post: when first you connect to the interwebs, do not open ANY other windows. Just the blogger "new post" window. That's all. Whatever you do, don't open email or facebork or Pinterest.

OMG Pinterest. It's a deep winding rabbit hole.

Why does habit have one "b" when rabbit has two?

So I went to the grocery store this morning. Well, it seemed like morning to me, but I didn't get my lazy ass out of bed until 11:00 so there you go. There's a new Mal-Wart on our side of town. I may have mentioned it before, I don't know. It's closer, and cleaner. Being new and all.

And guess who I ran into at Mal-Wart!? Mrs. Betty B! I haven't seen her in a few years, not since we stopped going to church about nine years ago. She said we should come visit the church, and I asked "Even if I'm apostate?" She smiled at me and said "Oh heavens! Why would you say that?" I just smiled. I saw her property on the map the other day and thought of her, wondered if she was even still alive. She's been old as long as I've known her (20 years, approximately) but she's still going strong, living independently, going to church. She's a sweet thing. I told her honestly that I love her.

I've been somewhat reclusive recently. If I have to go out for an appointment or something, I go. And while I'm out I might run another errand or two. Otherwise I stay home. This morning I got dressed and since I was dressed anyway I went to the store. We were out of bread. And sour cream. And, evidently, Little Debbie Nutty Bars, because they followed me home.

And Cheerios. I got the store brand of oat loops or whatever they're called from Aldi recently. They don't taste like real Cheerios. I've gotten the honey nut cereal, and the Aldi brand is OK, but has lots of sugar and I'm trying to cut back. (Pay no attention to the Nutty Bars behind the curtain.) So there I was in the cereal aisle (my but that's an odd word) looking for genuine General Mills Cheerios like Grandma used to make serve. Used to be you could walk down the cereal aisle and causally pick up the yellow box that says "Cheerios". Now there are at least half a dozen (I didn't count) different kinds of Cheerios. Even chocolate ones! Now I love chocolate, as you should know by now, but chocolate Cheerios seems mighty close to an abomination to me. Multi-grain are pretty good, actually, and of course there's the honey nut. I can't remember what other flavors I saw. Not counting the store brand and other brand oat Os. Goodness. Thankfully the original plain Cheerios still come in the familiar yellow box.

Mrs. Betty B asked after the family, of course. " So-and-so asked after ______" is a common southernism. Do y'all say it that way up North? Yes, we're doing well. Superman still works where he has since we moved here, Light is in Pennsylvania finishing her graduate degree. Twitch is at the local Arby's. Diva moved to be with her birth mother, which is a good thing (I hasten to tell her). Poor ol' Sproing has made some poor decisions and is awaiting trail at the county jail. Oh, poor Mrs. Betty B got so concerned. I hated to worry her so. Though she didn't say so, I'm pretty sure she'll pray for us. She's a sweet old thing, and I'm happy to have run into her.

Last weekend we visited the in-laws. It didn't even hurt too much. Actually, I behaved myself admirably. Everyone had other things to talk about and I'm good at the "smile and nod" thing. I can even ask pertinent questions sometimes. At one point the mil scolded Superman and gave him advice about Twitch. That was uncomfortable for both of us (probably not mil, though). I knat a little bit, starting a slouch hat/beanie thing. We saw the nieces, too. They are charming. The youngest one (in her first year of college) has potential to be a very interesting person. With her mother sitting beside her and in the presence of the grands, we were restricted to "polite" conversation.

I'll tell you something funny. My sister-in-law... well, she's a nice lady with many fine qualities. Very morally upright. She came in the house when I was in the back somewhere. She stood by the kitchen table, and when I came up the hall I saw her there, in high heeled boots (modest, mind you) and her hair all big like usual, makeup in top order. She's lost some weight so her midsection is nicely proportioned. She still has a considerable bust, which her fashionable clothing accentuated. With my glasses still on order I wore my contacts, which I'm not as accustomed to. My sil looked for all the world like a drag queen standing there in the kitchen. Oh but it was hard not to laugh! And of course I couldn't say anything about it, not in that company.

As I said, I've been reclusive recently. That means I've been in my room most of the time, reading books or being sucked down the interweb tube. Oh, and watching a little bit of the baseball playoff games. I am happy the Cubs won the National League Central Division title. Other than that, not much.

I watched the movie Boulevard, starring Robin Williams. I didn't know before I watched it, but it is an LGBT themed story. Bit of a tragic story, very well done. A serious role for Mr. Williams. He did those well. I mourn his passing. I just rented Night at the Museum - Secret of the Tomb, mainly to see him again.

And that's all I know.

Homophobic nightmare

I had a nightmare of homophobic spiritual abuse. I woke up tense, gasping, like I had been running.

It involved the step-brother I grew up with. I say it this way because our parents are no longer married. He now lives in Vancouver. He came out about a dozen years ago, and is married to his partner (husband, duh) there in Canada. They've been married for a while now. I can't remember exactly when the wedding was. It was not too long after he came out to the family, but they had been together for a while by then, I think. No matter…

The dream setting was a large old church building, specifically the classroom areas. It was a weekday, but there was a lot of activity in the building. People of all ages were very busy doing stuff. I was there with some friends (I have no idea who these people were) and I was waiting for my step-mother to show up. She and her girlfriend were driving in from Vancouver. To the southeast US. Non-stop. My (former) step-mother is not a lesbian, and is in her early 70s now. But in my dream she was in her mid 50s and had a lesbian partner who was 30 something.

It was a surprise to me that her son Charlie (that's her gay son's name) was coming with her. The three of them finally arrived in town in two separate cars. I was with Superman and we were all busy with something, a project that was going on. Vague. So the gays show up at the church looking for me. I wanted to drive back to Vancouver with them, and was trying to figure out how to convince Superman that this was a good idea. There was some sewing involved, too. Like I needed to go with them so I could help sew something in Vancouver. They don't have any seamstresses in Vancouver? Dreams are strange.

Well, surprisingly Superman thought it was a good idea for me to help them drive back to Canada. In either a huge camper-van or a tiny boxy yellow car. Both were available. Very strange. No matter. I was trying to find everything I needed to pack for the trip. It was all stored in various classrooms in the church building. Very disorganized, very cluttered. A lot like my life. And the lesbians got into a nasty catfight.

This being a church, there were some preachers there. One was the minister of the congregation, and one was another preacher who was working to build another church. The other guy had a lot of church stuff stored in the building, and we kept coming across all their stuff while looking for mine. A lot of it was children's craft and art projects. Cute, sentimental, but basically trash. Charlie wanted to throw it all away and I was trying to get him to leave it alone and help me look for my stuff. The lesbians were no help at all. (Sorry ladies. This is a dream, remember, and no reflection on you personally. Trust me!)

My step-mother and her girlfriend finally took off toward home in the big van. That left me and Charlie in the small yellow car. We were about to get in the car when the preachers called Charlie over. Not wanting to be rude or make waves, he went to see what they wanted. Well, they "captured" him and took him into the worship area. They made him kneel down and began to pray loudly over him and preach fire and brimstone at him. There were the two preachers and at least two other men, maybe three, who were prominent members of the church. They surrounded Charlie and were all breathing "holy" fire down on him. I could see them. I was sitting in the little yellow car (don't know what the significance of the color is, but it seemed important at the time) wondering what I could do. These guys were whipped up into a religious fervor and I was afraid to get close to them. I felt horrible for Charlie! One of the reasons he had come with his mother was to get away from home for a while because he had some emotional crap he was trying to deal with. So the poor guy was already emotionally fragile.

I was afraid if I tried to physically intervene I would be restrained and make matters worse. I was also afraid of getting the same treatment. These men knew me as a solid Christian, meaning of course that I believed as they do. Under that guise I had some "stealth" advantages. I could have possibly gone into the group, pretended to join them, and take Charlie away. But that would be rough, because they knew I was Charlie's friend. I began to try to move out of the car, and all of a sudden another one of the men of the church was right there with me, to prevent me from intervening. He started talking to me as if I were "in sin" because of my association with Charlie. He'd been put there to watch me, make sure I didn't try to interrupt. Just that part pissed me off, but then he started to molest me! He was running his hands over my arms, then my sides and hips, then trying to rub my breasts. The hypocritical asshole!!! I was livid, but too weak to make any physical attempt to escape.

At some point I made it into the room where they had Charlie. The poor guy was an emotional basket case! I felt so helpless, and guilty that I hadn't done more to protect him.

This room was not the worship sanctuary, but very large and empty of furnishings. Maybe a social hall? Whatever. I got to Charlie, took his hand, and we began to run away. There were a lot of people in the room, milling around, many with no sense of purpose. Some were for us, some were ag'in' us. Some tried to block our progress and some were chasing after us. And we were moving v-e-r-y—s-l-o-w-l-y, the way dreams are sometimes. I could see the exit but couldn't run fast enough. Charlie was right with me, also not running fast enough. Except his tears. They were running down his cheeks just fine.

Do dreams ever do this to you? You get to this point in the dream and never progress until finally you just wake up? It seemed like this attempted escape took as long as the entire rest of the dream. When I woke up I still had that negative emotional energy in my head. It felt very wrong. I felt such guilt, such remorse for not intervening to protect him.

Sunday, late

I tried to get my head together to write an essay of sorts on the church/faith/religion theme. Didn't happen, and now it is incredibly late for someone who has to get up at 4:15.



I went to church this morning, to the Episcopal church at the south end of downtown. It was a lovely service. I pretty much enjoyed it, though for some reason I was shaky and emotionally fragile. Today is the first Sunday in Advent, and Advent is one of my favorite church seasons. The songs were good, the worship was meaningful.



When I was crossing the parking lot on the way back to my truck I stepped on a small rock, lost my balance, and fell down. It was a graceful fall, as falls go. I scraped my leg a little bit, not badly. There were a few other people walking near me, and they rushed over to see if I was OK. And amazingly enough I was OK! The fall wasn't a bad one, nor was the scrape. But more significantly I wasn't upset about falling. Especially since I was feeling emotionally delicate one would think that would set me off. But it didn't, thankfully. I'm human, I'm clumsy, and I fell. No big deal.



Lots of activity going on in the house today. The boys, S and C, are getting their new room ready. We switching bedrooms, with the boys moving to the front room (what should be a formal living room) and Diva and Sproing leaving that room and moving to the end of the hall in the bedroom S and C have had. Superman will (hopefully before too long) put up a dividing wall thing in that bedroom for Sproing and Diva to have separate and private spaces. This is a needful thing and should have happened a while ago.

I have more to say about other stuff, but am closing down for to get to bed!

Remind me

I have a thing or two I want to say about church
*going vs not going
*hypocrisy
*faith vs. religion

And I have a thing or two to say about coming out as a straight ally to my old friends who don't know what I've been up to recently.

These things are on my mind, but tonight my mind is too tired and dizzy and fuzzy and mushy to form coherent thoughts. Obviously.

Love you all, my dear readers.
good night