Getting here was the absolute worst. The hubby and I got a little cocky about how much time it would take to get to the airport. So we woke up, worked out, finished packing and got in the car to get to the airport with about 55 minutes b4 the flight. Well… Thanks to a misguiding sky cap, we ended up waiting on a “trouble ticket” line for 40 min (there goes my flight) and had to spend an additional 110 dollars to secure a seat on the next flight out which was a full 6 hours later. After I threw a mental tantrum, I recomposed myself to the notion that now I’d be able to complete all that I’d run out of time to do: manicure / pedicure; shop for white shoes; get my toiletries etc. All the while spending more time with the hubby

So we began towards the city, feeling resolved and comforted that there was a silver lining to all of this. As we waited our turn to pay the toll at the entrance of the Midtown tunnel, an airport transportation van that was directly in front of us fancied himself wanting to just…. Back up. Fast. And onto the bumper and hood of my car. We honked and yelled and couldn’t understand what the hell he was thinking but there we were – in the midsts of a car accident. Luckily, about 6 police officers at the gate were our witnesses so we’re totally not at fault. But it cost us another hour or so to detain the guy (um, yeah, cause he was going to drive away) and write up the report. We still kept a light heart. We got to the city where I luxuriated in my long overdue mani pedi then went shopping for white shoes and a carryon bag to pack add’l items in. By the tinme we were done, it was 1:30. Next flight was at 6, but we flew out anyways. I didn’t want to take any chances. Got to the airport around 2 and checked in and cooled my heels till the flight which left on time, was uneventful and quiet.

Upon arriving at St. Louis, I got a cab and traveled to my hotel. The cabbie was wonderfully pleasant and reminded me of Daddy. He gushed proudly about his two boys who are graduating – one from high school and one from college. He was from a country right in the area of Darfur and was making his life and living with his family in the Lou.

Got to the hotel and sought out my chapter. They were hanging out and cutting it up as I expected which put me at ease. The next day was the first plenary and I was ready.

Now… The post about Boule and all the happenings won’t take place publicly on my blog. All I can and will say is that based on the events of this conference I can submit with all assurance that 1) I will NEVER, as long as it’s in my power, miss another conference. 2) if I can help it – I’ll always be a voting delegate. 3) the happenings in session were worth every penny of the 1600+ dollars it took to get me there (not including the shopping it took to get me looking the part). No one could have EVER narrated with sufficient detail and emotion all that took place over this past week. Worth. Every. Penny.

Unlike past conferences, the prevailing feeling for me in the beginning was lonliness. I spent a LOT of time on my own. I ate breakfast alone every morning. Lunches were usually the same with the exception of a few instances. I remember conference time being very busy with visits and hang outs and suite parties hosted by me and sights to see and folks to visit. But… This one was so quiet. The only people that shook up the alone feeling for me were Sharon and her total willingness to drop everything and cool out with me upon request and an impromtu visit from Tiff who hung out with me and we chatted for hours, then danced and strolled at some parties and then hung out till the wee hours of the morning talking some more, drinking cocktails and eating bad food. In a big way, any other time I had to spend alone didn’t feel so bad after that. Yet again, leave it to my original team mates and true heart sisters to unexpectedly and even unintentionally save my sense of sisterhood and closeness. Thanks, Tiff and Sharon

Well, I’m on the flight home now and I cannot wait. I miss my hubby and his skin. I miss NY water and how it doesn’t completely irritate me. I miss knowing where I want to go and getting there of my own volition. I miss the ability to identify crazy in my own home town (cause crazy does NOT look the same everywhere). I miss my mommy and her pictures so I can stop thinking that BAM resembles her and agonizing over that. I’ve not been so homesick in so long and I really hope I have a while before feeling this way again.

*

Baby Making

Seems to be the first thing folks ask me about these days so it’ll be the first thing I get out of the way. It seems that we are on-ramping for cycle 1 of the IVF treatments. They (the fertility clinic) currently has me taking 2 different types of heavy duty antibiotics to clear my system out from any harmful crap that might delay od derail the baby making; a horrid iron pill that repeats on me throughout the day with the most unpleasantness but is necessary because I’m anemic and my hemoglobin is way low; and finally birth control. Right – because they want my ovaries to rest. Remember when they taught us how birth control worked and what it’s purpose was ORIGINALLY? It prevented pregnancy because it tricked your body into believing that it already released an egg… Therefore, you didn’t actually release one. In the next few weeks they are going to pump me full of untold amounts of chemicals to get my ovaries to OVER produce eggs so they can extract a bunch of good ones for fertilization. So, the ovaries are being given a little 2 week vacay before that. So this cocktail of chems is swirling about my system, disturbing my natural systems – sleepless nights, no appetite , exhaustion and making me particularly moody. Those of you who know me know I barely take an aspirin for a headache. So this all is a touch unusual. All for the greater good I hope.

Earl and I were struck with an untoldl amt of giddy euphoria after the Dr.’s appointment last Saturday. He, because he read the beginning of us taking the meds and scheduling future appointments as the beginning of us making my family. Me, because when the Dr. looked at my ovaries on the sonogram he said “they look good”. A year ago when Dr. K looked at the same ovaries, he said “you’re a lucky woman that your right ovary is still functioning. Because the left on is almost completely destroyed.”. What a difference a year makes. He promised me he’d reconstruct my ovaries and do “plastic surgery” on my uterus. He’s definitely kept both promises. So we go for the apt to begin the Lupron (which I haven’t figured out what that does in the grand scheme of IVF yet – i know what it was for when I was researching options to shrink my fibroids) in 2 full weeks from today. I am speaking and breathing positivity and possibility into my dreams despite my overwhelming desire to be “realistic” (read: brace for the worst).

Work and the Pursuit of Progress

Work. Yep. Necessary evil. I regularly wish that in my next life I’ll emerge independently wealthy. A few bright lights have gone on in the long tunnel of recession. There are rumblings of our company going private (again). But it may actually happen this time. The company has begun matching our 401K contributions again and – oh yeah – I got a promotion . I am now a Director in the digital space over all three properties and they gave me a pinch more money. It’s not enough for me to be like – ooh, let’s buy a house, but it replenishes a touch of what’s been taken from us over the years. So I guess good things. I’m still looking to expand and improve the Victoria brand, so more me-controlled progress soon to come.

Sorority Life (not the fb game)

I’m the Secretary of my chapter now – it means big things – I’ve moved up in the ranks and I think I feel myself becoming a better leader. On a regional level, there are some things afoot, but I’m not entirely sure I can announce them yet. I am going to Boule this year – first time since Florida (as a registered participant) and also, I’ll be a delegate! That served the dual purpose of being a responsible team player in the chapter as well as a cost cutting measure *smile*. I’m in a good place with my sorority… I’m having fun, I feel like I’m making a difference and I enjoy my many interactions with my sisters.

Well, that’s a good hefty update. More regular ones to come

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How do you know that what you’ve experienced is real? Versus another dream in your head that is so… “real”istic? I read past memories through this blog and some of the actual memories feel like a distant dream. What makes those real? How do I know for certain I went through them? Unless I have someone who can verify… and then… could it be the stuff of mass delusion? Occasionally I struggle… with this question. I suppose it’s an offshoot of the more common “What is the Meaning of Life” question that folks like to ask. My mission is to discern what is real from what is feigned and the line blurs way more often than I care to imagine. I touch my hunny’s skin and it feel real to me… soft and chocolatey and wonderful. And he reacts to my touch… with a smile or some goosebumps. And in that instant I think he’s real. Not a figment of my imagination. Not a cast member placed here to help play out the whims of my life story. Some one truly real in my life and here. But that fleeting assuredness is chased away by the thought – “one day he won’t be real anymore…” Just like Grandma and mom and dad aren’t anymore. They were a bastion in reality for me. And now all I have is the concept of them. The remembrance of how real they WERE. But are no longer. Then I try to soak up all the “realness” of each moment. So I don’t forget. Collect all my “pretty pictures” so I have them to go with me when all is said and done.

I watched “A Beautiful Mind” last night. I’d seen it before and was always intrigued that someone with something as severe as Paranoid Schizophrenia could overcome it or at least cord it off so he could live somewhat of a normal existence and still benefit from his genius. What I noted last night is that the schitzophrenia had him in such a way that those characters that followed him around were all as real to him as the regular people roaming the earth (according to the movie). He would engage in conversation with them. He could interact with them. Touch them. Feel them. They never actually “went away” he just stopped interacting with them because it would lend to too much of a fantasy world that was not actually a part of our reality. But for all intents and purposes, until someone told him “no – these are not real people – we don’t see them. This is all in your head,” they were a very real and regular part of his life. The mind is Beautiful in its constructs. What it makes you know to be true versus anyone else’s interpretation.

I thought about it a lot last night. And this morning. I thought I’d write it down. Maybe that makes it real.

On another note, I got my hands on the new Erykah Badu album. It’s called “The New Amerykah Part II – Return of the Ankh”. I’ll say honestly that I’d not loved “Worldwide Underground” or “The New Amerykah Part I – 4th World War” with the passion that I loved Baduism, the Live Album or Mama’s Gun (the latter being my absolute FAVORITE Erykah album). But I DO love this new album. It immediately surpassed the last two in my mind to take up position as the 4th Erykah Album that I truly enjoyed. With that, I’ve already identified a song that I can relate to in a very surreal way. Although it’s done in the same three movement style as “Green Eyes” (for which I adored ALL THREE movements), “Out My Mind Just in Time’s” first movement hits me right *here* (pointing to my head and my heart). Music. Sentiment. Emotion and execution all join forces for it to sound like Erykah has watched my past relationships and took a little while to quantify what she read. But finally found the very simplest words to express my addiction. My compulsion. I expressed to MJ yesterday that the main issue with me is that I remember vividly and sometimes still feel in my heart how very deeply I loved… EVERYONE. It’s still incredibly real to me. But as a side effect… I also remember how hurt I felt.

I’m a recovering undercover over-lover
Recovering from a love I can’t get over
Recovering undercover over-lover
And now my common law lover thinks he wants another

And I’d lie for you… I’d cry for you
‘n pop for you and break for you
And hate for you and hate you too
If you want me to… ahhh ooooh
I’d pray for you… Crochet for you
Make it from scratch for you
Leave off the latch for you
Go to the Store for you
Do it some more for you
Do what you want me to
Guess I’m a fool for you

I’m a recovering undercover over-lover
Recovering from a love I can’t get over oooh I
Recovering undercover over-lover
And now my common law lover thinks he wants another

And I’d lie for you… and cry for you
‘n pop for you… break for you
‘n hate for you and I’ll hate you too
If you want me to… I gotta do
My Love for you
Chop and Screw for you
Paint it Red for you
It’s true it’s true
Poor Badu…
Ooooh oooh ooh
Thought I was through with you
Guess I’m a fool for you….

*

*

I’ve been keeping so much bottled in because I can’t stand the thought of it “getting out”… But you know what – I started this blogging experience way long ago when it was called journaling and i had a paper and pen (found ALL my journals in the excavation of my parent’s old apartment – even from elementary school). Fine – back then there wasn’t a “world audience” – but I truly believe there isn’t one here either. I’m writing to the universe and whoever else would like to chime in. I can’t let this not be my place of solitude. Maybe the time away has turned off some readers and thusly given me less eyes. I can deal with that. So then… a few random thoughts that have been going around in my head for the last few months.

I can’t BELIEVE “we” (meaning my brother) lost our birth home – I keep struggling when I write that last word. It wasn’t a house with a white picket fence and memories on the porch. But we grew up there. It WAS my home. It was where I defaulted to because mom and dad were there. And now I’m positive that strangers live there because shit didn’t work out the way it was supposed to. And now all I have are my watercolored memories of green plush couches and burgundy carpets (horrible, I know… but it’s what mom and dad did with the decor LOL)

I’m completely saddened by the earthquake in Haiti. But it’s opened my eyes to so much. I’ve learned more about my parent’s native country in the last few weeks than I had all my life growing up in a haitian household. I understand now why everyone has professional portraits for pictures and not just regular every day pictures. I mean… these people were EXTRA classy. And I understand better now. But the suffering. And the destruction. And the lack of people I thought who loved me checking in — to see if there was anyone I knew in the earthquake. But all I keep hearing is “I assumed that everyone you knew was up here by now.” My family is huge. There’s no way they could ALL be up here. But I’m supposing that it’s been enough death and destruction from me for a lifetime. It still hurts – total strangers checked in with me. *shaking my damned head* I check in on them when there’s so much as too much extra rain in their parts. But… you know… I shouldn’t be doing that in the hopes that they’ll do that for me. So I’ll get over it.

Work is really painful for me right now. 3 times the workload, 1/2 the recognition. My manager who I adored as the “best manager I’ve ever had” has recently had a change of… everything – heart / disposition / demeanor. Maybe that all comes with the birth of his child and probably having to deal with considerably more bullshit than normal. But he’s not the same and hasn’t been for a long time. Used to be that I could count on him to defend his team; provide guidance for us and LEAD us. But he’s pretty much let us all out to flail on our own lately. I guess it’s sink or swim time. It’s really a gyat damned jungle out there. *smh*

Wedded life is much better. I enjoy being with Earl. I have somehow managed to curb my libido down to a dull roar. Maybe this helps in making us better friends and well, so much for lovers. I’ll get it where I can take it. It’s still hellified painful that my best friend is so apathetic towards him after that incident with the emails. It feels very much like Mom & Nininne, but… angrier. Dad could still hang out with Mom and her and it wasn’t weird. But it’s very weird for me now. And will be weirder still when I have kids. Because I’m sure she’ll want to be a part of their lives… but their lives will be part Earl’s.

Sorority life is good and bad… GREAT new position that I’m enjoying very much! Some new sisters in the fold want to act as if I’m after their prized appointed positions. Truly? I’d been there and am not and all I have to say is – if you’re going to be all about business with me IN A SORORITY? I don’t need you – I have enough co-workers. I joined AKA to have SISTERS. Enough of this backstabbing, looking over your shoulder BULL SHIT. I’m done with those particular “women” – I use that quite loosely and will continue to socialize with the ones who are about fostering a sisterhood with me.

We go for consultations on the IVF on Thursday. I’m excited and yet nervous. I hope I’m ready

Hemorrhoids SUCK. And I better get them taken care of before I get pregnant because I can’t imagine this level of discomfort coupled with THAT level of discomfort.

My feelings turn so quickly these days. One day I’m in love with something – an idea, a painting, a thought, a thing… and the next day I could care less for it. People are beginning to be included.

Money continues to be a feast or famine issue for me. Right now I’m at an intermittent buffet… Not wanting for anything dire, but i could sure use some more.

I am the ultimate creature of comfort lately. I enjoy things that comfort me and make me comfortable. Unfortunately for me… all these things COST. So i either need to be comforted less or find more money.

I feel pretty good writing this stuff down finally. Hopefully I’ll continue to do so and won’t trap myself in my own head.

*

So… I’m kind of on the outskirts of all of this getting random reports every now and again about the latest. Here’s what I know in short:

There was a *makes fingers do the quotations move* “Car Crash” involving Tiger Woods a week ago where he hit a tree head on, air bags didn’t deploy and there didn’t seem to be any damage to his door. In a valiant attempt to *quotes move, again* “save him”, his wife Elin busted both back windows *cue up Jazmine Sullivan quietly in the background* to his Cadillac Escalade (quick RCA dog head tilt here on why a billionaire is driving an Escalade…) to *quotes move a third time* “pull him to safety” then a day or two later it starts to come out that there were “transgressions” with someone who he left a voicemail for asking her for things she’d have to do for him Huge. Quickly. Bye. Because his wife had been going through his phone (right before the “crash”?) A day later there was another name… cause the first girl we heard about had a J – Jenna or Joanna or something… now there was this Uchitel chick and today a third… a Kalika someone (who I SWORE would be a sistah with a name like that – and maybe would have actually made this whole thing jucier – but Tiger gets points for being consistent with his Jungle Fever or… um… Cablinasian Fever… because Kalika was just another skinny white girl – but brunette this time). And over all of this fuckery he laid the sauce of “I’m only human, stop pestering me and my family – by the way my wife is so gracious and wonderful, stop accusing her of being violent and barbaric – but wait – NOT gracious and wonderful enough for me to try and keep my 9 iron in the bag” right along the top with a flourish.

In. A. Nutshell.

What’s my take?

This was a public service reminder to all and everyone who is in a committed relationship or married to go through their phones and delete questionable shit. And questionable means just that. If it can be construed a million ways. Or if your mama read it and you think she’d raise an eyebrow… If it’s a photo you have to turn on an angle and preface with “wait… you gotta know the story behind it…” DE? Lete. And then make a little resolution to try not to anymore with the creating of new messages like that, mmmkay? Especially if you KNOW someone’s going to be looking at your phone when you aren’t.

Do I think he’s wrong? Sure. I also think that society has inflated our expectations of what we should and should not be doing. But that’s a blog for another time… or maybe – I wrote it last blog, actually LOL. I think I might have been able to forgive him on one… but three? I mean… damn, Tiger… How many women are you “wearing out?” Fer shizzle.

*

I woke up at 5 AM and jumped to work as there were some items that needed to be handled even though we had a 5 day weekend. Work never ends, so I can’t stop working sometimes.

A conversation later on with a close friend revealed to me his proposed reasoning behind “romance”, “marriage” and “fidelity”. This one, my mind chewed on for a LONG time. He likened it to a “fence in a woman’s mind”… He said that when you own some sheep and you put a thought in their heads and get them all to thinking that way, the likelihood that they’ll stray from the patch is minimized. You might not even NEED a fence… because it’s a fence in their minds. Men drummed up all of these concepts to keep women from straying from them because, he admitted, men can’t handle it. Sure they can handle the idea just fine that they can hop from woman to woman non stop. But they can’t handle it if they hear one of their women hopped. So they make us believe from early on that it’s romance and fidelity and marriage that we seek… so that we can stay put. I looked back on my past relationships with men and I felt… pretty stupid. Cause I couldn’t dispute it all the way with any of them. In the end for most cases… the romance was held up like a smoke screen so that they could do what they needed to do, while I waited patiently. I took comfort in the idea that it isn’t really much about “romance” between Earl and I, though. It’s a LOT more about friendship. We lean heavily on each other and try to brace one another for the tribulations of the world. We’re very much partners in fighting off the ills together. So I left that thought not feeling completely victimized. But I’m MUCH wiser now for the conversation. Too bad that couldn’t come when I was younger. Would have saved me a GANG of heart ache. And now I am completely convinced that my girl children will NEVER partake in any fairy tales if I can help it. It just adds to the wickedness.

Later on that day, an elementary school friend shared this picture with me.

I'm still bugging out that we're only a bit taller than the hydrant.

Yeah. That’s me on the left. I don’t even REMEMBER that coat, for real. But I could clearly see… w/o having to really scrutinize… my mommy dressing me up like a little doll. It’s what she LIVED for. She adored seeing me look like one of her little porcelain dolls so she’s shop and shop and I’d wear it and she’d do my hair and she was so excited! I was excited to see the pic. So much so that I was about to send it to her.

And that’s when everything started to take a downward spiral. I had a mini meltdown. Crying and missing her and wishing she could share in the remembrance but she’s gone. She’s gone. And what can I do??? Luckily, it only lasted for so long when I remembered… I can share this with Domi. I can share this with Nininne. And I did. And felt so much better. Nininne says she remembers that they bought the coat on one of their outings to Delancey Street. Of course they did!!!

With that comfort and the helpful words from my husband, I nestled into his chest last night and murmured “I love you” until I fell asleep and finally gave my mind much needed rest.

*

Hi, FB Fam…. we need to talk.

Without getting too technical… we need some space…
But here’s the technical of it, because I know you just said “Why???”

I’ve been journaling since I was about 10 years old. Writing poems. Putting down my personal thoughts. Writing out the going ons of my life since then has always been a freeing experience. Literally. It frees up space in my head for new thoughts to form or for old torturous thoughts to be expelled. It got harder to journal growing older because having all the thoughts in one place, in one notebook… and god forbid I left it somewhere when something amazing would happen. I might forget to write it down at all. LOL

Along came blogging.

I logged my first blog in 2000 via Blogger.com (i’ve since moved to WordPress) which was all the rage back then. And the freedom to blog from any computer at anytime… even from my phone… was intoxicating! I sometimes would blog 3 and 4 times a day. Just to put my thoughts down. I became a “Blogger”. Telling the universe my thoughts and recounting the wild tales of my then youth. I had followers for my blog of similar places in their lives and we exchanged commentary on our crazy stories. Then something crazy happened. I started to grow up. I got engaged. I got married. I lost my parents. I started planning a family. And through all of that, the expectations of what I “should” write, changed.

I found myself censoring and rewriting and blog editing and finding the process of blogging LESS cathartic than it had always been. I was editing out because of who was looking. So I started blogging less. And folks started following less and that was fine too because I wasn’t saying anything amazing or profound or even interesting.

Then came Facebook and it’s “Notes” functionality which I used primarily to post my crazy FB questionnaires “21 Truths” “Fill in the Answer” type quizzes and what not. And I discovered a functionality to pull my blog into the Notes section through RSS. (technical) But basically when I post to my regular blog at thoughtsdaughter, a mirror of it will appear in my Facebook Notes. I thought, this might be a way to start blogging again and more regularly. Killing 2 birds with one stone – writing in my life journal and keeping my friends updated on FB.

Although it’s had a great effect of reaching people I’d not spoken to in ages and brought them up to speed in life and garnered an amazing amount of support from people during my rough spots and trial times, there were the subtle murmurs from folks who felt I was “living too publicly” or wishing I’d choose my subjects “more carefully” or generally censor myself. MORE.

The fact of the matter is, despite what any preconceived notions of me are that are or might be floating around – I’m human. I’m my very own kind of human. I have really bad days where I don’t WANT to be positive. I have arguments with my husband and there are days I wish I was single. I have long stretches of time where I feel getting married was the very best thing I could have done in my life and the man I chose was exactly right. I have days where I feel that none of my dreams can come true and days where I’m invincible. I curse profoundly. I watch risque programming and find things very interesting (funny, mostly) and like to comment on it. I’m very much a Lady in the street and will be an excellent role model for my children one day. But sometimes I write about things that might color that Lady in a very Pleasantville kind of way. And that’s okay. I have to allow myself to be myself and be okay with who I am. And NOT censor. Or over edit. Or tailor the story of my life to the likings of others. I am no saint. And my marriage / relationship with Earl is no bastion of black love outside of the fact that we’ll always fight to stay together – not because we never have a hiccup or a problem and live in some flawless bubble.

I won’t take the RSS feed off of FB. That’s too harsh. However, I have created a category called TooHotforFB (*chuckle*) that will NOT be posted on the RSS. You’ll only be able to read it from my web page. But I think it’s a good compromise. A compromise for me to remain in touch with you. And better yet… to remain in touch with myself.

So, we’re not breaking up FB… We’re just giving each other the space we need to make sure we can stay together You have the option of reading me uncensored at my blog… or stay and read here, as I’m not in the business of disillusionment. Sometimes, ignorance is bliss – who am I to shake that up?

*

Where I pick this dream up is that a bunch of people I know, mixed company from all the walks of my life, are getting together for some kind of a party…. game night… beer night… watch tv at a bar night – something non monumental and E and I have decided to go. So we’re getting ready to go and there’s all this debate between he and I about which car to take. I, unusually, am lobbying HARD to take both cars. And in my dream mind I’m positive this is the right thing to do because if I don’t, I’m pretty positive that I’ll be trying to find a ride home at the end of the night. Obviously in this dream, Earl is someone who might flat leave me (which is furthest from reality). But I win the argument and we take both cars but now he’s on a mission to make SURE that we don’t come home together. He’s on the phone calling the male persons in our get-together party and trying to set up “after” party activities – namely drinking and hitting the strip club. (Now I’m POSITIVE that I’m dreaming because … like… not Earl in real life… like not never. Not drinking. Not strip clubbing).

So we get to the club and it’s a pretty decent club – nothing amazingly shocking or anything. And it looks like we have a full house and as I’m looking around, I see a lot of people from my life who might have been a part of it at one point, but not as a main character. You know… the ones that were always around in the hall at school or hanging out in the game room at the dorms or work in a different department than you at work and you say hi in the halls — but not necessarily the ones that you’d invite to your wedding or expect to see there by your side in times of need. But this particular room was filled with those characters for my life and all age appropriate. The folks that were there from Elementary school were about 35 and looked as they do now. The folks from HS and College and work… were all their proper age. Playing pool, having beers, chatting it up and away. Seemed like a prety okay night for the most part.

At one point I start looking around and can’t find Earl. And when I start to seek him out, some of my friends begin to put up some chaff and flare for him, distracting me and trying to make me change my focus. I see what’s happening so I don’t petition too hard to find him and decide that maybe it’s better to just do something else. So I grab 2 friends – Li’l Vic and Mani (my co worker) and we go to the corner Bodega which seemed to be juiced up like a 7-11 – it was bright inside and stocked heavily with everything. Mani comes over and asks me to borrow a dollar. I reach in my pocket and pull a rather tattered one out. As I try to hand it to her she points to a case behind me of lottery tickets and tells me to buy the Mega Millions Scratch off (or something along those lines). So i purchase it and turn around to hand it to her. She hands me a nickel to scratch off the area. I do and it reveals “CONGRATULATIONS!! YOU’VE WON THE 1 MILLION DOLLAR GRAND PRIZE!!!” I start to get very excited and I show Mani and she snatches the card out of my hand with glee and starts parading up and down the aisled – “I WON! I WON!” she’s exclaiming. And I stand there watching her wondering… wait… it was my dollar… I even scratched it off…. And I feel a brood coming on. She comes dancing back over to me and says “Well??? What do i do?” I remember from my very limited knowledge of lottery that you have to give it to the store owner for verification and possible pay out because the store gets a cut as well for being a winning location. So we hand it to the store clerk who looks at he ticket and looks at us and then at the ticket again and says that he won’t be able to give it to her in cash – she’ll have to accept a check for now. She shrugs and says, “Well can you write it out for $100 less and give that to me in cash? ” The clerk shrugs and says “Why not”. Still wrestling with the idea that it was my dollar and I scratched the ticket, I ask Mani if I can hold some money till pay day on Friday. And she gives me a screw face and announces that she MUST have it back by Friday. Now, I’m annoyed. “Damnit, girl… it was MY dollar you asked to borrow to get the ticket!!!” And she says “Yes… so you’ll owe me one dollar less on Friday when you pay me back”. (Editors Note: Mani in real life is NO WHERE NEAR this catty and horrible. She’s the friendliest, sweetest girl EVER). So she instructs the bodega guy to make it 200 and hands me $100 that I slide into my pocket and begin making plans for and accounting it in my head for removal from my check funds on Friday.

We head back to the club and she’s really low key about winning and we’re all still hanging together when my elementary school friend Rossana comes up to me and says, “I hope you drove, honey… cause you’re husband left a WHILE ago with the guys to hit the strip club…. You look tired.” And I nodded that I was. And now I was hurt as well.

I gradually woke up and had this song in my head. (sometimes the songs are related… and sometimes not…)

I was visiting a friend (who by what she looks like in the dream… I’ve never seen or met this woman before in real life). And her house is far out in the suburbs of either Long Island or New Jersey. BIG, spacious beautiful house on expansive land. I dare say the house nearly qualifies as a mansion with it’s “east” and “west” wings and green house in the back where she seemed to like to spend so much time that there was a little tea table and chairs set up right on the edge of it so she could watch her garden grow. During this particular visit, this friend tells me, it’s not her house… it’s her recently departed Father’s house. She was sure that he left it to her in his will and she was looking for what to do with it next after the Will reading would take place next week (in the dream, of course). It was too much house for just her and she knew that it would just be another point of argument for her and her 10 siblings who’ve been methodically rationing out everything to themselves in their heads in lieu of the reading of the will. But she had an understanding with her dad and knew he’d leave the house up to her.

She proceeded to give me a tour of this house. It was VAST. Huge foyer, stairwell, living room area, parlour and dining room. A Kitchen with an island and huge storage freezer and mexican tile floors. The basement, which was the only part i didn’t love was furnished but there seemed to be a pre existing issue with flooding that was apparant to me. Then the up stairs. Off to the side of the living room area, there seemed to be some loft stairs that led to a full level the size of the living room area, unfurnished but finished and ready to be lived in. It had a separate entrance. In the dream I think… this would be perfect for Domi… And THAT area had an upstairs (so it was a duplex apartment within the house). And the upstairs portion had a kitchen, parlour, living room – was completely furnished in cherry wood and blue carpeting. There was even a bar in the corner parlour. And then I knew it’d be perfect for Domi to entertain and have get togethers and genuinely enjoy his life. I found myself really wanting the house and feeling that pang of envy / admiration for folks that have their own thing that way and subsequently brushed it off as I always do, knowing I’ll have mine – it’ll just take a little more work and I’ll have what I always wanted.

We get back down to the garden parlour and she laments to us (Earl and I) how she’d just like to get rid of the house. She doesn’t want to deal with agents and real estate brokers. So I ask her, what’s the going rate for the house. And her eyes light up. “Victoria? you’d want the house?” And I say, “Well, who wouldn’t? It’s gorgeous… but who can afford it?” And she begins to smile and muse in her chair like she just hit the jackpot. “Victoria – if you want this house, I’ll meet you at your price point. You name it… it’s yours!” Taken aback I dismiss this as a joke and shake my head. It’s impossible that such a deal could be presented to me so casually. She stands up and sticks her hand out, “I mean it, Victoria. It would give me no greater pleasure than to have you be the recipient of this house.” I stand up and we negotiation (Mostly her telling me) that she’ll sell me this expansive house for $5000. And I can’t believe it. Tentatively she says, “we just have to go to the will reading tomorrow and all will be solidified.” I try to hold back my hopes but in my mind I’m making plans for every room already. A house… one of my very own…

The will reading takes place in the blink of an eye and in it, my friends father decrees that the house shall be left to be divided amongst all the siblings. Citing how many years of memories took place… all the bickering and backstabbing that took place in the house should also be the demise of the house. “Good riddance,” he says, “to you all and your argumentative natures. Have one last great fight on me.” Almost instantaneously, all 10 siblings get up and start arguing. Sitting there with Earl and Dominic, I shake my head and say “There will be no resolution of this today or anytime in the near future. Our search continues…” And we stand up and walk out of the door past the flailing arms and hands on hips and elevated voices.

And I wake up with this song in my head.

*