Thank you, 22k. Our loss is heaven's gain.

I had an uncle who was buried with his pith helmet. For some reason he was always in it... quirky guy and yes he wanted people to giggle when they thought about that. When I go, I have a certain stuffed animal I'd like pitched in the crematorium with me.... long story but it's going with me. Must be sure to tell my son that.

I think I had the same reaction, the misty sun and thinking about Mom when it rose. Yes even now, I see or think things, and think, "Mom would really get a kick out of that".... but she's not here to share it with. I hope she's checking in from Heaven, she would do that sort of thing.

It sounds like your dad is with you at least. We told my dad, and he didn't believe it, it didn't soak in (dementia) then for a while he thought Mom had run off and left him, and that we knew where she was hiding. It soaked in about three years after she died, poor guy was in a wheel chair by then and far gone himself.

Well, take time to cry yourself, it gets easier, but still you'll be struck at unusual times and have to take a moment. Hugs. Been thinking of you. Glad you got to visit with pals.

I've dealt with three family deaths in the past five years.... in Mom's case, we expected it, and had time to build up to it... a sort of relief when she was no longer in pain, but yes a loss. Relief and sorrow all mixed together.... still sorting it out. Same with Dad. He had dementia for the last 10 years of his life. Very sad and hard to live with. Things happened too sad and ugly to repeat.

Much worse is the sudden loss of a loved one... yet also a mixed blessing. You go quickly, and there's something to be said for that. Naturally I'd like to live a long time, but not if I linger in pain.... that's the reality we face if we live a long time. We lost one family member in an avalanche, and I still think of how horrible it would be to be buried in snow, and suffocate or freeze to death. You hope he went really quick and didn't lay there thinking about it.

Hard to top mail order girdles. Girdles just shove the fat somewhere else anyway. Then you look like Margaret Dumont in a tight evening dress....

This morning, I kept waking up all happy. We were deciding my mother's beneficiaries in a spiritual sense. Ted Cruz' girls kept getting on the lists.

In to work, I walked the Evo this morning and spied a white balloon on the run. A red balloon was ahead of it. As they ascended, I thought of "Le Ballon Rouge." I watched it with my mother a few years ago and was reduced to a blubbering mess. The balloon loved the child so much that when the bullies stole and mutilated the balloon to death, the balloon signaled for all the balloons in Paris to take the little boy on a joy ride so he wouldn't grieve.

I watched the balloons ascend, and ascend. When the Evo and I got to the car, they were both out of sight.

P.S. I didn't finish the imagery. When we left the parking lot, we saw a bunch of other balloons still anchored here.

I dreamed last night Justin was giving a show at an "intimate setting," like a house. After a song, he just stopped and stared. It was long enough for the proverbial thousand things to rush through one's mind. I was freaking out, but nobody else seemed much to care. He snapped out of it and finished the show, so I supposed he must have fallen asleep with his eyes open. After the show, peer pressure prevented me from hanging out by the buses.

Nah. He didn't stare with a come hither, but rather comatose. I thought he needed an EMT, but nobody else was doing anything, a la Kitty Genovese. Too many musicians are dying these days, so I was really scared. If Justin were to stare at me, I know he'd only be making fun of the way I stare at him.

But rereading my post, it sounds totally like he was looking amorously at MEEEEEE! Not what I meant. (Sorry Justin.)

That can be the problem with non-verbal communication. Too much of the interpretation is subjective. Most fans have such weak self esteem, all Justin has to do is stare at us, and we go into tizzies. Just an IMHO. Sorry about the insomnia I hate it when that happens.

I had (for me) a nightmare and it got me out of bed early!!! I managed to thrash my bed in the night (happens once in a while) so major remake needed.... anyway I dreamed I was in some neighborhood, was in the garage and either a friend or my mom drove in with a realtor in the car with her. They were shifting some boxes to another car, so I was helping... in one of the boxes were a bunch of LIVE box tortoises!!!!! The poor things were stacked in like rocks (there is nothing so sad as a tired tortoise waggling legs helplessly), so I was picking them up and checking them.... I think American box tortoises, it's illegal to transport them. The realtor gave me some sort of story about them being moved from a client's home. Realtors inherit all sorts of weird things when they sell homes. At the bottom of the box was a live fish, only it was out of water..... looked like a salt water tropical, and it was not in good shape! I was so upset over this fish, and trying to figure how to get it into the right water (salt water aquariums are NOT just a matter of dumping table salt into water, I've never done salt water, too much work) about that time the realtor had figured out I was a posy sniffer and was upset over the transport of live animals... I was about to cave and give him back the critters then the conflict woke me up.... I never dream I'm a hero, and snatch up the box of critters, and run, saving the little things. Noooo I'm easily cowed and would let the creep have them.

My second bad vision came when I fired up the computer this morning, and The Mirror was running a very salacious story about Prince, comparing him to Michael Jackson. PRINCE WAS NO MICHAEL JACKSON. Uhhhh what an insult! Prince was very religious.... and smart. Possibly he exercised his freedom of choice and cashed out with drugs, but there is no reason to make it a trashy event. Sheesh. I'd like to slap the Mirror editors. Prince's family and friends are doing it as a class act, thank goodness. The Jacksons always slithered around on the sheer edge of dysfunction, all they did was sing and dance, and Prince was so much more .... no comparison.

This was two nights ago, but I was too sick to play around online. I dreamed I had a front row ticket to a Justin show, but I couldn't see a seat number. I handed it to the usher, and he informed me the front row was not available to the general public. The staff were all some kind of Indonesian folks, and the usher was very apologetic/embarrassed. He started to say, "Let's call a prayer meeting," but I interrupted seeing there was enough room for a folding chair at the side. Then, I was chagrined for having interrupted a request for prayer. But also at the same time, this other staffer, a girl, brought from off the stage a papasan chair, plaid in rich, red, earthy colors. She plopped it right in the center aisle in the front row for me, and I decided it wasn't going to get any better than that. I sat in the chair, but of course I was looking toward the ceiling. I decided I could definitely do with a stiff neck the next day. I was kind of giddy. Everybody in the venue would surely think me a dork for sitting front and center in a papasan (which I was calling Barbizon in the dream), but it was too good to care.

A fan sat next to me and said my absence at shows had not gone unnoticed by the big-time fans. She said something about being sure I would want a hug from Justin, and I protested. I said I wasn't a homewrecker, and he didn't hug fans, and on and on. The alarm went off before Justin appeared. When I woke up, methought the lady protested too much. I hit the snooze twice or thrice trying to catch the show, but it didn't happen. I had the coolest prayer that morning, but if I'm already off the deep end, I hate to think where that would put me.

Yesterday was rough for me, too. I've spent a couple months being ill with allergies. April, I've been drowsy and fat as a pig from histamines, antihistamines, whatever. I've felt like I needed to sneeze non-stop and I'm so bloated, any scratch of the skin is tragic and itchy. I've not had my mind at work. I didn't know a non-hayfever was going around until today. Yesterday, I cut into a finger. I would have lost a part of it had I not hit bone. I blame it on the terrible allergies and loss of sleep. So, I was dripping blood all around the kitchen wondering why the thing was not bleeding with such a deep cut. Then, the boss, who is not terribly observant due to his Parkinson's noticed. I did all I could with one hand, then asked time off to go to Walgreen's for some first aid. As I tried to get out the door, the dog bit me on the knee. I can't remember what else happened, but I think there was more. Poor me, right? Well, the rain washed the pollen out of the air, and I got enough sleep I don't feel so bad. I took my first shower in a week and got blamed for the floor flooding in my absence. Then, I made a jogger mad for not having the dog under control. How do normal people not make others angry all the time?

Hope you're feeling better.