Tom Cruise only laughs at his own jokes.

(See what I mean?)

Rest in peace, Mr. Carlin.

Last night's dream

I was up for 2.5 hours trying to get Hannah to go to sleep--simultaneously ticking Lynda off (don't ask).

But when, around 3 am, I finally wore her out and slept in a reclining chair, I proceeded into a very strange dream that I will now recount here.

It began at a hotel. I was attending a Harry Potter fan convention, surrounded by people I didn't know at all. Well, I take that back. Joe and Paul DeGeorge were there. I certainly don't know them, but I know of them. Just like I know of Melissa Anelli, Sue Upton, John Noe, and Frankie Franco. Well, anyway . . . there was no one there I was personally acquainted with.

The opening ice-breaker activity didn't go well for me. I wasn't breaking into the cliques of friends that were clearly attending this conference and I began to wonder if I was going to have any fun during this couple of days. Then things began to get out of hand.

The DeGeorge brothers began leading a wave of destruction throughout the hotel, intent on channeling their inner Weasley Twins to build a rocket made up of sprinkler heads, metal tubing and whatever else. The hotel staff was horrified as this rowdy group of Harry Potter fans (all out of character, I am sure) began destroying the hotel. One hotel staffer was walking along beside the mob toting up all of the various bits of wrecked stuff on a clipboard. I could tell the bill was rising.

I was uncomfortable with all of this and soon, so was everyone else. The convention sort of dissolved and everyone went their separate ways--instantly, as often happens in dreams. I found myself walking outside at night, heading toward a familiar location that I have visited in dreams before, but I'm pretty sure doesn't actually exist.

The location was an enormous polyglot department store, that for some reason I want to say is in St. Louis--or at least a dream version of St. Louis. The outer facade of this place is reminiscent of Antoni Gaudi, all undulating curves and arched recesses, but one-story and stretching in both directions for a loonng way. I always seem to visit this Gaudi store at night in the rain. Inside the store, it's a disorganized warren of merchandise, sort of like the local Anderson's store where I live. But the aisles are crisscrossing, there is no discernible separation of one type of goods from another. It's a mess and it's always crowded with wanderers, shoppers. It has restaurants, every type of good or service you would want, and it always features a made-for-infomercial hawker that reminds me of pre-Food Network Rachel Ray.

This is the kind of place where, if you aren't careful, you can turn a corner and be flattened by another customer wheeling a bit car of layaway stuff. (This almost happened to me and I avoided the crash, stepping out of the way and letting this person go by while other shoppers stacked up behind me.) After wandering, I found my way past the Rachel Ray-look alike and toward (one of the?) restaurant(s?). As I wander past a section of hallway seating, who's there but my mom?!

It seems she was there to wait for me, but wasn't expecting my arrival until after the conference was over. I had been wondering myself what I was going to do, since everyone expected me to be at this HP gathering for a few days. I supposed I would find a hotel room and wait out the time or maybe I'd get a plane ticket--this Gaudi store might have been next to an airport, or contained an airport? But I had been undecided on what to do. I was feeling a bit confused and at-sea regarding where I was and what I was going to accomplish.

But the arrival of Mom--with a car(?)--ended that bit of confusion. After she complained a bit about the poor quality of the coffee available at this department store I guess we began the trip home--to Tifton, to Westerville? I'm not even sure we went anywhere, because that is where the dream ended. It was 6 am and Hannah was stirring in her crib to my left. I sat up and let my body slowly begin waking up.

Anyone want to hazard a guess for what THAT was all about? Why do I keep returning to this bizarre 1970s-era (that's what it feels like inside, a disorganized K-Mart) bazaar? Why always at night, in the rain?

More R.I.P.s

Within the last few weeks Tom Cruise struck again. (And I say this while watching The Firm on TV. Just trying to deflect the coming Cruise-related rage.)

In no particular order:

1. Composer Alexander Courage who made many contributions to the musical world, but is likely most famous for providing the Star Trek theme. If you want to learn a great deal more about Mr. Courage, here is a link to James Lilek's Diner podcast on the topic. Mr. Lileks is a Star Trek fan.

In that same Diner podcast, you will also learn that another composer Earle Hagen--famous for the Dick Van Dyke theme--also passed away about the same time as Courage.

Another famous musician, guitarist Bo Diddley, also passed on within the last few days. Everyone says that he was famous for creating the "Bo Diddley beat," a rhythm that was adopted by just about every famous rock-n-roller since the 1960s . . . but I don't know enough about musical history to say more than that. I knew him best for his Nike commercial with Bo Jackson.

And finally, say goodnight and good luck to famous comedian Harvey Corman. I "knew" Corman best for his many years on the Carol Burnett show--a great favorite of mine when I was young. I later caught up with his more "adult" work on Mel Brooks movies--like in "Blazing Saddles" and "Young Frankenstein." But I always liked him best with the comedy troupe on CBS weeknights.

******

So, then the question becomes . . . how did such a wide variety of entertainers run afoul of Crazy Tom?

Well, if I had to guess, I suppose I'd say that a "Star Trek" rerun (and the resultant theme song) awoke Suri from a nap, causing lots of crying and fussing and whatnot.

Earle Hagen? Well, I don't know if the Cruise's watch a lot of Nik at Night, so they might not be seeing any "Dick Van Dyke" reruns. But, its been well-known that Scientologists have a strong dislike of whistling--since it enrages the thetans in the bloodstream and causes air current disturbances that attract unwanted alien attention. And one of Hagan's most famous TV performances is the whistling in the "Andy Griffith Show" theme. So, that daily/sometimes hourly performance was always a ticking time bomb.

Bo Diddley? Well, one of his songs--"She's Fine, She's Mine"--was featured in "The Color of Money," but since everyone thinks of only two things when that movie is mentioned (Paul Newman and Cruise's ridiculous pompadour hair), this didn't bode well for Diddley.

And then there is Corman. I think he simply felt that Corman's inability to prevent breaking character when acting a comedy bit with Tim Conway was an example of unprofessionalism. Such are the mistakes that can end a life.

Patio update

Patio being poured today?

Men outside, discussing proper level of gravel, thickness of slab, and potential concrete finishing techniques.

Any concern of rain later in the day seems to be a nonissue?

Big piles of dirt (removed a week ago) remain in mute protest to the fate of grass underneath.

Large ruts in grass from truck driven by side of house a few days ago.

Must break eggs to make omelet?

Thoughts on Family

It's been another pretty weekend here in the Midwest, and even better, we haven't wasted every minute of it. Friday night we gathered up the family members and headed out to Alum Creek Park to commune with other members of the PTA and kids in Sarah's school. There were a great many deserts available and I managed to sample a few small items and not completely wreck my nascent diet.

Yes, I'm on a diet. I could definitely stand to drop about ten more pounds, tone up the saggy midriff, and flaunt my mid-life, undefined abs around the pool this summer. Besides, Lynda has been working very hard to shed the remainder of her pre-Hannah weight and a family that diets together . . . well, you know.

Besides, we've got a friendly bet going on. Because, the couple that goads each other, well . . . you probably know that too.

Saturday was almost too busy to be believed, especially in my sheltered, structured life. First I took Grace to her gymnastics class in the morning. After a quick lunch when we got home, we stepped over to our neighbor's house for their son's 4-year-old birthday party. Again, I only ate a bit of cake and ice cream. Once the party was over, Lynda took the older girls to another school-related party while I held down the home front with Hannah. And after we found something to eat for dinner, the girls watched their weekend movie while Lynda bakes cakes to be raffled off at church this morning. We're raising money for the Vacation Bible School outreach program that begins in July.

All very social and communal, to be sure, but it's good to step outside, talk to other people and wonder if we can make more friends with Sarah's classmate parents, some of whom live pretty close by. In the heady spirit of getting to know people, we are in the process of talking ourselves into starting this Fall to host a neighborhood Halloween Party. We have no more thoughts or details on it yet, but if we can pull it off, we might find new ways of stretching ourselves out into the world that our kids are entering. It's a place we need to be.

Today we drug the kids out again to ride bikes a bit. We pedaled our way to the neighborhood middle school and let Grace gain confidence going faster around the track. She is always initially reluctant to get out there and do it, but I think she feels accomplished once it's all over. Grace needs the attention, since she is the Middle Child after all, and its a shame, because she's got such a vibrant personality and is so willing to step out there and get into it with anyone. That is what makes her so unique and special compared to the rest of us. I want her to know how vibrant she can be and how she can make a room pay attention to her.

After bike riding, Lynda and S & G decided to drop over at the pool for a bit--the first pool visit of the season. I am staying here with Hannah, who hasn't had much nap time today and we are worried that her ear infection isn't completely subdued. We used all the medicine, but she pitched a right good fit earlier this afternoon that has all the markings of a "My Ear Hurts" problem.

In non family news, our back yard is a mess. We finally got started on the deck removal/patio installation project. I should clarify that the people we hired to do it got started. The old deck is now gone and there is a semi-prepared hole in the ground where it used to be. We've been reassured that the concrete will be poured on Tuesday, so hopefully I can anticipate the weekend with a nice book on my new patio before too much longer.

The good news about this is that I now only have to mow the front yard while all the mess is occurring in eh back. After we're done with this current project, we'll see about the last one we've got in mind--bringing some order to the backyard landscape. It is a real hodgepodge of beds, weeds, scraggly trees, sun-burned hostas, and I don't know what all back there and we're both tired of it.

When we bought the house, the yard was in better shape--though it wasn't a show piece. I knew that it would decline from that starting point, because given the choice, I'd rather read a book that weed a flower bed. Strange--in a way--since my dad loves nothing more (or not much more) that to plant, bed, weed, shape, and manicure. In all the houses that I grew up in, my dad's concern for the yard would shine through. My childhood home--as you can see in this decades old picture--was full of azalea bushes, pine needle beds, and beautiful things.

I know Dad cherishes this picture because the house looks nothing like this now. The people that bought the house when we left (the summer before my senior year in HS) neglected it and let it grow over (like I'm doing now). It makes him sad to see what became of all of those years of care. But, the memories of a happy family remain and that house--that image of that house--will always be home to me. I'll carry it in my memories forever, until I can't recall anything anymore. The home they live in now is more like Grandmother and Pappaw's home--the place where those of us that grew up strong on Woodruff Street can bring their own strong families to gather together and celebrate The Family. And that is just as valuable. May our children carry strong memories of the new yard, the new trees, the grass, the shed, and the weenie roasts forward into their own adulthood.