My cloud colored glasses.

I had the craziest dream last night.  This always seems to happen to me when I don't brush my teeth before bed.  I'm not sure if this makes me more or less inclined to practice good oral hygiene habits in the evenings.  My husband would likely prefer the former.  Aside from the obvious, the benefits of a subconscious on plaque, free to work out its dilemmas without my interference may not be worth sending the dentist's kids to Duke.

On to the dream...

I look out my kitchen window and see my neighbors' dog lying outside my front door.  She's a cute little Welsh Terrier and I wonder why she's at my house and how long she has been there.  I open the door and pick her up.  She's her normal sweet self but I wonder how long it has been since she has eaten and where my neighbors are.  I leave my house with the dog in my arms to check on my neighbors (they are older, after all).  The dog puts a pair of glasses on my face.

Jump to a random street corner with a random group of people and another very cute smallish dog.  The dog comes right up to me and I start asking the owner, another older man, about the breed.  He tells me the breed; I've never heard of it before but act as though I have and have just never seen one.  I interact with the dog a little more, make some small talk with the female owner of the dog, and the light changes.  Everyone starts to cross the street.  As I stand up, the man smiles at me and puts a pair of glasses on my face.

I cross the street and part ways with the rest of the people as I enter an old building that looks to be part library and part apothecary.  Just inside the door a very amicable dog greets me with a wag of the tail, a lick to my face, and somehow places another pair of glasses on my face.  I pat the dog, seems spaniel-ish to me, and make my way deeper into the building.  There are musky smells of leather and mothballs and maybe brandy...

I come to a very ornate, heavy wooden door with a large brass ring knocker.  I don't knock, I push the door open and walk into what appears to be a class that I'm a part of.  There's a woman standing at the head of a very long, muslin cloaked table that is being suffocated by large quilt-like pieces of fabric made of very heavy velvets and brocades and chenilles.  Think costume shop on cutting day for King Lear.  I listen to the task at hand, something about cutting and assembling squares of fabric to make the new "thing" and how instructions are within the fabric...Whatever.  The woman comes by and puts another pair of glasses on my face as she mutters something about my "progress".  I start to cut quilted squares of tweed and realize that the instructions are, indeed, in the fabric.  There are little labels on each of the squares with directions printed on them.  The instructions are authored by the likes of Emeril, Martha Stewart, Julia Child, and Candice Olson.  After some time I realize I'm struggling to read the print on the labels.  I'm going back and forth between squares of velvet, tweed, chenille, and *gasp* brocade, trying to read directions and make the incongruences between authors mesh.  Everything looks blurry.  I'm starting to get a headache.  I look to the woman who I assume to be the teacher.  She's messing with the middle of the table and I realize she's petting Wall-E's eyeballs.  Wall-E is there, in the middle of the table.  Don't ask, it's a dream.  Wall-E is cooing "Eee-vaaaah" at the teacher and she is fawning over him; she's no use to me.  Those of you reading this that wear glasses will get the next part:

I take off a pair of glasses to rub my tired eyes.  I lay the glasses down on the table in front of me and it occurs to me that the instruction label closest to me has just become a bit clearer.  In a flash of cognition it also occurs to me that I'm still wearing glasses.  I frantically remove another pair of spectacles and then another and another.  I can read clearly!  I complete the task in a whirlwind flurry.  The teacher lady smiles at me as I leave.  The spaniel dog at the door winks at me in a manner reminiscent of the Cheshire Cat.  The sunlight feels great as I step onto the sidewalk.  I can see clearly...

I've been ruminating on this dream all day.  I have no idea what significance Wall-E and the cooking and decorating icons have, other than some weird power play between the domestic and scientific areas of my brain, which I'm sure occurs daily; it could also just be because I have a four-year-old in the house.  But I get the glasses part.  Don't let others influence my view of the world.  I need to see things for myself, in my own way.  If I can come to my own conclusions, I can get the job done.  AND I can possibly get the job done better than most.  Tonight, I brush.  And floss.

Introduction, as if it's necessary.

So.  I'm a mom, a wife, an artist, a dog trainer, a dog shampoo formulator, a runner, and I would love to get back into martial arts (Kung Fu, specifically).  Why not add "Blogger" to the bio?  I am a walking dichotomy.  I'm a social butterfly one day and vehemently anti-social the next.  I feel the need to please everyone one day and don't give a rat's bum what anyone thinks the next.  One day I'm on top of the world, I know everything, and no one can stop me.  The next day I would just as soon crawl into the nearest inconspicuous hole and cower until the moon shines again (but it might not!).  I have more blessings than any individual deserves and yet life has sure dealt me a pile of hot fecal material.  I am your average woman.  I have nice legs, pretty eyes, a big nose and a small chest.  I am very talented in some areas and seriously deficient in others.  WOW!  I'm your AVERAGE WOMAN!  While I am not a proponent of mediocrity, I find nothing wrong with running an evenly paced race.

I'm trying to embrace social media.  I have had no problems embracing Facebook.  I use my son and lack of proximity to the grandparents as justification for my addiction.  I suppose what I really want is a means of self-expression that people can choose to read or ignore without getting me banned from News Feed and won't injure my self-worth if I have to renew the listing on Etsy.  I do not Tweet.  I am not a celebrity and Facebook is enough of a time suck.  I don't even get the whole "#tryingtoexpressmyself" junk.  Please don't waste your time trying to explain it to me.  And I believe in Karma AND the fact that Jesus was a son of God that walked on Earth.  I will not always know of that which I speak because I feel this is my personal diary that I am choosing to leave unlocked for random passers-by.  You are welcome to correct, you are not welcome to attack.

I will likely talk a great deal about family dynamics, heart defects, healthy eating, locavore culture, fitness, dogs, dogs, DOGS, the cutest kid in the universe (mine), running, and of course--me.  If you can't handle these things, or a wry sense of humor that may unintentionally offend, check out now.  If you can--well, I welcome you in true Southern Hospitality style.