Weekend started on a sad note. Cousin’s post on Facebook remembering her brother. That day, Saturday, was his birthday and she said she would raise a toast to his memory and I wanted to do that, too, but didn’t. I looked at his picture and said “Happy Birthday, Mark” and lit a candle in his memory.
Then came other stuff that day. Tried to get pictures that were on the camera onto the computer and they would not show up. At. All.
The pictures were gone! Lost! Oh, no!
But I stayed cool, somehow knowing I would find them but angry that they disappeared because they were the OBOB pictures (Oregon Battle of the Books) and I kept saying, “We can’t go back in time to take those pictures!”
Hubby searched computer. I searched computer. So much later in the day, I cried out, “I FOUND THEM!” They were in a subfolder. Darn subfolder. But why they did not appear earlier in our searches remains a mystery.
Then there was me, seeing a picture of me, and asking Jennifer, “Do I really look like that?” The thing that bugged me were the scars, burn scars, so prominent on my face. So VISIBLE. She said yes but also said, “Mom, you are beautiful.” I can’t be beautiful on the outside but I’ll try to be beautiful on the inside and with all the things that I do in life.
Talking with people about changes going on. Am I ready for this? Is it really the time? I need time. I need to learn. I don’t know how to do this thing I wanna do and it’s scary but it has to be done because I want books to stay. Stay forever.
Two movies were a huge disappointment. Hope the next ones are better. Interesting, at least.
Tried to read two books, as well, but one of them just didn’t grab me so it went into the yard sale pile. The other was not the kind of book to read through in one sitting.
And I had a horrible nightmare. Horrible. Jen and I playing in a graveyard. Me lying down on a grave. Right over a skeleton. The grave starts collapsing and I raise my hand out to Jennifer, screaming, "Pull me up! Pull me up!" But just as she grabs my hand, another hand is on me. On my left shoulder. The hand of the skeleton underneath me...trying to pull me in. Into the grave. With him. I woke up with a scream. That dream scared me so bad.
Jesse lost out on riding his bike. He kept going to neighbor's door. And knocking. Got in trouble and lost his chance to ride his bike. He cried but we hope our messages got through to him.
This was not a good weekend for movies. Or books. Or computer time. Or riding the bike.
Or for ladybugs. Jennifer had to say goodbye to her ladybug. Be happy and free, little ladybug.
At least I found the pictures.
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