Too bad it was a dream.

I had a dream last night that I went somewhere to go shopping. Normally, I'd call that a nightmare because I really dislike shopping. Anyway, this place was an outdoor shopping mall and had little gambling kiosks here and there. I chose one that was similar to a roulette wheel. I gambled six quarters and ended up winning $4,000 +.

While waiting to collect my winnings, someone walked by with some pull tab sort of contraption. I bought a couple and won an additional $6,000+.

I like dreams like that. It might convince me that shopping isn't so bad after all.

I've never won anything in Vegas, but my sis did when we went to Vegas in 2002, which by the way, was only a month after I met hubby. It was her first time there. Here's the story.

I took an online test today to see where I lean politically. The results were no big surprise to me. I'm left wing libertarian. Right about where you see The Dalai Lama (ha- comparing myself to The Dalai Lama... I should apologize profusely.)

I had hubby take the test, being fully prepared to see him in the opposite corner from me, or perhaps a bit closer to the middle. I decided that this would make for a fascinating post on genes -vs- environment.

I was raised in a very VERY conservative, ultra-religious, right-wing republican household yet I am so different from my mom and dad.

BJ on the other hand, has parent's who seem to have similar political and socio-economical feelings as me. Even so, I thought he'd end up being more on the right wing-authoritarian side because he seems much more conservative thinking than I am. He's very much a corporate America type of guy, likes Microsoft, and loves wearing a starched white shirt to work. Even better, is when he gets to wear a tie. He's like a kid at Christmas when he gets to wear a tie to work. Me? I'm a free spirit, like to run around barefoot, and love to stop and smell the flowers. I'd feed the whole world if I could afford it.

Well, slap my fanny and call me Sally. He tested out almost exactly where I did. We went over the questions together and talked about our answers. I think we only had differing opinions on three questions, but after debating a bit, I think we both could see why the other person thought the way they did. It was all really a matter of interpretation.

He and I have had several conversations about genes -vs- environment. I can't quite decide which is a bigger factor in someone's development. I have arguments for both sides. My sis is adopted, yet we are very much alike. I'm in some ways I'm like my brother (who has a different father than I do), introspective and have loner tendencies. BJ and I are very much alike in the way we think and the way we react to things, yet we grew up in vastly different environments.

So there's the "bad seed" theory; you know, the serial killers who grew up in a perfectly normal home. That *thing* the thing that made them do these horrible things had to come from somewhere. Were they hard-wired to do this?

Anybody want to chime in on this? My mind still isn't made up.

Tonight I volunteered to help at a Hospice seminar. The seminar was to give people skills to cope through the holidays after losing someone. The first part of this volunteer activity was questionable in regard to my safety, but the rest of the evening was very rewarding. My job was to help people find their way to the conference center. Doesn't sound too bad, right?

Wrong! I was banking on Karma being on my side for doing good works tonight. I was in a very questionable part of town, at a motel, in the dark, standing in the parking lot by myself. When people would pull into the motel parking lot, I'd go up to their car if they looked lost and direct them to go down an alley to the conference center. This involved trust between two parties; the little old ladies seeing someone coming up to their car with a flashlight; and me, hoping that the people in the car weren't going to pull me in and drive off with me. Thankfully, I'm here to tell the story and no little old ladies were harmed by me or my flashlight.

Once I was finished directing traffic, I went to the conference center and took my seat. I was amazed to see so many people attending this conference. I'd guess the number of people in the audience to be somewhere between 150 and 200 people. 150 to 200 people in emotional pain. It was almost palpable.

The second speaker asked people to raise their hand if they were experiencing grief for categories that she went on to mention. Parents (raise your hand). Siblings (raise your hand). Spouse (raise your hand). Suddenly my heart lurched. It was almost as if a freight train had hit me. I looked around the room and saw many people that had lost their spouse this year. Some of them were my age. Some of them younger.

I've been very cavilier about that topic in recent conversations. Yes, I adore my husband- but I know that I'd go on. I've lived for 44 years without him. I'm not his siamese twin. I could live after him. Or so I thought. Somehow, seeing these people raise their hands brought a bunch of feelings to the surface. It's as if while raising their hands, they were throwing their loneliness out into the room. I could feel it. Worse, I could imagine it.

Then, "raise your hand if you've lost a child". Boom! I was hit again. I looked around the room and saw grieving parent's who have lost children. Based on their age, I could surmise that some lost adult children, and some lost probably very young children. I internalized that as well. What if? That would rip me to my very core.

During intermission, I wandered around the room and mingled with these people who have lost loved ones. They seemed almost desperate to tell their story. I wanted to cry right along with them. It was if I was a sponge soaking up all of the emotion in the room.

The end of the seminar provided us with a rememberance ritual. We lit candles and gave thanks for the people that we've loved who have passed on. We also acknowledged the people who would grieve upon our death. It was lovely and thought provoking.

There were a lot of tears in the room tonight, many of which were mine. Some people might wonder why I'd want to subject myself to such raw emotion; wonder why this experience cements even more my desire to serve in this part of Hospice. I honestly don't know what pulls me here. I just know that it's where I belong.

My cousin recently sent me a letter which included a tribute about his friend. It was lovely; poetic really. He's graciously given me permission to post it here.

I just read your sad section regarding your friend with ovarian cancer. An old, dear friend of mine ; we grew up together; passed away of cancer July 4th, 2003.

It took a long time to "get over" Kathe. I think one finds an appropriate place in one's mind for such, rather than ever "get over" it.

Kathe was poetry. Beautiful beyond description and creative (she was the set designer for "The Young and the Restless," and 23 movies including "Country Bears," "The Naked Gun," and "My First Mister.")

When we were kids, I never told Kathe how much I loved everything about her. I wish I had. She died as she lived, on July 4th 2003, with fire works.

I've attached some photos of Kathe's sets. If life was a trading card, I'd give mine in a moment so she could have hers back. Before she passed away, she sent me the verse imposed on the photo.

-B

My co-worker and I had some fridge cleaning fun last Thursday. There's no way I'm going to volunteer to do such a filthy thing unless I get to document the vile conditions in my blog. So for your pleasure, here are the gory details:

Stinky Fridge Chronicles

Caution: This page includes a lot of pictures. Not recommended for slow modems.

Note: Slow modems are not recommended, period. *snicker*