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Week 47

I've been dreaming, on and off and especially this morning, into a place where Penny didn't die. There was some sort of mistake, and she's still here and still around. The stuff that happens is mundane, daily stuff. Nothing spectacular. Companionable, pleasant. Which is really what I miss the most.

Other parts of the dreamscape are more fantastic, of course; there was a good amount of the confused adventure, the deep conversations that don't make any sense at all when examined even in later dreaming, but the words didn't carry the real meaning anyway.

Back to the week in review, then.

Two weeks ago, I had an interview at Azad, and have heard nothing since. I'm becoming very annoyed; I've emailed the contact guy twice, with no response back.
They were pointed about making sure that I wasn't going to jump ship to some other company, and that I didn't have anything else that I preferred. I did not and do not, but frankly, I also do not have time to waste waiting for them to never answer. A this point I'm going to assume that they don't want me for the position and that they're too flakey to let me know about it; I won't hold my breath any further. I like their work model (embedded consultants), I like the background of the company, but frankly, their communication is somewhat lacking.

This makes the second job that I really wanted that isn't happening, and I'm becoming frustrated. Although, talking to Penny in the dream, I vaguely recall her saying not to worry about it, and actually meaning it. When she was here, she was a lot more likely to become worried about that; the long, miserable, slog from 2001 to end of 2004 were, for her, much worse. We had to sell things on eBay, and her various collectible dolls, the ones she had gotten to fund a cruise on our 25th anniversary, were the ones that kept us going. She died a month before that anniversary anyway, and we never had the cruise, and I don't think I'll bother doing it alone.

Thanksgiving... hm. I made cranberry chutney. I bought James Beard herb rolls and potato rolls from Beaverton Bakery. I made Scalloped Oyster Dressing with fresh oysters, a wonderfully simple oyster stew recipe, and oyster crackers; the result was exceptional, but not so good the next day, re-warmed in a microwave. It was merely good. We were supposed to get there early (by noon) to my brother's place - he got married about a month ago to his girlfriend of perhaps a year - and I thought that they would be hosting the meal. No, it was at her mother's place, so a parade of cars went crosstown to them, and we put everything together.
The turkey was flavorful but overdone and a bit dry (even the dark meat) and was pre-cut and served before we ever saw it. There was a prolonged, somewhat rambling prayer, about three minutes long that felt like thirty, which ended in a coherent, short grace. My family: Mom and Mitch, me, my brother Allen, my brother Casey as these are his in-laws, that's it. Her family: the mom, either her husband or father, I never figured it out (pleasant older fellow who is losing some of his cognition, or was just very tired), Casey's wife, her daughter (I think), and a pair of sons or grandsons, and a stray girlfriend or granddaughter in the throes of teenagerness, and a wife or livetogether of one of the sons or grandsons, and a really cute four year old girl which appeared to belong to them. Also, I think, a dog, but it wasn't there when food was served. There was a grownup table and a kids table, and the most mature and least rambunctious, noisy, and gross of the ones at the kids table was the four year old. Booger talk does not belong at a family meal. Vivid, descriptive booger talk from teenagers, especially not.

Friday I did not go anywhere near any kind of store, nor mall. Scary out there.

Sunday I was on for prayer team, arrived at church just at the end of the sermon, left before the recessional hymn (another one of those triggery ones for me).
Tuesday, I met with my Stephen Minister, arriving a bit late, but I had to take a nap, or I wouldn't have been safe driving. Afterwards, realizing that there was a dearth of food in the house, I stopped at Albertson's. It was about 4:30, the weather was rainy and it was dark, and I got a bunch of vegetables, and the eight-piece-all-dark chicken special. Unloading the car, I had flashbacks to January, and I've realized one important thing: no more shopping at Albertsons in the evening, in the winter. Fortunately I wasn't driving when they hit. Traffic was busy enough that it might've been problematic.

So. I also got the apartment inspection done; the manager is not happy that I have so many boxes, but (as I pointed out) I'm going through them as time permits, and this is a two bedroom apartment, rather than a two storey house with four big bedrooms and two huge living-room spaces and a fonking HUGE garage, and half our(my) stuff is being stored at a friend's place... which, I think, may have to cease soon.

And I want a house again, or at least, my own place that isn't rented with the money being poured away.
This isn't a bad place, but it isn't mine, or as much 'mine' as anything can be.