Last night I woke up either every 45 minutes or every 90 minutes after having some kind of bizarre alternate reality dream. I only recall the final dream I had. In this dream Josh kept stealing my sweaters, which was annoying the hell out of me because not only did I need them due to it being cold outside but I didn't want them back because Josh smells like a 14 year old boy, and that means, well, smells. I love my sweet baby armpit Josh, but I do not want to smell like him.
Today, like practically every day I am dragging myself tired because of all the dreaming last night. Tonight I'll put a pad and pen next to my bed and that will probably insure that I have no dreams at all. That's how I roll folks.
Thanksgiving will be different this year. No family outside the five us, pal and his husband and two lake neighbors who are not of the same political persuasion. I think we can avoid talking about politics. The sentry was going to come with her husband, son and grandson, but the son did something to his knee and is now awaiting surgery. No stairs for him. Can't come to our place. It would be very difficult.
For the first time in forever we will all fit around my table with no added on tables or extra chairs smashed in. It's gonna be weird!! Also, I bought excessive amounts of turkey before the sentry and her crew cancelled so now I have twice as much turkey as we could possibly eat. That's fine though. I like turkey leftovers.
I've been preparing photos for my big get-together with the NY editor and I have purposely kept my whole series I shot on utopia out of the running. I feel like that is a completely separate body of work and now that I am not in school with advisors who do not teach I can do whatever I want with my own work and that feels freaking fabulous! I will own up to a little tiny pang of jealousy when the current students were posting photos of their latest school session, but I think that is because of my very human ability to down play the pain of the psychological torture which was part of the whole process. Sometimes I realize that when I try to explain to people just how insane it all was that I end up sounding like the crazy one because it seems so unreal that someone in such a powerful/responsible position could get away with some of the things he gets away with. So, I stopped talking about it. Mostly. It depends on how much I've had to drink. Just Kidding! We all know that I don't drink, unless it is Thanksgiving and I am desperately trying to drink the husband's entire wine collection before we sell utopia.
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