Be Careful, You're Talking to Mom

This morning I dreamed that I was at a friends' wedding with my parents and Owen. Strangely Leo and Ernie were nowhere to be found. The four of us walked into the banquet area which was connected to the church. Somehow both my father and Owen got separated from us (no surprise there). Owen was chatting up the DJ but I texted him and he came back over. I asked him to help find Grandpa and he did. My father sat down with us then started getting up and was confused. He started taking his pants off, I got them back on, then he wanted to move elsewhere and I was frantically trying to direct him and nod reassuringly at my mother who was staring at me pleadingly. I shook myself awake and I was covered in sweat. It felt so real. Horribly, horribly real. God Alzheimer's is terrible. Even in my dreams.

I laid there listening to the rain and realizing I could hear the noise of the marathon. It took me awhile to come back to the present day. In the meantime Rascal took up a post on my right side and Hattie on my left. I scratched them both and slowly relaxed. I haven't had a dream like that in awhile. I came downstairs and ate while perusing the news online. Eventually it was time for a nap. I KNOW but the day..... I woke up to the sound of Ernie and Owen trying to fix the frame of our couch. Lately now when Ernie starts grumbling about household or repair  issues I just helpfully say, "Maybe Owen could help you?" It's my new go-to phrase.

Speaking of Owen he just headed to the basement with an axe. I said, "Please don't use the axe unless your father's there." He just rolled his eyes.

The four of us went to lunch at Fries and Peanuts today. We haven't all four gone in awhile and in was pouring outside so it felt cozy. Owen and Ernie both talk nonstop and then complain about the other one. Leo and I shake our heads. At one point Leo was telling some anecdote about something on Imgur (I think) and Owen warned him, "Be careful Leo, you're talking to Mom." I queried him and he explained that they had to be careful what they joke about with me, "It's like those gingerbread people." I stared at him blankly. He said that we were driving through candlestick lane one Christmas and there were two lit up gingerbread people. One had a reporter's hat and one had an apron. He made some reference to the one with the reporter's hat and called it a him. Evidently I pointed out that we shouldn't assume gender because of job roles, etc. He was almost hysterical with laughter when he was telling me this. "MOM, they are GINGERBREAD people!" I primly pointed out that they were representative of our culture and Owen just cackled and grabbed my shoulders and told me that it was o.k., I would have been the gingerbread person with the reporter's hat.

Hmph.

My purple window boxes.

I think our Buddha feels very useful now that he holds extension cords for us.