I wanted to share this weirdly awesome dream I had so y'all could enjoy it, too!

My dearest friends & I (aka The Collective) were in a bar but on a Sunday morning, enjoying brunch. We were sitting in one of those large, round-ish booths, and there were several of them in the room.  The decor on the walls was musically-inspired, with pictures of musicians and lots of those framed albums they make when singers or bands sell a lot of records.  It was somewhat bright in the room, as there were a few high windows, letting in the warm sunshine.

I decided to explore the rest of the bar, so I walked through some saloon doors into another room, quite different from the first.  On my right was a small, about knee-high, bricked in area, with 2 mechanical (sort of like remote-control but really fancy & expensive) dinosaurs fighting.  On my left was a 6.5-foot tall T-Rex from "Toy Story." When I walked past him, his forelegs flailed around and he said, "Oh! You scared me!" And I had to walk past him, as in the center of the room was another, much larger pit where people could quite literally wrestle alligators.

Past that took me into yet another much smaller and much quieter room.  It had a circular area in the center, slightly elevated, with a few chairs scattered around it, music stands, a couple of amplifiers, etc., where local musicians or bands could play or people could get together for a haphazard, impromptu jam session.

Through another set of doors brought me to the fourth & final & most epic room of the bar.  The walls were decorated with a wild assortment of colorful stuffed animals, creepy-cool taxidermy, and other weird, fun, and Gothic-inspired items.  The bartenders/waitstaff in this area were all dressed differently from the casual denizens of the other rooms, in white tuxedo shirts with black vests
& bow ties.  This room was my favorite because you could order any kind of dessert you could
think of, and they were all amazing and creative and heavenly.  I was ordering a rolled-cake, dark
chocolate with hazelnut vanilla buttercream, and a freshly-made raspberry purée drizzled over the
top. With it came a glass of champagne.  On the counters were bowls & jars of various
individually-wrapped, tiny treats, those that normally come like that.  For example, closest to me was
a bowl of bite-sized Walker's Shortbread Cookies, nearby was a jar of imported fancy chocolates, and farther down were 4-piece samplers of cocktail-inspired candies.

So, to sum up: dearest friends, Sunday Brunch, weirdly wonderful bar with good food, weird decor, amazing desserts & a unique experience. It was a really fun dream & if I were independently-wealthy, I would get that place built & running with a quickness!

Dreamily,
Lola

i don't understand...

Hello, darlings! It's late and I'm very tired, so this is going to be brief.  Just had some little tidbits floating around in my brain...hoping by writing them down, maybe I'll sleep better.

Being a woman in my (gulp)...oh, let's just stick with "in my 30's," shall we?...there is still so much about myself that I thought I'd have all figured out by now, and conversely, so much I thought I had figured out when I was younger that looks so much different from here.  So here are a few of those things:

I don't understand why I so often feel SO much sexier and prettier at night, when most of my makeup has worn off, and I'm in my standard uniform of jammie bottoms, a tank top, & a zip-up hoodie.  Something about my hair being just the right amount of dirty, the softness of my comfy clothes being so much nicer than most of my restrictive work clothes (beauty is pain & fashion is hard & all that, loves).  Maybe it's the invitation or promise of getting to be snuggled up in bed.  I don't get it at all.  Especially since, if I were to leave the house looking like this (I ain't too good for it, either), it would read less "sexy" and more "lazy college student" at best.  What gives?

I don't understand why, even if I can't think of anything that's truly stressing me out, even if the sometimes-throbbing pressure of being an adult lets up for a while, I still manage to be tense nearly all the time.  It feels like there's always something, even if it's just my sub-conscious gnawing on a thought not yet bubbled-up.  It's supremely frustrating not to be able to fully relax.

I don't understand why laying on my couch with my woobie, watching TV, is more appealing than nearly anything else I could be doing for that time.  Shopping is a close second, but the couch is definitely cheaper and usually more comfortable.  Incidentally, my woobie is a hand-made quilt I received as a gift from a student many years ago.  It's one of my favorite things.  I probably wouldn't try to save it if my house were on fire, but I would mourn its loss forever.

I don't understand insurance.

I don't understand willful ignorance.

I don't understand fishing shows.  Or hunting shows.

I don't understand why coffee is so amazing, but I know that it is.

I don't understand how my cat Rory can be such a total shit to everyone else, most especially the other cats, but be such a sweet, loving little monster to me.

I don't understand why it's so hard for me to get rid of magazines (just think of the potential art projects!!!)

And to wrap this nonsense up, I don't understand why I'm writing this when I could be snuggled up in bed with a good book.

So good night, loves, until next time.
Sleepily,
Lola