Why I'm not all packed yet
The van is booked for tomorrow AM, so I really should have everything all squared away by now, but I don't.

I wish I had a good excuse.

But I don't.

One thing I do have is this incredible talent for ignoring really important things. I can push an uncomfortable thought out of my mind so fast, it would make your head spin.

Need to have your entire life packed into a box by 6pm? No problem, just go have a glass of grape juice instead.

Packing is just another thing for me not to think about.

Like my mother.

Ok, I can see that this is post is not going to be one of the funny ones, so I suggest you hit the Back Page button now.

My mother died over eight years ago, but in a lot of ways it might have just happened. Thinking about her, about the end, still hurts like hell.

Dreams. Have I told you about the dreams? For the first few years my mother would make drop-in appearances in my dreams, and it would surprise me. My dream self would say something like "aren't you supposed to be dead?" and then I would wake up.

For the next few years she would still appear, but I stopped being surprised. In my dreams it was like she had never died. I suppose I must have drawn some comfort from that. Maybe I needed her to be there.

Mum continued as a regular in my stock of dream characters, sometimes playing leading roles, but more often, as time wore on, she became something of a bit-player.

These days I hardly ever dream about her. I sometimes go for months without even thinking about her, and when I do, rather than mist up, I push the thought aside, and promise to "think about it tomorrow."

Just like Scarlett.

Being able to ignore the big things can be useful, but I'm not sure it's terribly wise, because eventually tomorrow does come. And tomorrow is not just another day.

Stolen prayers
Three posts in one day? Can't remember the last time I did that, but once in a while you find something so fantastic that you just can't help wanting to steal it and pass it off as your own share it with others.

For the record, in reproducing this piece, I am not offering any political commentary on the various rights or wrongs of the current conflict. I'm still very much in the undecided column on that one, but one thing I cannot stand is hypocrisy, and there's an awful lot of it flying around these days. Mark Twain could smell hypocrisy a mile away. He wrote his short story The War Prayer as a satircal response to Philippine-American War of 1899-1902. Here is the actual prayer contained in the story. Enjoy.

"O Lord our Father, our young patriots, idols of our hearts, go forth to battle-be Thou near them! With them, in spirit, we also go forth from the sweet peace of our eloved firesides to smite the foe. O Lord our God, help us to tear their soldiers to bloody shreds with our shells; help us to cover their smiling fields with the pale forms of their patriot dead; help us to drown the thunder of the guns with t refuge of the grave and denied it -for our sakes who adore Thee, Lord, blast their hopes, blight their lives, protract their bitter pilgrimage, make heavy their steps, water their way with their tears, stain the white snow with the blood of their wounded feet! We ask it, in the spirit of love, of Him Who is the Source of Love, and Who is ever-faithful refuge and friend of all that are sore beset and seek His aid with humble and contrite hearts. Amen."

Thanks to Dominion of Skeptical Blog for reminding me of this fantastic piece.