Licorice Dreams

Normally I don't really remember anything about what I dream during the night.  I just don't.  I have no idea what that says about me -- I'm sure I do have dreams, I just have no clue what they are once I am awake.

If my alarm goes off in the morning and wakes me up (I'm usually up before the alarm), I sometimes remember a bit of them. It really all depends on how much the alarm startled me.  Usually it is something kind of "meh", like a giant spider was chasing me.  That doesn't surprise me.  I f%*king hate spiders.  They creep me out.  It may also mean that I have read Lord of the Rings or Harry Potter one too many times, both of which include gigantic spiders which are the fuel for nightmares.

This morning I woke up feeling nice and relaxed, remembered a bit of my dream, and it made no sense.  It was odd.  It wasn't terrifying, or erotic (get your minds of the gutter, friends), or even a freaky dream where you are convinced your teeth are falling out or something and you absolutely cannot proceed with the day until you check a mirror.  It was odd because it seemed more like something a kid would dream about.

Are you curious now?  I'm going to assume you are if you are still reading at this point.

I was at a street fair or festival of some sort, and I was at a table filled with all these different bowls of licorice.  There was black, red, shoestring, pull-apart: any kind I have ever seen, and probably some that don't exist except in the Willy Wonka-ness of my imagination.  There was a guy working at the table, but he didn't seem to be selling the licorice.  I never actually saw his face in the dream, just his hands.  He kept offering me different bowls of licorice to try, and then would ask me what I thought of it.  Every single one was amazing, like the pinnacle of licorice perfection.  I couldn't choose a favorite.  The hands just kept offering me different bowls, and even though I don't remember seeing the guy's face in the dream I knew he was smiling and happy.

And then I woke up, all happy and relaxed and comfy in my bed.

I will admit that I do love licorice.  Black licorice is my favorite, with a good cherry flavor being a very close second.  That being said, I have not had licorice in quite a while -- it's not like I ate a bunch yesterday and therefore dreamed about it all night.

Why in the world would I be dreaming about licorice?  I don't even recall ever dreaming about food, with one notable exception the summer I worked at McDonalds, but that was really more of a nightmare in which I dreamed I had worked an entire shift only to wake up and realize I actually had to go to work.  But I digress.

Licorice is a pretty random thing to dream about.  I figured there had to be more to it than just "I love  licorice!  Yay!"

So I Googled it.  I love Google.  Some might say a little too much.  They already know all of the sordid secrets of my search history, and could probably own my soul if they ever decided to use that information for evil.  Throwing a search for "dream of licorice" into the mix is a drop in the bucket at this point.

The results were actually pretty interesting.

Top result:

"To see or eat licorice in your dream suggests that you are enjoying a little sweetness in your life. You are in a relaxed state of mind. Alternatively, the dream may be a metaphor for someone who is genuinely sweet and kind-hearted."

That sounds pretty good!  Does that mean I am sweet and kind-hearted, or the dude who was offering me the licorice (and whom I couldn't see) is the nice one?

Next result:

"To dream of red licorice candy represents pleasure you get from toying or experimenting with something. 

To dream of black licorice candy represents enjoyment being awful or terrible to other people you are toying with. Pleasure derived from playing or experiment with something you get no personal benefit from. 

Example: A girl dreamed of having a jar of red licorice sitting on a shelf. In waking life she had just lost her virginity and was feeling good expecting to experiment with other kinds of sex."

WTF?  Hold the phone -- how did this go from happy and nice to potentially being a horrible person that screws with people for no reason?  I dreamed of all kinds of licorice, so what the hell does that mean?  

Third time is the charm:

"Licorice in a dream represents nostalgia and a connection to your childhood. You may desire a little indulgence in the sweeter things of life. Take time to enjoy the little things which give you joy. Embrace pleasant memories."

Okay, so we are back in happy land again.  The childhood thing makes sense.  I like this one better than the previous result.

Just to be fair, let's even it out and look at the fourth result:

"To see or eat licorice (of any color) in your dream symbolizes the joys and special treats in life.

It may also represent indulgence, sensuality and/or forbidden pleasure."

Well, that didn't clarify anything.

I'm not looking at any other results.  If you are just dying of curiosity, you can continue reading on your own. Click me to see more results!

So what have we learned today, friends?  Not much.  Apparently I am relaxed, I enjoy the sweet things in life, should embrace what gives me joy, and/or may want to screw with people for my own personal enjoyment.  Also, licorice appears to be way more sensual than I ever thought.

It may also mean that I just really want to eat some licorice and should go buy some.  I might just do that, but it will remain a mystery to you.  Now that you are privy to the deep, dark secrets of licorice dream interpretation I'll leave it to your imagination as to which color I might go for.

**Almost forgot: Follow up on my door situation, which I realize none of you probably care about, but I'm going to tell you more about anyway.

The door did not, in fact, split in half or splinter to pieces.  Temporary fix is in place, consisting of painter's tape over the cracks to try to keep out the cold air without damaging the wood.

Keeping it classy.

I went with a contrasting blue color, as that was the only option I had on hand.  It gives it that nice "just got mauled by a large dog" ambiance, don't you think?  

This Might Be a Problem...

Well, there isn't really a might be -- it most definitely is a problem.

It's been a cold winter.  It's very cold now.  Just looking at my phone makes me want a cup of hot cocoa.

Feels like -20!  And to rub it in, an igloo picture.  Nice.

I've noticed that it feels cooler in my kitchen than the rest of the house.  I haven't really paid much attention to it.  I have an older home, and I don't think there are as many heat vents in that part of the house.  I figured it was one of the quirks of an older home.

Tonight, for whatever reason, I forgot to turn off the light on the back porch. Nothing major, but it led to a rather interesting discovery.

 I had been in the kitchen getting a drink.  I turned the kitchen light off on the way out of the room, and that was when I realized the porch light was on.  I started to cross the room to turn off the porch light, and I noticed that the back door looked a little odd.

I couldn't figure out exactly what it was a first, and then I realized that I was seeing light through cracks in the wood of the door.  Well, shit.  That can't be good.

To be fair, I think the door has always had these cracks since I bought the place, but they had been sealed.  I'm pretty sure the door is original to the house since all of the woodwork matches, so circa 1935.  I have never seen light shine through the door before.  I forget to turn the porch light off all of the time, so I would have noticed.  

I tried to get a picture of it, but it didn't turn out well enough to show the light in the cracks.  This is what the door looks like though:

See the cracks in the left panel?

So, I'm thinking that the now-open cracks are why it feels so much colder in the kitchen.  I'm guessing that the prolonged, very cold weather has made the wood contract and the cracks have widened. 

Now I'm going to be paranoid all night that the door is going to crack in half, or splinter.  What do you think will happen?  Imagine your own worst-case scenario, then assume it will probably go through my mind at some point tonight when I am trying to sleep.

Silver lining: it's so freaking cold that no one is going to be out tonight, so very little chance of a criminal randomly deciding to kick-in my already weakened back door to rob and/or axe-murder me.  (Yes, that is the way my brain works.  There wasn't a particularly high chance of either event happening in the first place, but it's even less thanks to the frigid weather.) 

On that happy note, I'm off to try and get some sleep. 

How many days until Spring arrives? 

Are You Talking to Me?

So I was in the store earlier today, waiting to check-out and minding my own business.

From across the store this guy starts yelling, "Hey!  Hey you!"

Everyone turns to look, and I immediately dismiss it because I don't recognize this guy or his friend who was trying to get him to shut up. 

Dude keeps yelling. "Hey Blonde Girl!    Hey!" 

His friend must have been trying to reason with him, as the next outburst that  could be heard across the store was, "But I do know her!  She works at the library!"

Okay, so now I'm a bit intrigued. I turned around to scope out the people in line behind me, fully expecting to see a coworker there. Nope. 

Dude is still going. I finally realize that he might be talking to me.  I think I even pointed to myself to confirm that Mr. Yells-a-lot was really addressing me. 

He was. 

"See?  I told you I know her!  She works at the library!"

I think I waved back. I don't really remember.  I didn't recognize the guy at all, but I really wanted him to shut up and hopefully not follow me out of the store. 

I finally made it to the cashier, and he was equally as confused as I was.  I felt the need to explain that I didn't really know Mr. Yells-a-lot, and wished the cashier good luck. 

And then I left, while Mr. Yells-a-lot was nowhere in sight.  No way am I dealing with that when I am not at work. 

I've been called a lot of things by patrons, not all of which have been polite or friendly.  Blonde Girl, however, is a new one -- one that I don't think anyone else will be using.  

Friends, I realize that might be confusing for some of you who don't actually know me. "Blonde Girl" would be a pretty generic reference to say no one else would ever use.  While I don't normally participate in the whole selfie scene, I think I have to include one here so you fully grasp today's weirdness. 

Hi there!  As you can now see, blonde is not usually a word used to describe me. 

I'm going to take this as evidence that strange things happen on Friday the 13th. 

Snow Day!! (Featuring Small Yard Problems)

I'm not going to lie -- I love getting a snow day from work as much as kids love getting them from school.  An extra day off always rocks!

You might remember that a blizzard hit the North East recently.  We got really lucky and got very little snow compared to those just 50 miles to the east.  This time around?  Not so lucky.  Most areas seem to have gotten about a foot so far.

Now, I realize if you live in Buffalo, for example, you are probably laughing your ass off at the thought of a foot of snow being qualified as "a lot".  I get it.  I went to Brockport, I am familiar with the horrors of Lake Effect snow.  It's one of the main reasons I chose to move back down here after graduation.

I just finished getting cleared out.  My awesome neighbor Walt had already come over and cleared my entire driveway once with his snow blower!  I had no idea!  I owe that man some Heineken.  My father came over with his snow blower and cleared it all back a second time.  I basically just had to do the steps.  I am a lucky gal!

I am now hoping we don't get more snow any time soon.  I'm about maxed out on space to pile it already.

For those of you who don't have tiny front yards:

That's my Dad, trying to stack up the snow better.  He's literally standing in the street at that point.

The piles are already nearing Small Animal Ski Slope proportions

The back yard isn't faring much better.  It has become the dumping ground for most of the snow from the drive way.

Ignore my lovely "shoveling out" ensemble, please.  I'm standing in the end of an area my father plowed out to reach the bird feeder.  It's about even with my knees.

Somewhere out there is my snowman.  I can't even see his jaunty cap!

Once we got my mess under control, my Dad cleared out the end of Walt's driveway for him again, and made a path from the house to the street for my neighbors across the street.  Walt & I seem to be the only ones on the street who have bothered to clear out so far.

Not too terribly long after this, when I was back indoors getting warm again, the plow truck came through.  I swear they have some uncanny ability to know when you have finished clearing the snow!  Don't see them for hours, but as soon as you finish -- there they are.  I'm being to think they have secret sensors, or hidden cameras.

Screw it.  Between my shoveling, Walt's efforts, and my Dad's work -- that front walkway has been cleared 4 times now.  It is what it is.  I give up.

Good thing I had a snow day!