I did nothing yesterday.

Well, almost nothing...

I had planned to take Little Boy to see the new Disney film about the dog sled team, but it fooled me by not being out yet. So I did nothing else.

Finally, about 5:00, Hubband came home and I started dinner (lasagna) and afterward I made a birthday card for my step-brother.

I did spend one productive hour while waiting for the lasagna to bake. I wrote. Not in here, obviously. I was in a most foul mood and therefore didn't think you'd like to share it. No, I had some story spinning in my head and decided to write it down.

Here's the thing, I can spend hours sitting at the computer playing mindless games. Or putting together a puzzle. Or doing my scrapbooking. And all the while, stories are playing themselves out in my head. It's always been that way, even when I was little. Except that when I was little the stories would be acted out loud, frightening my mother into thinking I needed therapy. ( I did, but that's beside the point.) It's a form of entertainment for me, I guess.

This time I decided to put the words down and let the story lead me. I've now got a couple of pages and hopefully can move on from there. I'm not sure where the story will end up just yet, but I like how it's getting there.

I dreamt about my great-grandmother last night. To be truthful, she just happened to pop up in this weird dream I was having. It made me ache, though, to miss her again.

I was very lucky to have known my mother's grandparents well. I was an adult when my great-grandpa died (the only grandfather I knew) and six months pregnant with Little Boy when my great-grandmother finally let go and slipped out of her tortured dementia and into peace.

My Great Grandma was a great old dame. She wore "house dresses" but always with hose and high heels. She never wore panty hose, but the lovely silky hose that one could only buy behind the counter at Marshall Fields and finer stores of the like. Her feet seemed permanently curved to a two-inch heel, kind of like a Barbie, and she had good shoes (several pair with matching handbags) and black every-day shoes. She wore gloves whenever she went out, the kind that came in a flat box wrapped in tissue paper. (Toward the end of her life they became impossible to find.) She wore beautiful silk scarves to keep her coat from rubbing against her neck. She came from an era where one dressed to go to the grocery store.

In the dream she told me that she loved me. I'm not sure she ever said that in life, but I knew it was true.