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Jill's Place
7 days worth of rants & raves

Monday, March 15, 2004
Such a busy weekend. Last weekend I had made an upholstered headboard and side piece to fit behind Lauren's twin bed, against the wall. I used a beautiful floral fabric, perfect for a little girl's room. It's a white background with tiny flowers in yellow, pink, and purple, with green leaves. On Saturday morning, I decided to use the excess fabric to make a curtain for her window. But the green of the fabric didn't match the green of her walls. I wasn't pleased with the finish on her walls anyway, so I decided to repaint her room. Mom spent the night with us on Saturday, and babysat L while Mark and I went to Louisville to dinner. Sunday morning, Mom, Lauren, and I headed out to Home Depot and picked out the paint. It's called English Meadow, and it's a gorgeous light sage/mossy green. Of course, the drawers on her bed and dressers, as well as the shelves on her bookcase, were all the old grassy green. More painting. Fortunately, I like painting, and it turned out quite nice. It was so cute, too. Lauren "helped". She actually did quite a nice job. I bought her a little one inch brush and let her go to town on part of a wall. She was very careful, and didn't spill any. And so proud that she painted her own room. I don't often have dreams that I can remember - I never have. But last night I had a doozy. It was a replaying of an event that happened when I was a kid, but with a very different ending. Here's the real version: When I was about 10 or 11, my parents took me somewhere out in the country to buy a 10 speed bike. I have no idea where we were, but it was out of town. My folks must have seen an ad in the paper. So I was taking it for a test drive, and ended up heading down the driveway of this farmhouse. The house was located on a busy road, set well back up on a hill. A big difference between that bike and the ones I'd had previously is that my old bikes always braked by reversing the direction of the pedals. Not so with a 10 speed, and I didn't know to squeeze the handles to brake. So I was headed down a steep hill into fairly heavy traffic, and I couldn't stop the bike. I clearly remember Mom's hysterical scream, and Dad running after me as fast as he could, with absolutely no possibility of getting there in time. I was frantically trying to work the pedals to slow down, and I could easily predict what was going to happen if I didn't stop. Cars were whizzing by directly ahead of me. I could hear Dad shouting, but I couldn't make it out. You know when you're riding a bike really fast and the wind is whistling past your head, blocking out other noise? Like that. I think I finally steered the bike into the grass at the last minute and basically fell down. I can only imagine my parents' fear that day. I don't want to imagine it, but I can, now that I'm a mommy. My dream last night was exactly the same as above except in the dream, I didn't stop. I'd prefer not to have that dream again.
3/15/2004 11:57:00 AM :: ::
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