Hi, I am part of the sad little percentage of humanity that does not like holidays. They completely drain me. Oh, well, and too bad. Humbug.

So, my sister, who always brightens my day, texts the following:

I dreamed u went to work with me and fell off the top of the 2 story staircase and u were hurt and all of a sudden u turn into mystery monkey and ran down the hallway. hahaha

KEM here, I'm so glad my blogs are seeping into the deep recesses of my readers' minds, causing hysterical nightmares.

I answered, Good. thats my blog tomite haha

Sister: it was hysterical....so real and shoking and terrifying.

(In reproducing texts I leave spelling and punctuation intact, it adds flair.)

Now I have to worry about turning into Mystery Monkey in my dreams tonight. That would be scary. But if I do turn into him, I'm going to carve out a permanent nest in Driftwood, in some cozy clump of bushes . . . much like my friend Brooke and I built a fort in the thick tangle of bushes around her banyan tree when we were kids. Oh boy, I have to talk about Brooke and her amazing house and yard sometime. A kids' paradise. Once my temper flared and I marched over to her yard and rolled up my carpet (a scrap of bright green rug left over from a bedroom at my house) and collected my little things from the fort and thought I was really making a statement. But then as I was stomping off, her mother happened to see me and asked what I was doing. Not sure what I said, but I held my head high and answered something tricky like, I'm taking my things home. Feeling ashamed the whole time. Like the time Maryann's mother served soup for dinner and I jumped up from the table in a rage and rode my bicycle home like the Wicked Witch of the West. Have I told you that one yet? She called my mother and said, Why, I just don't know what happened to Kathy. I'll tell you what happened, whoever heard of serving soup for dinner? Even though I do it myself nowadays.

Well, like my DTD stated years ago, I think my mother is bi-polar and forgot to tell me. Now, there's a book title: I Think My Mother is Bi-Polar and Forgot to Tell Me.

So, wait until she's a mother. I keep telling her to do things better than I did. I always fall back on, We're all doing the best we can with what we have (or, in my case, don't have, which would be emotional equilibrium). But I'm working on it, right, isn't that what we're supposed to do, work on our shortcomings?

Good grief, the Rays allowed the opposing team a perfect game. Yikes, but the only good thing is the pitcher's mother had died and he was raised by his granny, or something. So, nice for him it happened on Mother's Day, too bad it happened to the Rays, though. Mike says it's so embarrassing. He basically woke me up from my Mother's Day nap by coming upstairs and announcing, The Rays not only lost, but the other team pitched a perfect game against them, it was pathetic, they were putrid, and so on. Haha, the Rays are the best and the worst. Last year the only perfect game was against them, too. I think I got that right. Thank goodness the Yankees lost today, so we are still 1/2 game ahead and still Number One in the country. But not for long if they keep this sorriness up.

I was appalled by a picture posted on Mystery Monkey Facebook today. WAY OUT OF TOUCH. I let my sentiments be known by posting the comment, Please, spare us. Does someone always have to ruin something fun and good? Apparently, yes. But I don't see why the author of MM Facebook had to post it. Rotten apples.

Your own personal Mystery Monkey,
KEM