I had one of those dreams this morning where you think you’re already awake and cannot convince yourself otherwise. This despite my hair changing, as I watched it, from a truly excellent Rogue streak to being shoulder-length with blunt bangs cut to an equally excellent 20′s style bob, all three styles looking fantastic on me. I was *sure* I was dreaming, to the point that I actually asked Ted (in the dream) if this was real, because I couldn’t figure out how my hair would be doing that if it was real, and then, in a fit of brilliance, I remembered that if you pinch yourself in a dream you’re supposed to wake up. Or it’s not supposed to hurt, or something, which is how you know it’s a dream. So I actually pinched myself in the dream. And it didn’t hurt particularly, except in the dream it was clear my brain said “That’s a pinch, it’s supposed to hurt, so it hurts,” so it did even though it didn’t *really*. When I eventually actually awakened, I was very, very confused, and felt vaguely as though I have been invaded by “Inception”.
A few weeks ago, I created a masterpiece of modern architecture. Please note the clever use of common household materials such as straws and plastic wrap. Observe the striking use of color. Admire the organic feel of the structure.
See how, as if by design, a section was left easily open-able in order to water the tree:
I’m so proud. I may call Kevin McCloud*.
Actually, the orange tree within sprang up so fast once it had been re-potted and put into my Masterpiece of Modern Architecture that I’m going to have to build a new Masterpiece. I’m going to get some of those K’NEX thingies (they’re like Tinker Toys, only plastic) and build a much better greenhouse. I’m not quite sure what I’ll use for the plastic. Perhaps plastic wrap again, although I’m open to better (but equally inexpensive) solutions.
A few days ago Mom and I were talking about sweaters that she’d knitted, and she mentioned that Dad has a screensaver on his computer which runs through all the photos he’s taken in the past five or so years. “All of us,” she said, and I expected her to say, “are wearing sweaters I made in at least one of the photos.” Except what she actually said was, “All of us have aged noticeably in the photos. Tom, me, Deirdre, Gavin, Ted…everybody but you.”
She paused, and then, conversationally, concluded, “Bitch.”
*laughs and laughs*
*This is a joke that will probably only work on this side of the pond. Sorry. :)(x-posted from the essential kit)