I have lots of crazy dreams; I suppose everyone does, and this seems like as good a place as any to record them. I don't remember my dreams from last night, but in the past week I've dreamt of a trip to China with special vomit seats (George Clooney starred as Bill in that one -- it wasn't sexy or anything, just George, but he was Bill) and Rachael and I working at a large blue warehouse, selling souvenirs. Or riding past the place they sold them on a little dunebuggy thing. Or was it a horse?
I also need to write more. I miss writing and forget to do it, forget that's why I became an English major, forget there was a reason for doing that and not going to school for what they called at that time a "marketable degree." I've been able to market myself so far, mostly by luck, I think, but it can't hurt to get my chops back up. My 9th grade English teacher scrawled "You write a mean sentence!" across my position statement on why the no-shorts dress code did not support the fashion of the day (I'd been sent home for wearing a skort, the very same skort I'd worn to EASTER SUNDAY SERVICES, for chrissake, and who were the Magnolia High School administrators to tell ME that I couldn't wear something permitted in the house of the Lord?!).
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