Dream a Little Dream..

Ok so I had a wierd dream last night.

I dreamt I was back at my high school, helping out my old section for band camp. Since this is the time of year for band camp, that is all good. What I didn't realize at the time is the section was about 1/8 the size of the ones I had, and that they were familiar faces. I don't remember if they were actually IN my sections, or other people thrown randomly into the dream.

Anyways, it was really hot, so we weren't doing any marching drill outside, but were practicing some 'movements' for when we DID march. I had this whole rippling thing going I thought was really nifty. And then camp is over for the day, and they send us home.

I was supposed to get a ride with a friend, but her car was full so I decided to walk home.. back to my parents' house. It is only a mile or so from the school, and on a not-lonely road. I used to do this occasionally, so it isn't too off yet. Only about halfway home I look over the fence into someone's back yard and there is a coyote. I shuck a branch at him and he takes off.

I turn back to the road and immediately see a coyote pup snuffling his way towards me. And right behind him is papa coyote. I back away slowly, crossing the road (which is suddenly much narrower and dirt) and he follows. Once I hit the (nonexistant) sidewalk, he trots off the other way, scooping up the pup in his mouth and then disappears.

A man is walking up the sidewalk towards me and shakes his head in sympathy. He speaks to me in a foreign language (which I am assuming was French, though I am not sure why) and offers me a sip of wine from a dark red bottle he is carrying. He indicates it is just a SMALL sip, and I take a taste, barely more than wetting my lips. It is strong but sweet- none of the overly dry flavor a lot of red wines have. I hold it up.. it has an odd shape. The neck of the bottle is more octagonal than round, and the label has a wierd name on it. Carielle or something like that. Gold lettering, rather cursive. I hand it back to him, and he smiles. We go our seperate ways, but I am very interested in the wine. Where can I get my own bottle?

As I get home (which isn't really home, its like something out of a Bronte novel), I am still thinking about the wine. And am dressed in some long dress, and everything seems to be shades of red and brown; the dress, the leather on the furniture, the book bindings. The room is like a library, with a small table and several straight backed chairs. There is a woman at the table, nibbling on the food it holds, who I know is a close friend. We discuss the problems with the coyotes (definitely not wolves) and I mention the man with the bottle.

We do some research and come up with the name of the vintner, and she says there is a book by him somewhere here, I just know it. So we do an online library lookup for books and come up with the title "Hex Hen". And there it is on the top shelf. I climb up a ladder (difficult in a long dress!) and find it next to a bunch of other books that start with 'Hex'. I take the book down (again, red leather with gold lettering) and begin to go over it at the table.

At which point the ceiling disappears and a large reddish-green demon leans in and growls...


And then I wake up.

Does anyone have any Prozac?

Headcolds in August

... well they suck. That feeling, when waking mid-slumber, that something is going to come out of your mouth while sucking in the air that won't go down your nose is definitively "not fun".

But there is no time for self pity. I have to go through my household stuff. I have to get my car warranty reinstated from Europe (which I did last fall, but the company has no record of it). I have to find a new house (joy!). I have to do some minor maintenance to the old house. I have to tend an ailing and hallucinating writer (don't worry, I will take away all his pens first). I have to... *gasp* go to my grandmother's birthday.

Yes, my grandmother is having another birthday today. I think this makes her eighty-mumble. Not really sure. At any rate, shopping for her is like getting a tiny splinter out of the finger of an eight year old. Time consuming, difficult, and you think you will go blind looking.

I hope she likes what we got her.

Yeah Yeah I Know...

2 weeks without blogging. So sue me.

I have a great one from CNN today.

The relevant portion:

"But after 34 days of fighting, a cease-fire brought a fragile truce, with Hezbollah surviving and Israeli forces unable to score a decisive victory. Hezbollah leader Sheik Hassan Nasrallah has declared "strategic, historic victory" against Israel.
"We tell them (Israelis) that after tasting humiliation in the latest battles, your weapons are not going to protect you -- not your planes, or missiles or even your nuclear bombs ... The future generations in the Arab world will find a way to defeat Israel," Al-Assad said."

All I have to say is, what drugs are they taking, because I want some.

Israel tasting humiliation? When every push forward they made was like a hot knife through butter? When it was because Israel decided to acceed to the cease fire that one was allowed to be put into place?

Frankly, I think Israel should have put their fingers in their ears and just kept on going. Get rid of the delusional dogs once and for all. Let Lebanon make their own destiny without the influence of Hezbollah and that group's masters- Iran and Syria.

Is This Thing On?

"Dammit, C! Stop twisting my arm!"

"Confess! Confess!"

"Al-RIGHT already!...... oh wait... this thing is on?"

*multiple sounds of desk being straightened*

And here we are with our LibertyCon AAR.

I arrived safely in Hburg Thursday night, bummed with C and M, went to bed. Apparently, my subconscious is dashed cunning- C was chased out of bed at 3 a.m. by my snoozing snuggling self. What a wuss! So, I slept well, M worked all night, and C got about 2 hours of sleep. Sounds like a personal problem to me!

I start out driving, make about 5.5-6 hrs, hand off to M because C is scared of semis. Yet again, I cry 'Wuss!'. Great time down, lots of ridiculous chatter, and comments about taking pictures of Buicks on the way back to prove the old fart factor involved. C gets punchy, (well, we all were but she was the worst) eventually she falls asleep. We arrive in East Ridge at about 3:45.

Party party party... I went to a reading by Sarah Hoyt, very cool lady. Also ate food in Consuite and Barfly Suite, pestered people a bit, camped out on a couch and chatted with a bunch of people. Good peach mead too. Nummy.

Got to bed at Oh Dark Thirty, slept until about 10:30. Hotel still had the breakfast spread out, though much reduced, ate, went to a Pete Abrams panel.. another cool guy, though not much to say. Got out, went hunting for lunch. Nothing is open in East Ridge on Saturday afternoon- ended up at Hardees. PT Cruiser convertible is an interesting car.

Was feeling sort of blah, took a nap, went to another panel, Mike Z. Williamson, very entertaining lemur king. All hail! Dinner at Japanese place- not very good. Quick return, and naptime again. Then down to the party! (I know, not enough details. Too bad, suckers!) Tequila, really awful commentary by a band singer, vending ice cream, much discussion on swords and different types of fighting, the sheer shock of meeting a child named after the Celtic goddess of war and death (what a name to live up to!), and an early demise myself.

Sunday, earlier up, breakfast with M (fun Spite and Malice player), the introduction of Eddie Izzard to N, then more cards while C bounces off the walls like Kiki on pixie sticks. We eventually herd her into the car and take off about 2:30, arriving back in Hburg that evening after a much more subdued car ride. Still some ridiculousness, and we failed to capture the Buick scene, but that bus driver totally deserved the new Name of Shame.

Glad to be home, need the rest!