22 April 2008
My wife tells me that there is nothing crazy, strange, or weird about the many dreams I reveal to her. So after many apparently normal dreams that I thought were odd, I told her about one I had the night before last in an attempt to show her that some of my dreams I do consider normal.
I heard a cat crying outside of my window. When I looked out I could see its silhouette as it stood up like a prairie dog on hind legs. The cat jumped onto my windowsill, and pawed at the screen trying to open it to get in. Suddenly the cat walked through the window and was sitting on the inside. I picked it up and noticed it was smaller than my own cat. I brought the cat into the house and showed it to Mackinac and neither cat reacted. Then the cat was gone and the dream moved on to some other non-sequential event involving an FAA panel.
“That’s not weird.” She assured me.
“I know. That’s the point.” I replied “I only tell you about the good ones. I’ll have two or three meaningless ones a night like this one.”
On lunch, long after I had forgotten about the dream my wife told me that there was a stray cat wearing a bell and looking well kept at the back door. She gave it food and water and tried to keep it in the laundry room. The cat started getting a little antsy, as it was probably just a neighbors outdoor cat that had grown accustomed to panhandling for free food. Once my wife took it in though I imagine it realized the severity of its new incarceration. Shortly afterward she let it go. Later that afternoon the cat came back, it had jumped up on the sill where my wife let it in. “Shut up!” I exclaimed as she told me this. “I didn’t put it down!” She replied defensively thinking that I was upset for letting some flea ridden stray into the house where our cat would likely have killed it. “No the dream.” I told her. What are the chances of going out of my way to tell my wife about a mundane dream I had in order to show that I don’t consider all of my dreams strange, only for it to in some way come true?
1 January 2008
When I was a kid I used to spin the globe around as fast as I could stopping it randomly with my finger convinced of my new determined residence. Doing this always landed me in the Northern Hemisphere, and three out of four times in the Pacific Ocean.
Find Your Spot seems to be a bit more accurate if only on the surface. Going through eight or so pages it will figure out what location best suits you as well as any internet website can. My number one place was Salem Oregon, actually most of my picks were in Oregon, a few in Wisconsin, and my number two was Anchorage Alaska.
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26 December 2007
At the bookstore today I saw a Washington version of a Downriver rat with his significant other. She looked excited to be in the book store. He looked frightened in his Winston Racing denim jacket. “You know you can only read them one at a time!”
Oh this poor soul. Something tells me that he hasn’t read a book since To Kill a Mockingbird Cliff’s notes his sophomore year. Which reminds me why are we still using a public schooling system that was developed over 50 years ago, and modeled after a turn of the century class room setting?
I digress. In contrast to this delightful gentleman’s saying I have decided to track for my own record all of the books that I could only read at one time for this upcoming year. If you’re interested you could check out my bookends here.
Also if you’re interested, and you obviously read seeing as how you’ve made it this far, you might also like this record label. Today’s eaves dropping reminded me of an album title, Lonely People Read A Lot. I can’t believe it’s been six years since we created that label, and its been over a year since I’ve spoken with the creator.
12 December 2007
Stationed in Georgia at the turn of the century I had a First Sergent who used to proclaim from the top of his lungs, “The woodpecker is the only animal on God’s green earth that smashes his face into a tree in order to eat!”
Every weekend we would hear this, and we would also hear that we were expected to be like the woodpecker. “Hooty Hoo!” We would cry out with our hands on our hips in the fashion of a woodpecker bobbing back and forth. Inevitably our woodpecker cries would lead the first sergeant to sing a chorus of Proud Mary. “Sing it like Ike!” he’d say, “Rollin!” in his deepest Turner voice.”Rollin!” “Hooty Hoo!”
This was every Sunday.
10 December 2007
Weirdest work stories of the year – CNN.com
…Natural disasters, revolutionary technology, pro-athlete scandals and national calamities marked 2007 as an unforgettable year…