In My Dreams

So far, this morning, I've relocated a small bee swarm from one friend's yard into another friend's yard -- from which a hive of bees absconded for reasons I don't understand, have emptied the dishwasher, made two breakfasts, ate one, had three cups of tea, roused five children (mine plus a buddy), read two newspapers -- but not the sports sections -- showered, peeked at the chicks, brushed my teeth, sent children to brush their teeth, read some blogs, gathered some books for schoolwork, and now I'm pausing to do this.

But the very first thing I did this morning, according to my dreaming self? Well, I went to church at the church I grew up going to, where George Bush was preaching. Suddenly, he launched into Neil Young's "Southern Man," in an attempt to use the song to justify the war. This disgusted me, but what was more important at that moment was that my twin biracial sons were acting up. I think they were about 3, and I was trying to keep them quiet in church. So the three of us wandered to a back staircase, behind the choir loft, and found that half of the church wasn't being vacuumed regularly. Horrors!

Then I had an interesting conversation with my sister and a Nobel Laureate who happened to be hanging out on this unvacuumed staircase, and then I woke up. Whew! That's probably more work than I'm really up for. I deliberately don't try to figure out where these dreams come from usually. I just enjoy them. But I am NOT enjoying having the song -- in George Bush's voice, no less -- stuck in my head this morning.

One thing I did not do this morning was knit (yet). Yesterday I managed a few rows, including ripping and redoing three or so. I can mostly knit and talk, but not without casualties. Just for Allison, here is Almost Two Diamonds (out of five) Done!


Now I'm going to go buy milk and yogurt and then work out. More schoolwork and some sweeping somewhere in between. And I'm supposed to make a prioritized list of the "around the house" chores for the weekend. Thing 2 and I are going to unstick the sink she's clogged up with pistachio shells. I do not ask, I only respond.