Dear Sir

Last night we fell asleep on the couch watching a movie (The Last Picture Show, which was excellent). Unfortunately, we stayed sleeping there until chirping birds woke us at around 4. It's not a comfortable night's sleep. Whenever this happens, I'm always aware that I'm uncomfortable, but unable to rouse myself to do much about it. Last night I dreamed that I sent Scott a letter requesting more space, explaining the unfairness of his body taking up more room on the sofa than mine. It was on special letter headed paper. He did not respond.

The night before, while sleeping comfortably in our actual bed (pillow top mattress + feather bed + down pillows + high thread count sheets dried in the sun) I dreamed there was a terrible storm forming. The clouds were dark and churning in the sky. The wind gusts were whipping the trees to and fro, and debris was flying through the air. It was eerily beautiful and I was enjoying watching it. I spotted a great blue heron using a broken off TV antenna as a surfboard to ride the gusts. I made a mental note to report this to the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds, as it would likely be of interest to their behavioral scientists.

Why don't I dream about Orlando Bloom like normal women?

I woke up from a very odd dream this morning:

I am meeting my friend Amanda, who is a comedian, for a drink. As we sit at the bar catching up, Will Ferrell comes over to say hi--apparently he and Amanda have become good friends as a result of her recent work for Comedy Central. They talk for a few minutes, and then he heads off. Next thing I know, Amanda and I are at someone's home, it's really late, and there's no way to get home. We decide to sleep there. There is a small twin bed which we decide to share, sleeping feet to head. It is uncomfortable and I lie awake.

Suddenly, Will Ferrell reappears. I sense he's stranded as well, and looking for a place to crash. I bury my head in the covers, pretending to be asleep. I want him to go away. But he slides into bed next to me. He realizes I'm awake and begins chatting a mile a minute. He asks me about my high school boyfriends, and then he tells me to run away with him. He plants a sloppy kiss square on my lips. I gently push him away. I tell him he's, uh, a really nice guy and all, but I love Scott. And besides, I don't even know him. He gets angry and calls me pathetic and storms off. The dream ends.

When I told Scott about it this morning, his response was that we needed to get rid of our copy of Zoolander.

My Inner Chicken

I had THE oddest dream last night. Here goes:

I had a throbbing pain in my right big toe. It looked slightly swollen. I wondered what was wrong. Next thing I know, I'd given birth, via the toe (?!), to 6 very pretty blue-ish eggs which were nestled in a decorative glass pedastal bowl on my kitchen counter. I didn't dream the actual giving birth part. There was the throbbing toe, and then the dream cut right to the eggs on display. I remember thinking that I had always expected my offspring to arrive via live birth, but I figured "oh well, some women just lay eggs."

The next thing I remember, only one egg was left and it was hatching. My sister was there and I called her over to watch. Scott was in the other room on his blackberry and said he'd be there in just a minute, he was finishing an email. I was unconcerned by this.

As my sister and I hovered over the egg, a fissure appeared on the top and out popped a tiny fist, all "power to the people" style. The egg cracked further apart, and out wriggled a small red being that looked exactly like a just born kangaroo before it crawls up its mother's fur into her pouch to continue its gestation. I remained unphased, and thought that motherhood was really something.

The dream then jumped ahead to a point where the little kangaroo thingie had developed into a fluffy, peeping yellow chick. It looked at me and batted its eyes. I placed a small silver crown on its head, as I understood was customary and in fact my duty as its mother.

Then I woke up.

I think a good part of the dream derives from our recent David Attenborough marathon, and in particular last night's viewing of The Life of Mammals. We learned about Australian fauna such as the platypus, the only mammal to lay eggs, and the kangaroo. And chickens come out of eggs. Scott had to deal with a few work emails while we were watching, and I also talked to my sister the day before yesterday. And of course like many other women in their early 30's I'm trying to figure out the whole having a baby thing.

But having cleared all that up, I'm left wondering: why my toe??

Spider Hiatus and the Wrath of the Brazilian Clipper Bug

I know I've been heavy on the spiders, but they seem to be everywhere these days. Take this cool Cross Spider that I found in the garden last night:

























I showed Scott my photos last night as I downloaded them to the computer. He actually stood back from the monitor, slightly behind me, as if shielding himself. He leaned in, face grimacing, and then he recoiled. "Ueugh! UEUGH!! Come on, why do you do it to me?! I don't want to look at those things--I'm going to have nightmares, dammit!"

Turns out I am the one who dreamed that a crate of "Brazilian Clipper Bugs" (name fabricated by my subconscious) the size of Scottish Terriers was accidentally let loose in our house. They were fast moving, aggressive, and equipped with venomous, lobster-like pincers. They chased us around the house; our only defense was Scott jabbing ineffectively with a broom. We were separated (strategically--the Brazilian Clipper Bugs also had super human intelligence) and I was cornered. I tried to call to Scott to come swat me to safety, but no sound came out. I tried again. Nothing. Finally, I managed to get a scream out, which woke both of us up at around 4 am.

So, no more spiders for a while.