Dreamed last night that Spikeylady got a job at my company (but only 15 hours week), while for some reason Bathtubgin was off to an interview wearing a fluffy gray wig.
I was asking my sister what her older son thought of Obama, and while she gave me a detailed answer about her son's response to Obama's stance on "the issues," she skipped what I wanted to hear about, which was whether or not he found Obama an inspiration. This morning I was wondering if her younger son found him inspiring, then realized he was so young that he would grow up never knowing a time when a black man couldn't be president. Now, _that_ was inspiring.
Two mornings ago I was sitting at breakfast and J asked me how I'd slept. "I'm still tired," I said. "I blame the penguins." "They are frequently at fault," he responded.
It is now probably time for me to not be wearing jammies and see about breakfast.