the dream

Regis had a dream last night that involved me fighting an alien who looked like an egg in a dentist jacket. There were lots of bad guys fighting and lots of bloody violence, of course. In the finale, I did the two-handed grab on the pockets of his dentist jacket and pulled them off, killing the evil alien entity Humpty Dumpty.

In the dream, they made a movie of the events and the premier was held at Patrick's. It was so crowded that Arnold Schwartzenegger and Maria Shriver couldn't get a seat. I wonder if they put their names on Hombre's waiting list.

I've read the account Regis wrote of his dream and my version is not exactly accurate, but he is he, after all, and I am I.

I ran for 45 minutes at the Pulse this morning, then went to yoga, the cumulative effect of which is to turn a person into a wet dishrag. I could hardly make it home. My friend Kris pointed out that the meditatively named "flow series" almost killed her. The flow series includes a bunch of down dogs, up dogs, planks and some such things. I demonstrated it for Regis on the patio and he agreed, yes, that could probably kill a person.

Our neighbors are packing up to drive to a southern state to get another dog. The little barking dog they have is the reason I don't keep a gun in the house. They think another dog might calm the barking dog down but this has the potential to end badly in a way that has nothing to do with me.

We cooked a beer can chicken on the grill tonight and aside from looking like a little mutated person perched over a can of Schell's Deer Brand on the grate in the grill, it was wonderful. We could have eaten it with our fingers right there on the patio but that would be barbaric.

I was going to stay up until 10 o'clock tonight but I think 8:50 is as close as I'm going to get.