Notes on a Frosty Morning

Otherwise known as Life in the Key of Brrr....

Last night, I was looking for something, can't remember what, and later, in my dreams, I looked again. I was at some kind of training class, away from home, that had something to do with building a small office building, where, after a certain number of lessons, we were supposed to Do Something. It involved eating breakfast at the cafeteria in the office building (inexplicably open, though the building was under construction), and they gave us a pass so that we'd not have to pay. Which is where the problem started. I had the wallet they gave me, with the pass -- I clearly remember that it was a green plastic pass, about four inches long, with decorative cutouts along one short edge. I looked at it, and then, in the logic of dreams, put the decoratively cutout end in my mouth, where it promptly snapped in two, with some crumbly bits dissolving like spun sugar. I took the two pieces out of my mouth and put them back in the wallet, thinking that it could be replaced, but when I went to pull it out again at the cafeteria, the wallet now had about fifteen compartments, all bulging with things, from stray parking receipts to what looked like a mortgage for a home in Wisconsin to sets of keys, all falling out and jumbled together. But I finally found the two pieces, put them down, put everything else back into the wallet -- and the pieces were gone.

It was a very strange dream.

My daughters team did very well last night. I don't exactly know how well, because color guard seems to have multiple layers, iterations, and variations, not to mention that the competition was for the band, not them, and it was them against others 'in their group', whatever that means -- but I guess when you go to a competition, and they say you're best overall, and best in three of six categories, one of which is 'auxiliaries', ie, color guard -- thats pretty good.

I mentioned that I was taping The Bourne Identity. There's a scene where he goes to a bank, opens a safe deposit box, and finds tons of interesting things -- money, passports, documents -- and a gun. I found myself wondering how he got the gun into the bank. It wasn't a bank the way we think of one -- more like a building housing secure storage, no tellers at their little windows -- but when I realized I was fixating on that, I thought 'time to go to bed'. Though I didn't get to sleep of any kind for a few hours, and, in fact, didn't sleep soundly until my wife came to bed. There's a tendency, I think, to romanticize that - aw, you couldn't sleep well without me, kitchy-poo?- but I think its more than you're just used to sensing someone next to you, feeling their presence, not to mention, their body weight on the bed. Speaking of which, we probably ought to be thinking of a new mattress. I hate buying that. Trying one in the store is always so weird -- here I am, all dressed, and I'm going to lie down in the brightly lit store on a barren bed, oh yes, quite nice. I recall reading years ago about how mattress companies really couldn't distinguish their product -- except for the cheapest, they were all reasonably comfortable -- and so they resorted to phrases. Ah, the Posture-Pedic! Nay, the Tempur-pedic! This one has Slumber Coils! That one has Coated Springs! Look, all I want is some sleep.

Or at the moment, breakfast.