Thursday May 12 2011

DREAM: I’ve joined an evil space alliance with a clan of aliens, but they don’t look alien, more like hybrid giant humans carrying lots of accessories. It’s understood that I’m a spy and found a way to integrate myself into the group without them knowing my counter objectives—theirs being to take over other planets. I’m flying around in space next to the leader of the pack—feeling the outer space air brushing by my face—such a cool moment seeing all this blackness and starriness surrounding me. We’ve landed somewhere—excavating through attic doors and tunnel spaces. At some point, the leader is reprimanding me for something, more like discussing something with me. He has a black nightstick in his hand, like a cop would have, and is attempting to put it down my pants because it was understood that he knew who I really was. I say to him, “I want to live. I want to be alive.” What I meant by that was that I want to have no boundaries and no limits and enjoy the gift of life. He doesn’t actually put the club down my pants. Maybe something got through to him.

Waking up around 3 p.m.

Breakfast: Plain Bagel with Cream Cheese. Orange Juice.

Anthony: “You could make yourself seem intelligent just by looking at the context clues.”

Me: “George Clooney reminds me so much of myself.”

Business—figuring out bills—this and that.


Stretching and Yoga to the sounds of Ravi Shankar.

Google work.

All the kids just came back from Kevin’s softball game—Kevin’s jeans and jersey are covered in dirt—his team won both games.

Cooking up dinner while James shares his customer stories of the week from GEICO.

Dinner: Teriyaki Chicken with Rice. Perogies. Broccoli.

Anthony: “Dinner with the FAM!!”

Margot stops by with cheese and crackers. All of a sudden donuts are a great idea in her mind and nothing will substitute, not even my suggestion for the ice cream we bought yesterday. We take the drive to Holland Road where the only 24-hour donut place is, Dunkin Donuts. As we pull up to the window to wait for our half dozen, she uses her one-word antics identifying whatever she’s anticipating, “Donuts!” A huge smile on her face—reminding me of a little kid—emotions out on her sleeve—so cute.

Arriving back home—James and Anthony placed orders with us for Boston Cremes.

Making love in my room.

Newspaper route—taking Calum out with me—showing him the ropes. Coast to Coast AM. Coffee.

Sleep 6:20 a.m.

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