Happy BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRTHDAY dear DEIIIIIIIIIIRDRE! Happy birthday to YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOU!
I am attempting to introduce this thing called a “weekend” into my life. My understanding is that “weekends” are like mini-vacations (which are not, it seems, tiny versions of where the Pope lives, after all) and come around every days. We went grocery shopping this morning. Ted said this was normal “weekend” behavior. I find participating in typical human rituals fascinating…
We went into Dublin briefly yesterday. While having lunch, we saw James Cromwell. At least, I did. Ted is quite certain the guy wasn’t Cromwell. (Ok, ok, it wasn’t, if IMDB is right about his height, because the man we saw was *not* six foot five, although he was tall.) Sure looked like him, though.
Does anybody else get Natalie Portman and Kiera Knightly mixed up when they see giant posters of their faces advertising their next movies? If I had a plot I might write a screenplay revolving around this…
Last night I had a very weird dream that I was swimming, and my right-arm stroke was fine, but my left-arm stroke would only go halfway, and then my arm would crumple up in a most distressing and powerless fashion. Did it both in freestyle and backstroke. Eventually I woke up and discovered I was lying on my right side with my left arm flung out behind me in an extremely awkward and damned uncomfortable fashion. The joint still hurts! I must’ve been sleeping like that a long time!
miles to Isengard: 237.4