Patralineal

Today I’m wishing happy birthday to the woman who gave me a love of reading, mad crochet skills, and a fondness for pie. Plus, she taught me how to milk a cow, deal with evil chickens (that's all of them, in case you were wondering), and make just about anything out of fabric scraps. And her molasses cookies rock.

You wish your grandmother was as awesome.

Homonym

I flew to Philadelphia today for work. My carry-on suitcase weighed about 50 pounds because I got to hand carry all of the handouts for the event. (They weren’t printed in time to ship.) My boyfriend kindly dragged my bag down the 3-flights of stairs from our condo to the car, and while wincing under the weight, asked if I was even going to be able to hoist the bag into the overhead bin on the plane.

Since I was walking away at the time, I yelled back to him, across the entire length of our condo complex,

"Have you seen my snatch? I think I can handle it!”

My boyfriend froze for about 5 seconds and then lost it.

Based on the reaction of our neighbors who were around at the time, I’m guessing they didn’t realize that I was referencing my proven ability to complete the weight-lifting move known as a snatch as evidence of my ability to lift a heavy suitcase above my head.

Things like this are why our neighbors hustle their kids past our door on Halloween. (Come back! I promise our candy doesn't contain razor blades!)

Imprudent

Dear Self-from-last-night,

You needed to drink an entire bottle of wine? Really? And basically skip dinner?

Just because Self-from-this-morning inexplicably woke up without a hangover doesn’t mean that was a good life choice. (Actually, I’m pretty sure it means that Self-from-this-morning is just still drunk.)

Sincerely,
Self-from-this-morning

Update: Self-from-this-afternoon can confirm that, yes, self-from-this-morning was definitely still drunk.

Vociferate

I would have woken up screaming last night, but when I clawed my way out of sleep the air was congealed in my lungs. This is uncommon, but not unprecedented. I have a ridiculously overactive imagination and a rich inner landscape, which often spill over into my dreams.

Only I don’t dream, I embark on epic quests. I have dreams so detailed and nuanced that they should be full-length feature films. I’m often fighting and running. I frequently battle evil. Sometimes I fall in love. Sometimes I revel in solitude. Sometimes I triumph. Sometimes I die. I dream almost every night and usually, when I wake up, I remember my dreams in all their Technicolor glory.

I also usually recognize that it was just a dream. Sometimes, however, it takes me a while to get to that point. Sometimes even when I realize it was a dream it was so deeply disturbing that I still can’t shake it off. Last night was one of those nights.