Another crazy-busy weekend.. at least Saturday was....  As usual, I biked the 9+ miles to the Boathouse on Meadow Lake of Flushing Meadows Park, taught one sailing student for 3 hours (actually, I think they pulled us in shortly after noon, but I made her do a few more maneuvers she had been struggling with before we went in).

It was my parents' 45th Anniversary, so I had arranged to have them come by during the afternoon during the open sail/racing time.  The winds were very strong, coming from the northwest, and I helped some students get underway by pushing them along the dock only to get hit in the head by the boom, and then have the block get caught in my hair (which was tied up and under a hat, but still enough was sticking out to get caught and dragged).  

After a few moments of swearing-like-a-sailor panic, I unhitched myself and hurled them off the dock.  Unfortunately, that set the tone for that afternoon's racing, as everything that could go wrong for me managed to go wrong.

First, the dockmaster gave me a boat, but then it turned out the boat wasn't rigged up so I had to rig it up -- which takes 5-10 minutes, and the first race was due to start momentarily.  So that was that.  Then there was another club member, Ernie, who was given a boat that mysteriously lacked a boom.  Apparently the guy had rigged the entire hull of the boat before realizing this and was out of a boat.  So I invited him along with me.  

We finished rigging our boat and sailed off on a practice run while the first race was still going on, figuring we'd get back to the dock in time for the second race (races take about a half-hour to complete).  But I saw my parents on the dock, so I went in early and let Ernie take the boat.  Happily, my folks had brought some food for me, which I wolfed down just in time for the next race, where I was given another boat -- which turned out not to be rigged up!!!  

So I started rigging, but another boat came in and they let me take that boat instead.  In all the hurry and fuss, I slamed into the secondary dock with only a minute to go.  I managed to make a good start -- but in the wrong direction!!  (Normally we start the races from right-to-left, but today we were going left-to-right!)  Unfortunately, I didn't figure this out until I hit the second buoy -- and I literally hit it!  I slammed right into it and gave up.

I went back to the dock.  

The next two races went a little better and I managed not to come in dead last -- but it was very challenging because the wind direction kept shifting, and I was alone in my boat, working tiller, mainsheet and jib sheets by myself.  Another disadvantage to being alone in strong winds is that you only have your bodyweight to act as ballast, so you can't hike out during strong winds -- which means you have to spill your wind (and ultimately slow down) if you heel too much.

One guy who did very well had his two, smart, capable pre-teen daughters with him.  This is DEFINITELY the way to go:  you have four extra, agile hands to work your jib and bounce around your boat as the wind changes.  It didn't hurt that he was a pretty good sailor too...... :->

Anyway... my parents decided not to sail with me, but rented a rowboat instead, managing to take many pictures of me racing -- but I was so consumed with my boat that I couldn't see them at all (though I did look a few times).

We left the boathouse around 5:30pm and walked up to the Shea Stadium subway stop, figuring we'd take the 7 to the Q (normally we walk to 71st and take the F).  But we went so slowly, stopping to look at the whacky World's Fair Time Capsules (the 1939 one contains Beetleware???), we didn't board a train until 6:30pm.  

We arrived at Grand Central after 7pm and the Q was going local... we had planned to go back to my place, where I'd drop my folding bike and head out to Cheryl's Global Soul Cafe, near Grand Army Plaza, but it was so late that, as we passed by 23rd Street, we decided to go to Je'Bon instead (which hosts Bellyqueen's weekly bellydance show).

And I got my folks hooked on their Lychee Saketinis a few weeks ago, so it is now one of their favorite restaurants.

So I folded my bike, stuffed it its bag and headed off to Je'Bon for tasty Anniversary dinner.

To my surprise, there was a tribal bellydance show happening downstairs, but after the day's exertions, we decided to cool our heels at the quieter tables upstairs.

I came home last night to find this written on my door:



And this below it:



And this on the wall beside it (for emphasis, I guess):



Although it looks like she was in more of a hurry this time (or more strung out on booze or drugs or both), it is definitely the same handwriting as the person who graffitied my door in late May:

This time, however, I called the police. Apparently this is a crime and, if identified, I can have this person arrested. Of course, they asked if I had an idea who it could be -- and I have less of one now than I did in May.

Per my journal entry then, I thought it might be one of the nutty girlfriends of a neighbor I went out with last year. But he broke up with her in early June and I think he's out of town right now, anyway.

So now I'm thinking it's just a crazy person who has me confused with someone else.

Over the past month or so, many signs have appeared in the halls and lobby saying that we are now under video surveillance. So I pasted a sign on my door saying:

To the CRAZY PERSON who wrote this:

(1) You have the WRONG APARTMENT

(2) The Police have your handwriting

(3) This is Criminal Mischief

(4) You have been videoed

(5) You will be arrested!

Have a nice day!

I'm not much of a runner ... never have been ... I've always been kind of cloddy and lumbering, back to when I was a kid.  In fact, I remember I was determined to participate in a mile race when I was 8 or 9 ... and I got completely trampled at the start.... like splat on the pavement while the other kids stomped right on my back... My father scraped me up, crying but resolved to run the damned thing anyway.

My sister was always a good runner, but I'm lucky to do a single mile at 6mph.

But now I've been practicing... When I was in Philmont last week, I ran four of the seven days I was there, and on the last day made the full four miles.  I averaged about 11-minute miles the whole way, which is very good for me.

So I was feeling pretty good about myself when I lined up for the Challenge on Thursday... a much more civilized race experience than the one 30 years ago.

Not only did I not get trampled, I had to skip and weave past the slower runners, often scampering up the pummeled dirt trail along the right-hand side of the main drive.

Lots of people did this, so much so that when I'd pass the occasional person who was walking along the narrow path, I'd yell, "Don't hog the dirt!!" at them -- and really they shouldn't.  If they're going to walk, go on the grass; let the passing runners on the dirt -- it's better for the knees, anyway.

Anyway, last night was also an office party, so I'd had a drink or two as well as some food, but that didn't seem to do me much harm.

At  exactly one mile in, my stopwatch read 10 minutes. Perfect!

And then two guys from work came up behind me, one tall nice guy and a shorter dick.  Both pretty fried from the party.. 

They insisted on keeping pace with me, although, inspite of the booze, they were still much better runners (and they knew it).  The dick kept going, "So let's go!... Are you going to open her up on the last mile or what?" And I kept saying, "No, I'm doing 10-minute miles the whole way."

As we rounded the bend on the north end of the park (about 1.75 miles in), the dick said, "Well, let's go!" And I finally blurted, "You keep saying that, and yet here you still are."  He looked back, and I said, "You got a vagina under there or what?"

He sped off and I haven't seen him since.

Sometimes I feel bad about saying that sort of thing, but the truth is the only way to handle a misogynist is to beat them at their own game.  Even if you can't beat them in the race.

I finished the 3.5 miles in 36:40.  Yeah baby!!

... need soft desk toys.

Or no desk toys.

I was passing through Cooper Square last night, marveling at the Commerce Bank cubicle-farm fishbowl.  I can't imagine what it must be like to work with your whole desk on show -- on purpose!  I suppose the idea is to show how hard they are working on your money, but I would find that very distracting. I would be so worried about what people were thinking about what I appeared to be doing that it would be impossible to get any real work done (much less take a brain-break now and then and browse and/or blog for 5 minutes).

I wonder if they get extra "living mannequin" pay?

A friend of mine who had a recurring character on The Sopranos used to get beaten up in nearly every episode he appeared.  But he was happy about that; thrilled, in fact.  We'd go for a drink after the show and he proudly display his budding bruises.  "See that?" he'd beam, lifting his shirt, "That's stunt pay!"

So maybe it's the same for the Commerce Bank folks.  Or maybe the grunts in those cubicles aren't actually working with the money.  Maybe they are stunt grunts whose main job is to look busy, while the people in the back with the messy desks and rumpled suits do the real work.

Anyway.

So I crossed the street to the NYHRC at Cooper Square, and what do I see?  

In the giant fishbowl windows of the former Carl Fischer store that HRC now occupies, there is a massage therapist working on someone's back, and a trainer streching out his charge.

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think I'd enjoy having my legs spreadeagled by a trainer for the amusements of passers-by... nor would I find an on-display backrub all that relaxing.

But I suppose they think it works... And they have those Big Windows, so why not take advantage of them?

I slept pretty well last night -- without the help of Ambien (which has kept me going -- or, rather, sleeping -- during my various travels and recoveries therefrom). I've been weaning myself from it, so I've had quite a few restless nights this past week or so.

But this morning, like yesterday morning, I woke up just a few minutes before my alarm went off.  But it still took me 20 minutes to drag myself out of bed.  Don't know what it is about needing those extra few minutes of "healing time", but boy I sure do need them.  

I didn't have much time for dance and yoga, and still ended up running about 15 minutes late.  Better than usual, but still not great.

Last night I had a triple-header at the gym: first, Oreet's bellydancing class at the 50th Street NYHRC at 7:30pm, then I scooted off to my karate class, which goes from 8:30pm to 9:30pm at the 56th Street location.  Then I hopped on the treadmill and ran for about 25 minutes at 6.2mph.  

I'm training for the Corporate Challenge next month, which is only 3.5 miles, but I'm a pretty terrible runner so it will take me a while to get up to speed (so to speak).

I told them I expected to finish it in 35 minutes, since I usually average about 6mph on the street, but I'm really hoping I can get a time closer to 30 mins.  That would be fab-o.

When I got home last night around 11:30pm, I had to dial into work to take care of somebody's document problem. It was a minor issue, and I had already emailed the help desk and the word processing center with the resolution, but they didn't seem to believe me until I connected and physically showed them the resolution.  So frustrating. 

A car is waiting for me downstairs to take me to PURE rehearsal, but I'm in an uncharacteristically good mood I just had to put it down (or up, as the case may be).

Spent nearly the whole weekend in bed, though I was able to get some laundry done last night.  Watched the awesome flick  Thank You For Smoking, and just for the record, I LOVE LOVE LOVE Aaron Eckhart.  He is an amazing, amazing actor and it would be a dream come true for me to share even one tiny scene with him.

Thought I'd have to stay in again today, but woke up around 11am feeling well enough to dial in to work.

Got some stuff done, drank lots of herbal tea and had a light breakfast ... even did some Qi Gong and Yoga and lo and behold, I felt ever so much better.

So I got myself together.

Got some good news about my mortgage... something about which I'd been worrying for a while, and if it pans out, I'll put the details here.

Made it in to work -- just in time for the lush cocktail party welcoming in some new partners.  This one definitely made up for the beer-and-cracker debacle that was last year's.

Brought a bunch of sushi up to my desk which, with some 14 year scotch, lubricated my way through some administrative stuff, which I just finished a few minutes ago.

And so my chariot awaits!!!

On Friday I came down with an Awful Stomach Flu... I didn't realize how bad it was and went to the workshop with Ranya, Rayhana & Aszmara, but I was in such bad shape I ended up lying down in the back of the room for the last half hour.

Ugh.

Slept most of yesterday and worked from home today (for all my complaints, it's nice that they let me do that).

Still  headachey but the nausea has calmed down... as have my rather... uh.. explosive trips to the restroom.

And I've still been too fuzzyheaded to work on my travel blog... fooey.

Tomorrow... tomorrow....

I even had some whacky dreams...  When I got back from Egypt, I had a dream I was fired from my job... and then yesterday I had this weird one about the subway.  I keep putting off writing them down... bad kitty that I am.

Been quite a month.... been to Egypt and back and have been working like crazy to catch up... I had to direct a video at work only to learn that most of the footage was lost!!  

(Incidentally, I'm blogging my Egypt adventures in my "official" blog -- tandavadance.blogspot.com -- so feel free to check that out... I doubt I'll write much about it here, since this is my Super-Secret Personal Blog (i.e. the place where I whine and tend not to make sense).)

But what do I want to talk about -- oh, not Egypt or work or the fabulous performance I saw last night by the Fabulous Dalia, Diane (her awesome student), Kaeshi (my first teacher) and several other lovely dancers at JeBon... or about the show at Figaro this past Sunday where I knocked 'em dead with my Gawjusss New Costume (another Eman Zaki).  Oh no, not that either.

I want to talk about RCN.

Now, I've had RCN for about 5 years and have been pretty much satisfied with them.  And whenever I've called their tech support, I've always been impressed at how knowledgable and effective they are -- they pretty much have whatever is wrong fixed immediately (or near to immediately, but never longer than, say, 6 hours).

But their Customer Service..... Ahhh... their CUSTOMER SERVICE!!!!  AAAGGGGGHHH!!!!!!!

The first time I called, back in '02, the woman on the other end -- the customer service representative -- who is looking at my account information and can see that there is only one name on the account --- REFUSED to do what I asked her to do.  And when I asked why, she said, "I need to speak to your husband."  ?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?

I MEAN, REALLY!!!!!! WTF!!?!?!?!?!?!?

I screamed at her, called back and ratted her out to a manager, in asmuch as that may have made any difference.

So I call them as little as possible and get all my account information from their website.

But they just instituted some new "security measures" and sent out letters with a "special security ID" which you had to use to reconfigure your newly secured account.  In other words, they had a bunch of "what's your favorite..." questions and wanted to make sure the person receiving the mail was the same person setting up the security questions.

Well, OK.  Fair enough.

Only I lost the letter and had to have them send me a new one.

So I got the letter like a month later and set up the account with a new password.

And the next time I tried to use the password, the account locked me out and disabled itself!!

So I called to ask them to re-enable my account so I could access the website.  And the woman on the other end said, "Well, why do you want to do that?"

And my head just exploded on the spot.

"What do you mean, 'why'?" I asked, "I just do! It's my money and my account and I'm paying for a service here and I'd like to use it!"  And then I REALLY went off on her:  "How dare you ask me that!" I barked, "It's none of your business why I want to access my service!  Just enable it like I asked you to do in the first place!!"

Well, she apologized and put me on hold.

And the funniest thing is that the little spiel they had playing on hold said things like, "You can access your account information anytime by signing onto our secure website!  Just go to rcn.com and click, 'my.rcn'!" Like I could hear the effervescent life-can-be-so-easy smiles over the phone.

And she wanted to know why?? Listen to your own musak, honey!!

Anyway, she gets back on the phone and says, "So before I give you your password, I need to make sure--"

"I DON'T NEED MY PASSWORD!!" I huffed, "I know my password!  That's not why I called you!"

"Well, what is your password?" 

I told her and she said, "Ah... uh-huh."  Yes, dear, I really do know my own password.  "Well I'm logged in as you right now.'

Like I said she could do that, but what the hey.

"Are you you at a computer now," she asked sweetly.  I was just too frustrated to even answer and logged in.

"OK," I said, "I'm in now.  Thank you very much."

"OK," she said, "I'll just log that you needed your password...."

AAAGGGGHH!!

"Uh... nooooo..." I growled, "You did not need to give me my password... didn't I just tell you what my password was??? I needed you to re-enable my account! Document it correctly, please!!!"

"Uh, yes, ma'am," she nodded, probably writing "needed password" in the incident ticket.

And that was it.

So, why did I get so worked up about this? Well, I've been in tech support -- which is a form of customer service -- for about 10 years, and while you'd think that makes me more sympathetic to my fellow supporters, the opposite has happened -- because these days I support the supporters, and I know exactly how badly they listen and document incidents.  

Because I have to try to make sense of what they've written and then talk to the client to find out what is really going on -- which all too often bears almost no resemblence to what was in the incident ticket.

So because of this idiot at RCN, the next time I need to call in, if I happen to talk to someone who has a brain, that person will think I'm a moron who can't remember her own #@$% password.  And that pisses me off!!!!  Really!  AAGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!

OK.  All better now.

I really have to get to bed ... gotta get up at 7am to teach advanced reading to a bunch of fifth graders ... I volunteer with Learning Leaders and do book talk at a nearby grade school.  And we've just started reading The Time Machine, which is a much more advanced read than I remembered!!

Bed. Bed. Bed........ :->

I'm dead tired, coming down with a cold, and nowhere near ready for Egypt next week. Work has been hell and I don't know how I'll get everything in next week.

But I'm happy.

Hillary is ahead! She took Ohio and Rhode Island and is oh-so-close in Texas.

But yes, I'm happy!!! And YES I want her to be our next president.

With all this insane Obamania, I almost feel sheepish saying that .. especially as my various oh-so-hip-stickie friends flaunt their Obamacization.

Yeah, ok, he's an inspiring speaker and a smart guy and one day he'll make a great president. But Not Yet.

Sorry to keep bringing up the experience thing -- but he really doesn't have it. You can tell from the smugness he parades as confidence. To quote my favorite radio show, Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, the only thing more annoying than a smug, annoying, all-around-better-than-thou Mac owner, is a Mac owner who supports Obama. And let's not even get started on owning Priuses. Or should that be Priiiiii???

Well, I think this argument is best stated in the gleefully annoying format of an AIM chat. And, you know what, AIM is just old-hat enough to escape the annoyance factor of, say, GOOGLE chat, or whatever other new, hip chat method that I'm too crusty to even know about.

So here's the conversation:

Me: hillary is edging up in texas
Me: looking good in ohio
Me:
ObamaBoy: Foo
ObamaBoy: I like Obama better
Me: foo??? fooo?????
Me: nah
Me: don't be fooled by the hype
ObamaBoy: You wanna take this outside?
Me: hillary is the better candidate
Me: in a second
ObamaBoy: I'll arm wrestle ya!
Me: you sure you want to do that? I've been working out.....
Me: I've been really, really torn
Me: but it's all about health care to me
ObamaBoy: ?
Me: and her plan is just better, better, better
ObamaBoy: About what?
ObamaBoy: Ah
Me: and she is a known presence internationallyt
Me: internationally
ObamaBoy: If only whe can implement it
Me: and liked
Me: and the press has gone so soft on him
Me: I think it's a bait-and-switch
Me: the republicans want him to win
Me: if he does, they'll whollop him
Me: whereas they've already done their worst to her
Me: and she can take it
Me: she's a tough lady
Me: don't get me wrong -- I like Obama a lot
Me: and I think he'll make a great president
Me: just not yet
Me: and he's too dang smug
Me: ok, she had her own hubris problems
Me: but it looks like she's had that beaten out of her
Me: so them's my reasons
Me: you still wanna take this outside????
ObamaBoy: I cant argue with you, you have a good point, precisely why I've been torn
ObamaBoy: Its a fine line ultimately but I think you are correct

Too weird!!  I just learned that the Sun has been in opposition to Saturn since February 24th!!  I don't know how long the transit will last, but I suppose I can expect to continue to feel pretty crappy for a while yet.....

If you believe that stuff.......

Well, so much for yesterday's burst of energy.

Feeling lower than ever today, and for no good reason.  I did a show with Nahari and Adnan where a bunch of dancers did veilwork to his drumming... and I got a lot of praise for it, but that couldn't keep me from tumbling into a deep depression when Amy and I headed off to JeBon.  

Not sure quite what did it.... I think I've been very critical of my dancing lately and all I could see was the yawning chasm between my work and the kind of dancing I'd like to be able to do someday... the kind that was on the stage tonight by the ever-lovely Blanca and Jeniviva.... 

And I feel old and ugly and fat and completely lose sight of what makes a good dancer a good dancer. (And what is that again???) And what exactly is it that I have to offer this world anyway???? What, what, what??

That's really my problem... 

"...you are your harshest critic, often feeling that you have so little to offer that no one can love you. You feel that people will not accept you as you really are, that you have to earn their love."

Yeah, if that ain't ever the truth.  Intellectually, rationally, of course I know it's not true.  And I can point to all kinds of things that contradict it.... yes, there are a lot of people who love me ("but never quite enough, or in the right way" says the evil little voice); and I have talents and qualities "to offer" (she said, dancing as fast as she could to get people to love her), but never enough, never enough... never in the right way, and always looking to the outside for reassurance that I'm getting it right (and the very act of looking itself can often make it wrong).

What a mess. 

I went to a lecture last night by an excellent Jungian astrologer named Shirley Soffer.  And before you start giving me a crap about how astrology is crap, I tell you I don't want to hear it.  I've heard it; I've heard all the obnoxious pseudo-rationalists smugly sneering about how anyone who pays attention to astrology is deluded, when they themselves are way deluded about their own "objective rationalism." 

Well, whatever.

If it's done right, it is frighteningly accurate.  In our post-enlightenment, rational, scientific world, yes, it shouldn't work.  But it does.  Because if it didn't I should not have been able to correctly identify the time of birth of friends and family -- which I have.  Bear in mind, I've only done this four or five times -- but with 100% accuracy.

So. I pay attention to astrology -- at least as far as my birth chart is concerned.  Daily horoscopes can suck my ass.

Anyway, in my chart, all the planets are below the horizon, which tends to indicate introversion (and introspection), and a lot going on underneath the surface... and very difficult to have it manifest.

And, just to make my life even more miserable, the two planets above the horizon are the moon in the 12th house in Cancer -- which means tremendous sensitivity (usually invisible to others until I'm a puddle on the floor), fragility, empathy, emotionality -- but in a way that operates unconsiously (i.e. I send out strong emotional signals about what's going on with me, but they are often misconstrued).  

And, the killer in my chart -- Saturn in the 9th house, in Taurus, conjunct midheaven.  Well, Saturn is well at home and extremely powerful in Taurus.  The only way it could be worse is if it were in Capricorn, which Saturn rules.  But Taurus is an earth sign similar to Capricorn, and damned frustratingly stubborn in its hold.  AND it's in opposition to my sun.  AND it's square to Mars. 

It is perhaps worth noting that FUCKING ADOLF HITLER had a midheaven-Saturn conjuction, square to Mars.  Fortunately, I have enough water in my chart to balance out this cruel aspect, but it is still a doosy.

Here's what the excellent astro.com has to say in its "Astro-Click Portrait" (which I highly recommend):

"Life seems hard and unloving to you. And the danger is that you will gradually become hard and unloving toward others. If your family, especially your father, does not give you enough emotional support, you will eventually come to believe that no one else deserves a better break than you got."

And about the midheaven conjunction:

"At a very early age you will learn that life requires hard work and ceaseless activity if you want to get ahead."

Too true.  And it also says this, which is true as well:

"No matter what career you choose, you will be a teacher and a guide for others. "

But my favorite is the Sun-Saturn opposition (Hitler didn't have that, by the way):

"This aspect can have a very inhibiting effect, which you may spend a good deal of your life learning to handle properly. In a very real sense, you will never be young in this life. "  Then it says the bit I posted above about never feeling worthy of love, and then adds: "This isn't true, and your only real problem is thinking that it is. People who do like you will try to make you realize that fact, but it won't be easy. You take criticism far more seriously than praise, even though the praise may be just as deserved."

Oui.  Always with the half-empty.  Until I'm half-dead.

And then there's this "alternate reading," which I think is more useful than the first:

"The opposition of your Sun to Saturn indicates that you are undergoing a crisis in consciousness, trying to discover who and what you are. You need to be constantly reassured of your self-worth. Most of your lessons will be learned through personal dealings, in which many crises will be resolved. Others feel as threatened by you as you feel threatened by them. Eventually you will achieve a proper perspective, and your self- confidence will be restored to normal. 

"Your lack of self-love is your greatest deterrent to success. If others will not give you room to expand, take it anyway. But be careful that you do not restrict others when they try to express themselves."

I struggle a lot with that last bit.  I tie myself in knots in an attempt not to squelch others, but all that squelching creates an uncontrollable monster which does the very thing I'd tried not to do.  So I let myself steamroll a bit ... more than I used to (consciously, anyway).  When center stage comes to me, just roll right over interruptions and whatever.  

I find that once I've been allowed to "expand" I have no problem stepping aside.

What's just so fucking frustrating in all this is that I really still don't know what I want to do with my life!  I've had nibbles that point to what I'm "here for" -- by which I mean, what I want to explore, offer, expand, etc. -- but nothing substantial nothing that's brought me to a solid place where I feel, well, accomplished and real.

Eh.

Enough hand-wringing.  Time for bed.

Much, much.  Although I got bombed out of bed by 7am construction, things are better.

Catching up on the Oscars now.... I had to train someone in our Tokyo office from 10pm to midnight on Sunday, so I just recorded everything.

I had a few interesting dreams, too....

Let's see... I've been meaning to type them up in my dream journal, but what the hey -- why not share, eh?

So... I had one on Thursday about Dalia's show... I was cut (as in real life) from the next mounting of it because she's shearing the ensemble down from eight to six dancers -- and from tall/heavy dancers to, well, dancers who are less tall and heavy.  But in the dream, I learn that I was replaced with a dancer who is older, heavier, just as tall, and less experienced than I am.  When I learn about this, I'm in a rehearsal complex and have to go immediately to a play reading in which I was just cast. I go into a room to find a bunch of people with scripts sitting around a long conference room table.

Friday... This was a very cute dream about my adorable kitty Julietta:  I'm staying with my parents and my cats are with me in my old bedroom.  Julietta notices a cat in distress outside on the street and suddenly vaults out the window before I can stop her.  But instead of falling, she bounds off the brickwork and springs onto the sidewalk.  She grabs a little cat who looks like a smaller version of Simon and just as I'm about to run out the door to go and bring them up, she appears at the window with the other cat in tow.  I ask how she did that, and she squeaks a little "mew" that sounds like a "yes." And I ask, "did you say yes?" and she says again, "yes!" Well, holy crap, my cat can talk. I ask why she did that and she tries to squeak out a response that explains the little cat is her sister's son. I bring her into the dining room to show them that she can, in fact, speak -- and is a little heroine -- but she just meows.  And just as I'm worrying that they think I'm nuts because maybe she won't talk in front of them.  But then she speaks! 

Saturday:  I'm staying with Libby H.  She has a huge apartment which has many rooms that are either empty or lightly furnished with couches and chairs.  She sleeps in the large room in the back, where her bed is on the left-hand side. The room is divided by a curtain, and I sleep on the right-hand side.  Both "bedrooms" are heavily furnished with all kinds of clutter from being lived in.  At moments, I glance at the curtain and think it's a wall, but when I look again, it is just, in fact, a curtain.

Tuesday:  I'm living in a dorm.  My roommate is Jay G, but he is always with his girlfriend so I'm used having the place to myself -- or so I think.  He bounds in one morning with a huge pizza and a bunch of friends, "Get out of my room!" I start screaming, but he just ignores me and goes over to the computer.  Well, clearly I'm not going back to sleep so I get up.  My bed is just a large velour couch, and his friends start sitting on it with their dirty clothes.  "Why haven't I put a sheet on it?" I ask myself and decide that's the next thing I'm doing once these jerks leave.  But then Jay tells me they're heading off for brunch and asks if I want to join them.  I go along and have a cheese wrap sandwich and yogurt.  But I need to leave for an appointment and ask if they'll wrap my food; they agree.  I have to go to a dark, cold lake and teach someone how to use a paddleboat.  I put them in the boat and swim alongside on with a floatation device under my chest.  We head to a creepy pier and switch places, so he is in the water and I'm in the boat.  When we return, my supervisor tells me I didn't keep my chest up enough when I was in the water.  I go back to the apartment and find that they put the yogurt into the takeout container, but there is no sandwich... and the yogurt is smeared all over the inside.  I'm a little fumed about this, but hungry, so I lick off the yogurt.

SO WHAT DOES ALL THAT MEAN???? Well, I have a few ideas, but it's late and Oscar is done and it's time for me to go to bed.