The Tropicana finally got their online booking system together, but I don't think I'll be going to see Foreigner there. I don't believe "Mick Jones" and "booth seating" are phrases that are naturally proximal.
Elizabeth Joy, painfully shy her whole life, has been quite bold recently. She hops directly into the hand and looks around like she knows what she's doing. For this I gave her a tiny dab of natural peanut butter last night, which she enjoyed. I still had a little under my pinky nail, so I offered this finger to Bode in the adjacent hamitat.
Well. Bode went loopy for it. Gently but with obvious frustration she worked the other fingers once the pinky went "dry," trying to squeeze another nibble of peanut butter out of the tips. Poor girl.
I didn't think anything of it when every time I walked past that side of the room this morning she stuck her head out of bed. "Hi Bode!" I'd wave, then go about my business. Finally, feeling guilty, I stopped to give her a pat.
And there, 12 hours later, hands bathed and washed several times since, she went right back to begging those fingers to just release a little more sweet, sweet peanut butter. I've created a monster!
I mean "sweet" in the "delicious" sense, not the sugary sense, of course. Or do I? I checked the label again. Second ingredient? SUGAR. Damn you, Whole Foods! I just assumed their freshly ground natural peanut butter would be sugar free. You know, like Laura Scudders or somesuch. Cripes. I don't think I gave Elizabeth Joy or Bode enough to worry about, though. I probably should feel more concerned that the peanut butter is several weeks old - I bought a small dish for a recipe then never got around to using it. (Which is how I never tasted it myself and realized there was sugar - SUGAR! - inside.)
Anyway, I'll have to get some unsweetened pb and see if that makes Bode just as happy. You can't give hamsters too much peanut butter because it supposedly gums up their pouches, but a thin smear shouldn't be a problem.
I had this dream that I went to get my car washed and the car was stolen. As I dreamt, I realized this was a continuation of a plot line I'd been experiencing shortly before. When I woke up, I told Mike about it. He said, yes, I'd told him earlier while I was sleeping or half-awake that the car had been stolen. Wow, Taco Bell before bedtime must make me extra chatty.
So now I'm weirded out that if I go see Billy Idol tonight then the car will be stolen. Car dreams just always seem to be so prophetic! Okay, I base this on two incidents. One, the time I dreamt I got a flat tire, woke up, and got a flat tire. Two, the time I dreamt the car was washed away in a flood. It wasn't, but the town where I was living was severely damaged by an unexpected flood a few days later. But those are the only two car dreams I remember, and now there's this one.
Can I beat fate? Should I just not get the car washed? In the dream, the car was taken by a troubled teenager that I knew, and in the second dream I couldn't remember the first dream very well other than I knew in the first dream I'd seen that this was coming but I went ahead and let them have the car anyway, since I was counting on the car washing people to keep him or her (I think "her") from driving off with it. Which, in the second dream, they failed to do. I seem to recall that Uma Thurman might've been involved.
My car is pretty dirty, and of course now I'm being overwhelmed with the urge to wash it. I think I need a gypsy advisor.
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