It has been quite some time (before the Berlin trip) that I’ve used my computer laying down in bed, and I almost forgot how bad my neck used to hurt from doing this. It really sucks. I think I need to come up with a better way to do it, but I get so tired of sitting at a desk or table all the time, especially late at night.

Any ideas?

I’m starting a new web site, mostly for fun. I’ve been dreaming of moving out of the country lately so I’m scratching that itch with a little web project. Who knows, maybe it will turn into something big and then will require me to move. There isn’t really anything there right now, but here’s the web site: Belize Real Estate - it is pretty much a copy of my Rally Car Classifieds site just with different branding to keep it nice and easy to maintain.

A couple days back I posted about stress, life, and weird dreams and now I’ve got a great example of a weird dream.

I am walking over to my neighbor’s house to talk to him about something, I dunno what. I distinctly remember walking through the slider door out onto the patio in the back yard where they are. They own a 70’s or 80’s house that has some shag carpet and old dining furniture to match which is in the dining nook in front of the slider door. I’ve got my laptop in hand, opened up like one would if they were using it.

My neighbors, Adam and Teresa are sitting out at the table in back. Adam’s dressed in slacks and a blue shirt and looks like he just took off his suit jacket and tie. It turns out that Adam has started a new job, working as a loan officer for one of my clients and he needs me to set up a new email account for him. Teresa also wants me to set up a new email account for her because Adam is getting one but she’s starting a new job for someone else and I have to tell her, sorry and I can’t help her with that.

(Now, most of you don’t know Adam, so let me fill you in. Adam’s a tall New Zealander that used to rent my house on Milwaukie Ave a couple years back with Teresa. He’s a techie and I’d say he has some artistic tendancies maybe. He’s a great guy, but I just don’t see him working in financial services as a loan officer - which I mention to him in my dream.)

Just as soon as I am about to sit down and set up his email on my laptop, about 6 people rush out the back door and take over the patio table where we’re at. No problem, Teresa says, we will just go inside and use the dining table. So, we walk in the house and I’m looking to find room to set down the computer. The table has a bunch of stuff on it, and Teresa is clearing it off. She lifts what looks like a “Members Only” jacket and all of a sudden there are these little things moving around that were under it. They look like skinny mice without heads, tails and fur. There’s about 6 of them and they’re mostly just flopping around like limp, dying rodents.

Detecting that I’m startled, Teresa explains to me that their pet ears have had babies and these are their baby pet ears. She continues to remove the jacket and they have a little “cage” where the parent pet ears are hanging out. They really look like an ear. She starts to explain to me how pet ears would mate since they appear to not have any of the proper equipment, but I stop her because I don’t really care to know.

Now all of a sudden I am standing at the other side of the table and Adam and Teresa are sitting down on the table, one on each side, as if they had been there all along. I am now concerned that my pet baby squirrel that I am holding in my hands (what happened to the laptop from earlier, I wonder?) is trying to jump down onto the table and nibble at one of the baby pet ears. The squirrel, which is albino-white, is really trying hard to jump onto the table and I’m nearly strangling it to hold on to it with both hands.

Then, I’m trying to make my way around to sit at the side of the table (which is definitely one of those 80’s glass octagon tables with the wicker chairs that is made out of bent, brass tubing) to resume our discussion about email addresses. The only thing, is that their cats are in the way.

They have a white cat, and an electric blue one. The white one slinks off under the table and the blue one is about to do the same. As I move closer to sit down, the blue one whirls around and starts making faces at me and some weird hissing kind of noise, not like any cat I’ve heard before. In fact, it doesn’t look like any cat I’ve seen before either. It has the body of a cat, a face that’s kind of a mix of a cat and an alien (think weird eyes, oval head and ears that go sideways like yoda or something) and proportionately huge paws like those gloves soccer goalies wear.

Blue alien-cat is moving around on it’s back paws, moving around like a praying mantis, blocking me like a soccer goalie would, from getting to the chair. Someone says to me that I need to loosen up my hold on the pet albino squirrel or I’m going to choke it.

Then, I wake up. It takes me a couple minutes to figure out what all is going on. And, now I need to go blog about it because this is a perfect example of my weird dreams of late.

This is additionally weird to me, because of:
- Haven’t talked to Adam & Teresa in some time. Maybe they’re in the dream because I just sold the Milwaukie house?
- I SWEAR I have had the dream about a pet ear before. Adam and Teresa only had one back then, but this sounds very very familiar.
- How did I get outside past the table with pet ears and the alien-cat earlier?
- Adam as a banker?
- What happened to the computer when I’m strangling my pet squirrel?

Weird. I blame it on the Cuban pressed sandwich I had for a late dinner at Salvador Mollys. Maybe the Thai Potstickers had something to do with it too. On the plus side, I’m up early and have got to watch the sun rise.

V and I went to Aqui Mexican Cafe (I dunno why they call it a cafe…) on 12th & Hawthorne tonight. They had some awesome and SPICY fish tacos. I like spicy food, and this was SPICY.

Well, the point was that there was this odd couple with their kids and what appeared to be the husband’s mother at the table on the other side of the outdoor eating area - kind of like an enclosed porch, maybe 20 feet by 30 feet in size. Well, lil’ miss all-inked-up (another rant) has her toddler getting all fussy and sassy so she decides to just open up and give it a little dinner, mother-earth style (I’m talking breast feeding.) Now, while we WERE at a food-serving establishment, I just think this was a bit gross having someone 10 feet away from me breast feeding her child while I’m trying to down some yummy fish tacos.

What do ya’ll think? Am I just being too American now, loosing my care-free European roots and turning stuffy. Or would this bug you too?

Well, my lottery numbers were a bust. I couldn’t resist playing them even though I’m a huge skeptic when it comes to my luck in gambling. At least I broke even and won a couple bucks. Hardly enough for “years of comfort and material wealth” though.

Now those lottery numbers may be worth playing…

A fellow Eastsider proudly displays his colors at The Farm.

Here’s a nice old-house plan that I like. I’ll keep adding to this as I find some more.
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/courtyard/cyc1900.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/classiccottages/cc-1923.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/classiccottages/cc-1979.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/classiccottages/cc-1855.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/classiccottages/cc-1774.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/colonialheritage/ch2-2117.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/colonialheritage/ch2-2410.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/charleston/chrl1716-alstonhall.html
http://www.historicaldesigns.com/charleston/chrl2411-alstonhall.html

It’s been a long day and lunch is now here, finally at 3pm. So I boot up my computer to take a look at stuff and work while I’m eating. Ironically enough, I see Keener’s Blog has a picture of his drinking and doing stuff on the ‘puter. And he thinks he’s a mack daddy with a drink on the table… well I have two drinks!

So, here’s to you Mr. Sean “Brokeback” Keener. I’m toasting the white wine to you (too bad I don’t have a white zinfandel). The red one, that’s for you, Hydro.