Dreams Redux

Except this time I can’t blame the Tylenol PM (see earlier post). No, must have been the albuterol (sp?) inhaler, the prescription cough medicine, and the antibiotics. Between coughing, hacking, wheezing (no Sneezy, no Grumpy, no Doc)...it was a rough night...saved by a great dream in which Christina Aguilera did a total makeover on me! Boy, did I look hot! (Did I say this was a GREAT DREAM?) She tweezed my eyebrows to within a hair of Theda Bara, lined my eyelids in heavy black (a la Liz Taylor in Cleopatra), and wound my hair into a wonderful French braid held in place with some sort of hair jewelry I’ve never seen outside of slumblerand. Alas, my dreams tend to fall to the realistic side (not to mention the detailed side), so there I was, at a star-studded function with this fabulous hair, when the top part began to escape from three (three?) combs on each side which was okay because the Mexican family that suddenly appeared insisted on giving me the honor of wearing their traditional hair clip which was totally unlike Christina’s. (I know that was a run-on sentence but I’m too tired to edit.) The daughter in the family tried to make the switch while shoring up the comb escapees and that’s when we discovered I had about two cans of hair spray holding the whole thing together. So, is that the secret?


And no, I don’t take acid or do illicit drugs. My father’s always told me no one is interested in hearing about my dreams. He’s probably right.


Diet update: In a holding pattern which is neither bad nor good, considering the margaritas, chips and salsa last night....