I hate blog posts about dreams, but I'm going to tell you about one anyway: I dreamed that we were letting Jesse drive a car around. At one point I was driving a separate car and he'd caught up with me, and I watched him through the rear view mirror. He was supposed to be following me. But he wasn't doing a very good job. I made a right turn, and he wasn't paying attention so he had to cut right through three lanes of traffic and practically make a U-turn to catch back up. Then he got in front of me, and just as he approached a stoplight I noticed that the light wasn't working. And I knew that he wouldn't know what to do, and I held my breath as he made a left turn into oncoming traffic. But he was fine. We stopped at a convenience store, and I put my arm around his shoulder and told him that we weren't going to let him drive anymore. He was heartbroken. "But you know what? You're going to be a really great driver when you get old enough." And that seemed to make him feel better. Oh, yeah. And I was dressed up in a Thomas Jefferson costume for some reason.

So, obviously I didn't sleep very well last night because of some crappy work trauma. And I was hot. My body temperature drops at night when I get tired (it's my body's way of getting me to go to bed), and even though I know better, I sometimes will turn the air conditioning down or the heat up to compensate, which means I inevitably sweat all night long. At least I burned off a few calories in the process.

The David Sedaris show was really, really great. He's hilarious. And such a tiny man. Great writer. Dinner was kind of tense because the service was slow. Bethany had expressed some concerns that Blue Fin might not be the best choice if we wanted to get to the Cannon Center by 7:30, and boy she wasn't kidding. We got there a few minutes past 8 after having walked there. We didn't have the luxury of waiting on a trolley by the time we finally left the restaurant (and the claim that the trolleys run every 10 minutes is a big honking joke). But the sushi was good. And I managed to eat it with chopsticks. I did drop one piece and splashed soy sauce on my brand new white blouse. Lesson learned: put the soy sauce at the top of the dish, not beside it.

Phone conversation with my husband before the show:
Him: "Hey. I'm trying to figure out what to where to this."
Me: "Dark pants and one of your..."
Him: "DARK PANTS! I was thinking blue jeans."
Me: "Why are you calling me? Seriously. WHY are you calling me and asking me this if you're just going to be this way? Wear whatever you want."
Him: "Do you really think I need to dress up?"
Me: "It's at the Cannon Center for the Performing arts. The tickets were $80. Don't you think that warrants a nicer outfit?"
Him: "OK, fine."

At least one of our party was wearing shorts to the show. Blue jeans would have been fine. So, yeah, I suck. But SkooterPie had a good time anyway. Why he then chose that night to confess to me that he'd started smoking again, and thus putting a damper on the night for me, I'll never know.