Dream On

This morning as I was getting up for work, Agnes rolled over and told me in a groggy voice filled with concern that she hadn't slept very well. The following conversation ensued:

Paul: Why didn't you sleep well?
Agnes: I was having some really bad dreams.
Paul: Oh really? What did you dream about?
Agnes: I dreamed that your mom died, and then we went out to dinner, and over dinner you told me you were a transvestite. And while you were telling me, the waitress told us that our car had been towed.
Paul: Don't worry, honey, two out of three of those things never happened.

Relieved, Agnes rolled over and went back to sleep. And I slipped on on my favorite pair of fishnets and stilettos and tiptoed out the door to work.

(Okay, that very last part isn't true, but the rest happened exactly as I described it here. Oh, and instead of "transvestite", she said "trannie")

Moving On

Last week, after a magical year in Sausalito, we packed up and moved south across the Golden Gate Bridge to the city. Like many moves, this one came with mixed feelings. We love our new place in San Francisco, but we already miss our sleepy little town. I miss seeing the sun creep up over Angel Island as I get ready for work, turning the bay from silver to gold. And I miss watching the the evening fog spill over the headlands, tumbling down the steep green hills and getting tangled in the trees above our house. But I don't miss spending $4/gallon on gas and filling up the car every week!