I don’t really have anything to write about, except:

I made blueberry pancakes and bacon this morning. The blueberries came from a friend’s farm, and they weren’t as good as the store ones. It seems as though they should have been better.

Sage got over a four day stomach bug that caused him to run a 104 degree temperature, and me to miss two days of work and purchase a carpet cleaner.

I hate Cingular but they have a monopoly where I live. I won’t go into the reasons I dislike them, as they are petty and inevitable. I will be grateful that I have a phone instead.

I went to the flea market and found something really awesome that I’ll share when I get my scanner working. It is a copy of Youth Evangelism from 1963. Woo boy. I also got a pair of old-fashioned sheep shears for $2.50. I’m really not sure why. Here’s a pic of the same from eBay. Apparently they are worth what I paid. Oh, and we bought a dreamcatcher. Thanks, Deborah!

At a garage sale this morning, Sage made a new friend. It turns out that she is friends with another of Sage’s friends who lives here in the same apartment complex. All of these kiddos march to their own beat, but they find each other. It’s cool.

Last night, the dog ate the chocolate bar I had left on the table. She’s fine, thanks.

Sage got good grades on his report card and I think think this is so they can say there is not a problem when I have the meeting to try to get him exempted from the state test that could keep him in third grade for another year because of his reading disability. The reading grade went from 70 to 88 in three weeks. Hmm. The teacher keeps putting off our conference. I don’t know what I will do if I can’t get him exempted from the state reading test and he fails it. This is stressing me out, because he is exceptional in math, science, etc., and it would really be a waste. Texas is big on holding kids back, even though research shows that it doesn’t work.

I picked up an awesome book, The Lizard Cage about a man imprisoned for political dissent in Burma (Myanmar) in 1984. Imagine that. The book is awesome, and is only semi-fictional. It is definitely a timely read.

I have been thinking a lot about plastic surgery lately, and how in some circles, it is a perceived necessity as more and more people watch makeover shows and read about how better looking people make more money and advance higher in their careers. I began to wonder when it doesn’t matter. Like, if I wrote the book referenced above and had been interviewing political refugees, would it be okay for me to have gray hair, as opposed to if I were working in sales? What if, like my friend, I had an organic blueberry farm? Surely then it wouldn’t matter if I had a tummy tuck, right? At what point does one get respect for being who they are? I don’t want to “market myself”. There is a course by that name at my school. Ick.

I thought I didn’t have anything to say, but I guess I did.

So Sage has some very intense dreams. They feel very real to him, and he often ends up in my bed.

Before he goes to sleep, he often wonders if he’ll have more bad dreams. He thinks about life and death. Tonight, he asked me, “So what if you stay in a bad dream forever and don’t wake up?”

I said, “That never happens”.

“But maybe it happens when you die”, he says.

Oh this kid. So young, and such heavy thoughts. We talked about heaven, and all was well. But I understand these questions, because I think about these things too.

Last night, I had some dreams of my own. I woke up a couple of times, and thought about my dream landscapes. I often visit the same hotel in my dreams, the same boulevard and wander around in the same houses.

Or at least I think I do.

Perhaps I am dreaming that I have the same dream landscape?

I don’t think so.

It’s weird. Does anyone else have places they visit in their dreams, making the dreams seem more like a visit to a familiar town than a dream?

It really makes me wonder sometimes.