Speaking of the vapors ...

Neil in Haugesund, Norway, summer 2007

Neil in Cooperstown, NY, summer 2008

Brian and me, faking it.

Neil's mom sent him a couple of articles from his hometown newspaper yesterday (did you know that there's a $1.00 bus to Philadelphia?), and told him of a story she'd read recently about a 5-year-old accordion prodigy. Apparently this little boy's dead grandfather, himself an accomplished player, appeared in a dream one night and taught his grandson everything he knew. The little guy woke up the next morning "fluent" in accordion.

Weird.

I have had two dreams in which Mel Gibson, whom I'd never found particularly attractive even before his anti-Semitic drunken rants and weird relationship with Britney Spears (I have to skim US Magazine. It's part of my job. I swear.), proposed to me. In the second one he proposed on stage at my highschool (what was the name of that room, TJ?) with a pair of sapphire earrings.

I woke up fluent in Aussie and best friends with Danny Glover.