Growing up in a Turkish prison

I slept for fourteen and a half hours and awoke from the oddest dream. Domenico and Amanda were telling me about a new store in Urbana called Dry Fruits and Meats, and it apparently was run by refugees from Corkscrew. They were having a cognac and gin tasting, and I was going to go after my big test on something like medieval literature, except try as they did to clue me in, I had no idea where in Urbana it was. Then we were watching an old movie about naming streets in Urbana after historic figures, and I realized it had to be from the early eighties instead of the late sixties because I recognized all the Matchbox cars. Then someone said Jesse Jackson was killing us, and I woke up.

Woke up from a dead sleep to a call wanting money for breast cancer research. When I repeated I had no money, the caller sounded like she was going to cry. Went back to bed and decided "Little Round Mirrors" was the most beautiful song ever.

Still not sure what the connection was.

Strange day, nearly thirty degrees colder than yesterday. I had gone to bed at 10:00 am and got up at 10:00 pm. No calls or distractions of any kind all day, and nowhere open downtown except the two locations of Blind Pig. I was relieved to find any sign of life at the radio station, in the form of one Bill Saylor.

I don't understand how my mother and sister can watch back-to-back episodes of a show where a guy goes on about how sassy somebody's wedding dress is.

Ryan put up a good fight, but I bested him at foosball 10-9.

Today is adorable and awesome.

Jefferson Airplane had incredible charisma.

Ten Years After deserved to be better remembered.

Janis Joplin was much more annoying than I realized.

Jimi Hendrix made much uglier music than I remembered.

I missed Sunday. I went to bed at noon and slept fourteen hours on account of a power failure. When I awoke, it was pitch black and sixty degrees, and I ate the rest of my pastrami sandwich. Not a bad way to start a week.

At a meeting this morning, discussion turned to the governor's race. I cautioned against the spread of malicious rumors about potential candidates until we knew whether they were true, and a woman accused me of taking away her second amendment rights.

The woman is a former U.S. House nominee.

Things I did not expect to find so many of in the refrigerator:

8 jars mustard, including 3 French's, excluding mostarda di Cremona with 1/31/2000 expiration date
6 jars pickles, including 4 Mt. Olive
5 bottles Rival snow cone syrup
5 packages parmesan cheese, including 3 Kraft
4 packages Fresh Express field greens
4 jars olives, including 2 Mazzetta and 2 Shur Fine

Things I did not expect to find so many of in the cupboard:

5 jars McCormick stick cinnamon
3 boxes Dixie Crystals powdered sugar

Evidently, my mother only thought she cleaned out the refrigerator.