don't eat somosas before bed

dream one--I went to Arkansas to help Mrs. H with her kids and she didn't want to see me. Another woman, I think it was Bronwhine, met me at the door. She announced we were going to a Harry Potter movie and that after the movie, she was driving me to England. Got to love dream geography.

dream two--an editorial assistant at a publisher called to tell me that there was no point in ever submitting to them again; they were cutting many of their authors. Oh, yes indeed, I was most definitely cut. I forgot to ask her if they were going to even publish the book I'd sent to them and they'd already accepted.

[insert big-ass space, indicating big-ass change of topic, here]

There is a whole lot of talk on the liberal blogs about this.--transportation of dead soldiers. I tried to imagine being one of the dead soldier's parents and I don't think I would feel outrage at the mode of transportation--where else could they put the corpses? It would be the boy's senseless death that would be my undoing. After that . . . the rest wouldn't matter.

(as Neil Shakespeare said, " 'Be the first one on the block / to have your boy come home in a box.' Nothing's changed since Country Joe and the Fish.")


  1. Bruce Springstien was belting out "Born in the USA, he was Born in the USA..." on the car radio, and my son chimed in,
    "And he Died in Iraq..."
    Yeah - it makes no sense at all.

  2. I presume we're driving to England in the Weasley's flying car, Kate.

    Afternoon tea at the Dorchester, perhaps? (I'm told it's better than the Ritz.)

    As for the other, I agree... the rest wouldn't matter.


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