Monday

Last night I dreamed I married a pilot who had one arm amputated.  Barrie introduced us.  Where on earth do dreams like this come from?  Of course I was about thirty years old in the dream.  I was still tired when I woke up this morning.  I wonder what  his name was?

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I listened to all the John Denver songs on my iPod yesterday.  Both my girls stick their fingers down their throats when I play his music around them, but I still like his songs and  his voice. 

 

When Tracy worked in Aspen, she worked for John Denver in the Windstar Foundation, which he founded to conserve and protect land in Colorado.  I don't think she knew him well, but she didn't like him then, either.  She said he wore " high water corduroy bell-bottom pants".  

 

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And here is something I hope I don't dream about tonight!  Seems there is a guy named  Leonardo DeGrato, an Argentine painter whose talented sinuses allow him to snort liquid into his nose and squirt it out of his tear-ducts. He works by inhaling watercolor paint and spraying it on canvas. They even have a video of him doing it.

 

 

Somehow, I don't believe this will catch on.

 

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I get the dictionary word of the day on my computer daily.  This is what I got yesterday:

snollygoster: a clever, unscrupulous person.