I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been sleeping under Earl’s quilt, adding acidophilus and magnesium to my vitamin repertoire, or just the grace of God, but somehow after so long an absence, delicious, deep sleep has returned to me at night.  Sometimes I fall asleep at 7PM, awaken in the middle of the night, watch tell for a little bit, then fall sound asleep once again in a state filled with dreams.  Where before it seemed that my body fought the bed for comfort, I will use a term I started saying when I was sixteen…your body just melts into the bed.  Sleep is such a wonderful thing, especially those journey you take in dreams, and my goodness, it’s perfect for getting rid of dark circles and baggy eyes (Tee-Hee).

So, last night I dreamed you and I were on a nocturnal adventure way up there where you are with a pack of blokes who were your buds.  We were dressed in jeans and T shirts, and somehow, Colleen, my stalwart little dark green Ford, had crossed the pond to chariot us around.  But alas, just as were all going to pile in an head up a steep hill, my battery went dead.  ( I hope this isn’t an omen; God knows just had  all those maintenance repairs and two new front tires, but she’s worth every penny.)  I turned to you, because, in the parking lot, was your white pickup truck.  Can’t see you with a white car, a truck, yes, but not white, but anyway, and I said, ‘can’t you give me a charge?”  All of your bloke buds starting saying, oh no, don’t ask him that, don’t ask him that, and you got out of the car, fussing at me, the whole time you moved the truck to Colleen, got the jumper cables, and kept telling me I should have known the batter was going to go dead.  It was kind of funny, and your anger didn’t upset me, it was more like Shirley MacLaine as Sister Sara when Clint Eastwood as Hogan would spout off and she’d just give him That Look.

I personally suspect it’s Earl’s Quilt working all the magic.  I really need to buy a new little camera.  I miss taking pictures and posting them here.

It’s Groundhog Day, Punx. Phil saw his shadow so six more weeks of winter, but honestly, we’ve really had no winter way down here, clinging to our little perch hold above the Gulf of Mexico.

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