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street corner singing

March 18, 2011

We had such a nice St. Patrick’s Day yesterday, so I hope you all did, too. Pete went to beer breakfast (as you know), and I joined my family around 11 a.m. at a bar downtown for lunch (Guinness Stew…the meat just fell apart in the most glorious way). Later, after I came home from work, we headed over to some friends’ and sat, talked, played music (well, Pete did that), and enjoyed everyone’s company a great deal. Now, today it’s supposed to be sunny and warm again! So, all in all I’m just pleased as punch about the current state of things.

Last night’s dreams were populated mostly by the people I saw last night. We’re sitting on a curb, which is also a corner, in the early evening, presumably a nice warm summer night. Me, Julia, Pete, Ryan, Lyndsay, Pam, and Rob are all there. Singing. A bus comes along and makes a sharp turn, stopping at the curb to let people off, but none of us show surprise when instead of people, the passengers are dogs. I yell, “Tyler!” at one of them, but it isn’t Tyler. Jen and her sisters appear, looking at me with disdain, because it is obviously not Tyler the Dog. It’s one of their other four “secret dog collection” dogs, named Arnold Reginald, and he has a broken leg with a bright orange cast. He’s a small, tan-colored dog who looks a little like Andrew from Mary Poppins. Watching him get off the bus, I see Arnold Reginald is moving very slowly, and once he gets to the grassy area beside the sidewalk, he just kind of tips over in slow-motion. I squeal, because it is adorable, and go to pet him. Before I pet him, though, I am really bothered by his…er…privates? And I say, “I really hate dog penises.” Everyone giggles, but I’m serious about my discomfort, and retreat to my original group.

They (the original group) are deep into a discussion involving some serious life choices: money, babies, careers, etc. I resume my position within the group, sitting on the curb, adding in bits about what I think should happen (of course, I can’t remember any of that now, but I do remember I was talking with a lot of confidence). Then, our conversation fades away. The night gets darker, we become aware of the streetlamp above us. We resume singing, Pete and Ryan and Andy playing their instruments, the girls (me and Julia) singing “Tell Him,” at the top of our lungs, with me doing the Celine Dion part, and Julia as Barbra Streisand.

This is the second time I can recall dreaming about this song in recent memory, but I chalk last night’s “episode” up to my excitement building for Lisa’s birthday karaoke tonight!

 

 

 

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5 Comments leave one →
  1. Aubrey permalink
    March 18, 2011 3:20 pm

    Oh man, this is a good one.

  2. March 18, 2011 4:02 pm

    that Arnold Reginald and his disgusting display of privates. gets me every time. thx Arnie Reggie (as we used to call him on the farm in Montana).

  3. Jen permalink
    March 18, 2011 4:19 pm

    I can’t believe you found out about our secret dogs.

  4. jeezejulia permalink
    March 21, 2011 3:02 am

    I will happily be the Barbara Streisand to your Celine Dion…just let me learn all the words first. Haha!

    • March 21, 2011 11:50 am

      Haha, great! Glad to hear it, and thanks for visiting! 🙂 It was great seeing you guys the other day.

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