[[groovy musics: this bike is a pipe bomb, make-up]]
11:38 a.m. // 23 December 2003
Just before sunrise the other morning, Dwayne said, he woke up because I was rubbing his face up and down and up and down.
What are you doing?, he said. Checking to make sure that the blanket's not over your head, I said, according to him.
I do not remember this. I was not awake. D. does have a habit of sleeping with his head under the covers, and I don't like it because it seems unhealthy to me. So I have a habit of pulling them off his head.
Last night I dreamed I was at a Polyphon!c Spree concert in a huge auditorium. The theme of the show was "Tenths" and at the finale, a troupe of kindergarteners walked up the aisles, each holding above their heads a pair of scissors larger than themselves. Each pair of scissors was a different color, and the scissors were ten times larger than an actual pair of scissors.
I worried about the sharp edges but they were so cute I had to take photos. Then onstage was the giant paper-cutting contest...