Much has transpired since last we blogged together. They blocked blog access from the office. Now I have to blog on my own time. darn.
The following is a true story about a dream I recently had. I hope this proves that dreams are meaningless nonsense.
In my dream, I met Karl Rove. In person (so to speak), he looks much younger than on TV, more like a frat boy with shoulder length wavey blond surfer hair. He took an unexpected liking to me, and started pursuing me romantically. I thought he was sweet, not at all the kind of nasty self-contained axis of evil I had imagined, although I found him more of an amusement than an attraction. He sent me packages and gifts, all signed: Karl Love
What can we make of that? I've already said too much.
Love Christine
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