Saturday mornings are almost always Saturday afternoons these days. I'm not complaining, I just have this weird urge to get an early start on my day, in order to squeeze as much adventuring out of it as possible.
I had strange dreams last night about Santa Cruz but I've forgotten most of the details. I need to concentrate on my dreams when I first wake up in order to really pin everything down, and rather than laying quietly and reflecting, I jumped up and started running around the house, toasting a bagel. I do remember something about a man who had a box of ants, he was an old man, he walked in to my house and laid down on the floor. He opened the box and the ants poured out and swarmed over his face. As the mass of ants swept down his face, they restructured it, reforming his old, wrinkled skin in to young, elastic, fresh skin. Creepy nano-ant plastic surgery!
The first thing I read this morning was this message from Michael Moore.