So I have a lot of dreams about all of my teeth breaking out.

I have read about it, and it seems like it's a pretty common thing and all, but it's really scary when it's happening, because I have cracky teeth anyway, and I am already paranoid about that. So when it's super realistic, it's like a night-long freak out. 

Last night was that way.

I dreamed that I was at work, and all of the dentists but one was out of the office, and the one that was in was super busy, and my gold crowns kept exploding. Full on explosions in my head. With showers of glittery gold stuff shooting out. It would've been pretty, except it was my teeth, so gross. 

Anyhow, the dentist kept shifting other patients to try to get temporary crowns on the exploding teeth, but then a new one would explode, and then all the metal fillings started exploding, too, and he was pretty much like, "Let's explore dentures!"

And then I cried. In front of everyone.

So, yeah, pretty much a typical day at the dental office.

Except the explosions and glitter and dentures and crying. Minus all that.

Didn't get to watch the debate last night; had rehearsals and didn't get home until late. I did, however, get several really awesome insults and decided to share because I can't quite believe the stuff that comes out of people's mouths.

First, when someone sings a song, don't tell them that it's the "oddest version" you've ever heard. That's not nice. If you don't have something nice to say to the singer, just don't say anything. That's okay. It's allowed.

Secondly, if you aren't guessing way young, don't guess a person's age. Seriously, I do not look like I'm in my mid-40s, but thank you for your effort. I realize my eye bags and neck skin may be a tad excessive, but for reals, mid-40s? Ouch.

Aaaaaaand finally, don't tell me I'm still young enough to do something about all this excess weight in my midsection. I know I'm chubbin' it. That's okay. I'm eighty pounds less than I used to be, and I eat healthily and I get lots of exercise. Also, come on. It's rude to go up to a complete stranger and tell her if she would fast for a few days a week she could be acceptable.

So that was my evening. Pretty much exactly like the debates, but no yelling, from what I'd guess.

Fan-fricking-tastic.

I just decided that childhood me would've totally thought adult me was rich. For one simple reason, which I totally forgot about until just this very minute: We buy Kleenex.

Okay, so it's Costco brand, but still.

I was just in my bathroom, blowing my nose with toilet paper and it suddenly hit me that when I was a kid, I thought only rich people had Kleenex, because we only used toilet paper (which is actually handier than a box of Kleenex when you have a cold, because that tube is a built-in place to stick the dirty t.p. between trips to the trash can....I mean, I'd never do that now, but when I was a kid it was on). I guess we just didn't feel like tissues were worth it when we had perfectly good rolls of t.p. that served pretty much the same purpose. Every once in a while, when I had a bad cold, my dad would buy me a box of Kleenex and it was glorious. I felt so dang fancy, I would still use the toilet paper, and keep that box of tissues for as long as possible.

Fortunately, I married someone who really likes having a box of tissues around, rather than rolls of toilet paper, and with my sinus issues, it's pretty much a snot fiesta up in my neck of the woods. For reals. And when I blow my nose, even though it's quieter than it was before my sinus surgery, it is still trumpety and magnificent, so you can imagine the snot game I have going on. So, yeah, Kleenex is a fine idea.

So, little me, guess what? 

Even non rich people can buy that huge bulk pack of boxed tissues at Costco (theirs are less linty than Kleenex, too, so it's a pretty amazing deal). 

Or maybe we are rich and somebody forgot to tell me.

That would also be amazing.

But at least we have a ginormous box of boxes of tissues in our garage.

So, has it been crazy in your house? It's been all kinds of crazy in my house. That's okay, though, because we have discovered a new form of awesome. Less than an hour away from my house is this magical place where you can watch a movie AND have dinner AND have beer.

Except I've got fluid in my ear and I'm taking stuff to fix it that has Tylenol in it, so I'm not drinking at all, but when that's over, then I will have beer with my movie.

Anyway, movies and food and beer are some of our favorite things, so we're pretty happy we went. I also realize that this theater has been around for ages already, but we've been too busy to check it out.

Until now.

Whoever invented this is the most geniusy of all the geniuses. Seriously. It's like Disneyland but cheaper and without those scary people in costumes or 9 billion unwashed hands. Oh, and no rides, but did I mention they have pizza? So there's that.

OH MY GOSH I WANT TO GO EVERY DAY.

I want to just live there.

Maybe it's weird to like a movie theater this much, but there is also limited seating, and it's assigned. So you know where you're going and you don't have to think about it. Also, the seats are big enough that even when you're sitting next to someone else, it's not too bad and you don't feel like there's a possibility of their weird fabric softener smell migrating over to your jacket. Or maybe that one's just me. And they have fold-up tables to put your food on while you eat.

It's like my inner fat kid's dream came true.

I almost can't believe it.

I almost want to skip work today and go back.

Yes, kids. Believe it. I actually like something. This calls for jazz-hands and a Carol Channing-style rendition of a Frank Sinatra song. Happy Monday.

Cold or allergies?

I wish there was a kit where you could blow your nose into a machine and it would tell you so you could be sure to not infect other people with your gross. 

No such thing. 

It's times like this that I wish I was a scientist and could invent such a machine, because I'm pretty sure I would be a multi-billionaire in like five minutes, but alas, I am not. 

I'm just a lady with a dream. A snot-testing dream.

That doesn't sound pathetic at all.

Not even a little bit. 

I just had the nicest weekend.

We still had to do some work, even though it was Labor Day and all that, but we did a lot of fun things, too, and I got to have my husband all to myself for a bit, which was lovely. 

We went and did touristy stuff in Santa Fe, which we haven't done for eons, we had a fancy dinner out for our anniversary, we went to a movie, we took a drive in the mountains, and we even did a long walk together.

I know. None of those things involves work or even being productive. Crazy.

We also got all of the things we needed to get done finished, around all the fun stuff, even including an extra-long rehearsal for me last night. So I don't have to have any guilt about slacking off. I also don't have a ginormous pile of dishes or laundry or anything waiting for me, because we already did that.

Ah. Now, if only this morning hadn't arrived extra early, it would be perfect. But, close enough.