Apples Peaches Pumpkin Pie

Well, not quite. But you see I'm feelin' kinda "good stuff," kinda "simple life," and that's the phrase that came to mind.

Saturday Cam, Erica, Seth and I went to Centerfest which is little Bedford's annual street festival. Seth had gotten me all pysched up for Carnie food (as he called it) so I had created in my head a big event out of eating funnel cake and kettle corn and then it turned out he didn't feel so good so I had to live out my dream alone. By that point, needless to say, I had realized how very empty my dream was.

Cam and I stood back and watched as Seth and Erica said hi to half the crowd. What sociable "in" people they are... Hmmm, guess that's nothing new. Cam and I early on developed a certain pride in our socially awkward development. Or perhaps it was later on and I've simply made myself forget.

Regardless, I love time when the four of us hang out together; it's infrequent and good when it happens.

But last night, which is where the title really comes from, we made food. Yes indeedy. Real food. First we made apple pie. Seth went into town and got missing ingredients and I washed the peelers. We were starving and Seth thawed and fried some Morning Star Black Bean burgers up and I had mine on an Everything bagel with guacomole and salsa and it was mmm mmm good. Then we made hummus. Actually, Seth crashed so he observed and kept company and took mental notes while I measured into the food processor. Then we were going to make applesauce but we were both drained and went to bed right away.

Unfortunately I had another of my increasingly frequent bad dreams. This was a torture dream. Those come up now and again. Never the same one, always different scenarios. Nearly always it is a group who has captured another group. The dynamics go beyond pure torture and into group oppression, domination, torture, and political propoganda. I'm usually an individual in the captured group, trying to figure out how to best escape and how best to manipulate my captors and avoid pain until I might escape; I also try to help others avoid pain as well. There was also a bus in last nights, and a car, I think the vehicles switched on me. Washed out roads. Roads under construction. Erica was with me at one point and we were asking a group of homeless kid construction workers whether the road ahead was passable - "Hay paso?" and we had to yell it again because they were laughing and not paying much attention to us, kind of making fun of us, knowing we were at their mercy. And their answer was "Un MONTON!" and Erica and I took off but we weren't sure they hadn't sent us into something that would get us stuck. And mind you, we had no time to lose, we were being pursued. And now I remember that Judy Garland was there. She was older but had had tons of cosmetic surgery so that she was thin and petite and was an insanely rich blond older lady. She could be hired to make appearances at parties and she showed up at a simple dinner party being hosted by someone in the USAID D.C. crowd and she pretty much just showed her photo albums around and signed people's books. Apparently she'd written a lot of horrible books, books that someone else wrote for her but her name on the book as a collaborator made the books sell. And then later in the dream somehow it came out that I found out that she was a murderer. A serial murderer. Mostly just of inconvenient people who'd run across her path so she'd killed them for convenience sake. And then of course she was after me once she found out I'd found out and so more running for my life ocurred.

Ahhh well, I must go now, it's late. But uhhh, on a more pleasant note, I can't wait to taste the food tonight that we made yesterday!

Cheers.