Last night I dreamt that my friend Sally took a horse to a nearby car dealership to trade it in for a new car. Hey, they're both modes of transportation, right?

I knew I wanted to do something really special for John's birthday. I wanted to get him something that he'd always remember, something that would be really meaningful to him. But I couldn't come up with anything that seemed to fit the bill. Over the summer, though, it came to me. This past summer, we made the decision not to go visit family and friends in Kansas. There just wasn't enough time and money to make the trip. I knew that John had basically made his peace with that decision, but I also knew that he would miss seeing his youngest brother, Zack. Those two are more like best friends than brothers. And they're so alike. Just last night, they were on the phone talking about battery-powered gadgets, and I overheard John say, "yeah, but who really knows what Batman has under his tights?" They're two peas in a pod, in other words. So for his birthday, I got John the best present I could think of: I got him Zack. This Friday, Zack will come to stay with us for four days. Together, the two of them can geek out, talk shop, and even build a solar-powered Rube Goldberg machine if they want to!

Happy Birthday, John. I hope you know how much you mean to me. Have fun with Zack, just don't burn the house down, okay?

About a month ago I opened the mailbox and groaned inwardly: I'd received a jury summons instructing me to show up, well, today. In theory, I'm all about the Civic Duty. In theory, I think it's one of the greatest responsibilities of living in this democracy. In theory, I think it's something everyone should experience at least once. In Theory. In practice, uh, this isn't the best week for me. Can I get a substitute? A pinch juror? A note from my mother? Because really, there couldn't be a worse week for this to happen. Today, Monday, is jury selection day. I'll find out when, later in the week, I have to show up for the trial. Tuesday is Veteran's Day, so presumably there won't be any trials that day. Wednesday I teach: not such a great day for me to be in a trial. Thursday is good! Thursday I could be a juror! Except, you know, for the fact that it's one of my only writing days. And Friday isn't good either, for reasons I'll blog about tomorrow. So today I have to be the Privileged White Girl that goes up to the judge, hopefully not twirling my hair and playing with my iPhone (I don't have an iPhone), and says, "I can be a juror, but only on Thursday." Oh, good. Sign me up.

Update! I've been excused from jury duty! Although I really do believe that it's something everyone should experience, I'm completely glad my number didn't come up this time because it really was going to wreak havoc on my schedule. Now I can go back to eating bonbons and sleeping in late. Kidding!

My advisor was in Michigan recently, and she came back with a present for me. It's a notepad that I can keep by my bedside for those 2 am strokes of dissertation genius. It was so nice of her to think of me, and even nicer that the notepad has something to do with my research:

It says, "Insanity is hereditary. You can get it from your children."

Obviously, everyone knows we're in a recession slowdown. Our dollars don't stretch as far as they used to, groceries are more and more expensive (have you looked at your grocery bill lately?!?), and gas prices are high (though, admittedly, not as high as they were-- I don't think any of us misses paying $4 a gallon for gas). But what's so weird here in Gainesville-- and maybe it's the same elsewhere, I'm not sure-- is that chain stores are going out of business. It's the strangest sight. The Wendy's down the road closed a few months ago because they couldn't afford the rent anymore. Albertson's grocery store, across from Wendy's (hmm...) closed about a month ago. And just today we found out that Linens N' Things is going out of business, even though it's only been open for about two years! I always thought that a recession slowdown would put small, locally-owned establishments out of business first and not nationwide chains, but that doesn't seem to be the case here. Is it the same where you are?

Editor's Note: This rather lame NaBlo post brought to you by a very long week and a very, very trying Friday. Witty posting to resume in the future.

So, there's no place in our house that's safe for drinks. Allow me to explain. We've got a narrow table next to the couch, which would theoretically be a great spot to place a beverage. But our gymnast cats use it as a vault to launch themselves onto the couch. As if that weren't problem enough, Luke's very waggy tail can easily take out anything on that table, leaving it doubly-bad for drink placement. But lo! We have a coffee table! An ideal place for a beverage, no? Well, no. Again, Luke's very waggy tail would take out any drink on the coffee table faster than Godzilla could level Chinatown. "But, wait," you ask, "don't you have a dining table?" Why yes, yes we do. And yet, somehow, Luke's very waggy tail has been known to destabilize the table enough that drinks topple to their doom. I find that there's no safe place for a drink to exist in this house. I have no other choice, it seems, than to transition us to spill-proof sippy cups.

My friend Sally and I have this joke that revolves around one of us saying, "Are you calling me fat"? It's completely stupid, but it puts us into hysterics each and every time. The conversations that end in "are you calling me fat" are usually completely nonsensical. Like such:

Emily: Gosh, it's really hot outside!
Sally: Really? I don't think it's that warm.
Emily: Are you calling me fat?

OR

Sally: I really liked the flowers you sent me the other day.
Emily: That wasn't me.
Sally: Are you calling me fat?!?

It's a great joke, and I highly recommend you take it for a spin sometime. Although, I have to warn you not to use it on people you do not know, or people whom you only know in a professional setting; it has to be with a friend. You don't want to spring this one on an unsuspecting stranger, or on your uptight boss.