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I had a lot of scary dreams last night. The problem is, I don’t really remember any of them. Well, I sorta remember one, but I’m still not entirely convinced it was a dream. *g* I was laying in bed, and I was pretty sure I was awake, when I heard someone whisper my name. “Rooooooooob…” said the voice, since that’s my name. And it wasn’t one of those “Are you awake, Robby-poo” whispers, either. It was more like one of those “Just thought I’d spook you a bit before I jam this here fork into the back of your skull” types. So it freaked me out. A lot. As in, I was instantly covered in roughly 30,000 goosebumps. I tried to respond with what seemed a logical reply (That is, “What?”), but though my mouth formed the word, my voice refused to comply. My back was to the bedroom door, which seemed the most obvious place for a killer to enter the room, and I didn’t want to turn around without first warning he/she/it that I was doing so (you know, in case they were jumpy deranged killers, instead of just regular deranged killers). After about five minutes, I finally got my voice to work, but I didn’t get an answer. So I rolled over, sorta slow-like, and there wasn’t anyone there. So I tried really hard to convince myself that I had been dreaming. Just to be safe, however, I moved my feet away from the edge of the bed, because under the bed seemed the second most likely place a killer would be.

Anyway. I’ve had a really busy week. I’ve attended a wedding each of the last two weekends (for example). In the first, which was here in Ames on the 23rd, I witnessed Jordan Tackett (floormate, friend, guy who lived in the room which collapsed before me) and Lindsay Wright become spiritually and legally united. In the second, which occurred on the 30th somewhere outside Fumblebuck, IA, friend and fellow English grad student in crime Amanda Metz became Amanda Bemer (pronounced “Beemer”, as in, “I’m over there in the Kia… my Beemer’s in the shop”) following a very close encounter with one Matthew Bemer in the vicinity of a minister and several friends and relatives in fancy clothes. It was at least a two and a half hour trip out to the boonies, but I only had two hours to get there, because Justin distracted me with Tenchu. Luckily, I was able to apply Robbystyle’s First Law of Velocity: One can get places earlier simply by going very, very fast. I think I averaged 85 MPH there, and got to the church five minutes before the ceremony started. On the way home, however, Amanda made me promise not to go 85, and I acquiesced. Instead, I probably averaged 95 MPH. :) I discovered that wind is a dangerous factor when passing semi’s at speeds greater than 100 MPH, which may have to become Robbystyle’s Second Law of Velocity. *g*

The weekend before last, I also saw Debbie to the airport for a month-long trip to Jolly Olde England, which I’m told is a really big island somewhere to the east of civilization. She’ll be spending roughly a month there, eating fish and chips and drinking ale straight from the barrel, before coming back to the safety, sanctity and sanity of Ames the weekend before classes begin. I’m hoping she brings me back a pair of those funny teeth everyone over there likes to wear.

In more somber news, friend and co-worker Mark “Captain Greybeard” Hagley (pictured above) suffered a heart attack in the wee hours of Friday the 23rd, only a day after returning home from vacation. I’m told he had to be defibrillated seven times (meaning he had far too many fibrills) on the way from Ames to Des Moines, and that one of his arteries was 100% blocked, requiring an emergency angioplasty. The good news is, Mark is now at home, doing well. Get better quick, Mark. We’ll hold down the fort until then, matey.