Like beating a dead horse.

I'm sure you all have facebook friends with whom you were never really well-acquainted in real life: people you know (or knew, or sort-of know, or sort-of knew) and added just because, hey, why in egalitarianism's name not? But have you ever had the experience of realizing that one of these people has really good personal style, and wanting to tell said person, but not being able to because you were never really friends with them in actual, oxygen-sustained reality?
Didn't think so.

This was a weekend of awesomeness, not only because of the sunshine (bright! sustained!) and the prodigious amounts of candy H. and I bought/consumed, but because Hook completed his first half marathon on Sunday. I got up early to see him off at the start, walked down to the ocean to try to catch a glimpse of him as he ran along the Great Highway*, and was there at the finish line to take some profile pics. Hook, I am ueber-proud of you: 13.1 miles is hella impressive!

In other news, I've been having oddly realistic, very disconcerting dreams lately. A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was accompanying Gaby's class on a field trip to a racehorse rescue farm - you know, where old horses go to die natural, unrelated-to-glue-or-dogfood deaths. Within my dream world, all horses were severely lactose-intolerant; knowing this, one of the students mixed a ton of butter in with the horses' feed and killed all the racehorses. The opening image of this dream was an aerial view of the rescue, the horses streaming in through the gate of a fenced pasture, waiting - an image not unlike slaughterhouse footage.
Last night's dream was slightly less menacing: first, Ali (who was visiting me in SF) kept wearing my clothes, despite my requests that she stop. Then, I found myself at a Jonas Brothers' show being held at a dilapidated farmhouse. I went to use the ladies' room before the Brothers began their set, only to find that the toilet didn't work! Naturally, the management asked me to fix it, and I got toilet water all over my coat with the fur collar. Siiiiiiiigh.


*This attempt was an epic fail: I either got there a few minutes too late, or was in the port-a-john when Hook ran by. Ooops.