I’ve got to stop waking up to “Abbey Road” every day. And going to school, too, for that matter. I just had this weird dream that one of the Beatles, instead of having brown eyes and brown hair, had bright blue eyes and bright blond hair (I think it was Ringo). For some reason, I got the privelige of getting to go into their dressing room while they were putting on their stage makeup for a performance. Only three were there. If I remember correctly, the missing Beatle was George. Anyway, I got to have my pick of the three Beatles there, and my mind told me to pick the blond/blue eyed one so that we could determine my genotype through our offspring. (Yes, too much Honors Biology can do that to you). However, despite his attractive recessive genes, I picked Paul. Some time goes on, and the U.S. starts learning that Hitler is gaining power. Evidently it was the forties instead of the sixties. Anyway, for some reason, the blond/blue eyed Beatle was in danger *because* of his blond hair and blue eyes. (Yeah, I know it was the other way around. If you have a problem with that, you can take it up with my subconscious.) Then I woke up.

I think this whole “husband picking” thing has to do with my friend Marcelina’s new suggestion: the Husband-of-the-Month Club. She marries Paul McCartney, Elizabeth Burkhead marries Craig Charles, Chloe Slocum marries Alan Cummings, and I marry Johnny Depp, then occasionally, we switch. Sounds like a good plan to me!