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Last night I dreamed I was in a commedia, playing both a Dottore-type and a Zanni servant. Not at the same time - in dream logic, there were two of me playing the two roles, but my viewpoint shifted to whichever was speaking.

As Dottore I expounded on the Philosopher's stone turning lead to gold, and how that might be applied to turn the dross of a servant into a Dottore. Perhaps by breaking down the Zanni into its constituent components of generation, e.g. sperm and egg. Then as Zanni I took that particular argument to a waaay inappropriate level.

...I blame the fuzzy upstairs neighbor's excellent sangria.

(no subject)

Galen has a new fort.
Jean Guillaume and I placed an order for more charcuterie supplies last week, including several bags of sawdust for smoke. They came in a large box filled with packing paper.
It took him a few days to figure out how to get in without tipping it over, but he managed:
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