Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

Shark attack, everybody out of the water

Last night I dreamt that Crockett broke up with me, and that he sent his sister-in-law to break the news. He wouldn't even talk to me himself. Fortunately his big comfy manly self was there every time I woke up panic stricken, but still. If dreams are your brain trying to send you a message, what exactly does my brain want me to do? Stupid brain. It is absolutely ridiculous how much that can affect me, though. I understand the difference between dreams and real life, I do. Dreams are not things that actually happened - but since my brain is the place that things that actually happened are stored AND the place that dreams are stored, it is apparently sometimes kind of hard for me to internalize the difference*. Also, if he sent Kim to break up with me for him I would find him and kick him right in the head.

Aight. Now that I got that oh-so-interesting subject out of the way, do you wanna see something cool?

It was my nephew-in-love's birthday party yesterday. His mom Kim, who will not be secondhand dumping me anytime soon, had roughly 10,000** five year olds and their parents at her house and provided them with food, drink, and entertainment. Earlier this week she called and asked if I could help her with the cake, since my NIL wanted it to be shaped like a shark and she hadn't done that before. I, needing practice for Star's birthday cake which-is-going-to-be-awesome, asked if it would help if I just made the whole thing. She said yes, and so I did.

Shark cake

He was pretty badass, if I do say so myself.

Those little sea-faring parasites on his back are candles that Kim picked up, my candle shopping skills are not that good. Anyway, shortly after this he was sliced up and devoured, but I was pretty proud. Arrr.

*My horoscope today, which I read after writing the above paragraph, says "If you glance down and find yourself wearing a pair of ruby slippers (figuratively speaking, at least) don't be disturbed. Only by clicking your heels together three times can your dreams come true. Sure, it sounds Pollyannaish, but you won't know if you don't try. Start clicking." Um... no thank you, Astrology.com.

** May not be the actual count.

Stockholm, Day 7

Stockholm, Day 6