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Posted: November 17, 2006 in Calvin, Headspace, Motorcycle

I’ve been having some mad-crazy dreams lately. I REALLY need to maintain a record of them over at Waking Mind. That’s what the blog is for, after all. Anyway, last night I was married to the guy that plays Warrick on CSI (oh, DARN – and Calvin? Hush, you. I KNOW you’ve had dreams about Kate Beckinsale.) We had a BITCHIN’ loft with hardwood floors, a bar, beautiful decor, huge open spaces, and really snobby neighbors. Then somehow things turned all Mission Impossible, the building was blown up, and we were being followed around the grocery store (where else would YOU go after your home was blown up?) by the bad guys.

Yeah, I don’t know either.

Actually, I have a suspicion. My doc and I decided that my brain is finally healthy, and I can go off the meds I was taking for depression and anxiety. Wellbutrin is something that I can just stop taking, with no ill effects. But Effexor is a different beast entirely. I have to decrease the dosage slowly, and in stages. Even managing it carefully, I get the shakes. I get dizzy. I wake up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat.

And apparently I have crazy-ass dreams.

There’s absolutely no way to avoid the side effects of coming off the drug. It SO hasn’t been a joy. But it should only last a couple of more weeks, and then I’ll be done.


I went for a motor ride last night, after Grey’s Anatomy (oh, the love I feel for Grey’s Anatomy). I puttered around the neighborhood for a few minutes before taking it out on the main road for some in-traffic practice. I must say that the ownership of a motorcycle and the use thereof is very confidence-inspiring. It’s hard to feel like there’s anything in this world unable to be achieved, once one has got throttle-clutch-shift-clutch-throttle down.

Soon, Calvin may even deem me acceptable to ride with, and will actually be seen In Public alongside me on a ride. Oh, the heights I aspire to. Heh. No, he’s not being a snob about it. He wants me to concentrate completely on my ride, and not what he’s up to, so he wants me to practice some more before we go out together. He knows me so well. My attention will be so focused on his cute ass that I’ll forget all about my own business.

I am also occupied with finding just the right personalized license plate to acquire. Service Arizona (dot) com has a search capability so one can find out if one’s desired plate is available. I’ve been having a bitch of a time. All the plates I want are taken. It’s hard to come up with a five letter/number combo that accurately portrays my fascinating personality.


I’m on vacation for the next week. I have no plans. We’re going to the G-Rents for Thanksgiving, so I don’t have a lot that I have to cook. I anticipate the occupation of my days to be thus:

  1. Sleep late.
  2. Eat food.
  3. Work out.
  4. Ride the motor.
  5. Do something vaguely useful.

Numbers 1, 2, and 4 are guaranteed to happen. Numbers 3 and 5? Rather less likely.

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