Seeking fun and inspiration in the Reno bar scene

I live in Reno. If you're not familiar with Reno, you could look at a Nevada guide book or do a Google search and see a picture like this one:

Of course, there is more to Reno than this silly arch. There is also a second arch:

When you close your eyes...

Last night, I shook Sam out of a sound sleep to ask: "What are we going to do about the spiders and the sapphires?"

He said I was very persistent, repeating the question a few times before finally dropping the issue and returning to sleep.

This morning, I remembered nothing of this exchange or the dream that inspired it. I was somewhat curious - I detest spiders, enjoy sapphires, and have never consciously considered a connection between the two. I was also horribly embarrassed.

This was hardly the first time I had talked in my sleep. My college roommates would occasionally regale our friends with tales of my nonsensical somniloquies, and I would blush and try to deny each story.

Of first loves and talk show hosts and Canadian nachos

Steve from Wahpeton is married.

The wedding happened a few weeks ago, but the announcement ran in the Fargo Forum yesterday. My eagle-eyed friend Jennie e-mailed me the article, which included the usual laundry list of bridal attendants (where did the term laundry list come from? Who makes lists for washing their clothes? Why not just wash whatever is in the hamper?).

Sadly, the online version did not include a photograph. Jennie assured me he looked pretty much the same, plus a few pounds.

So you might be wondering, "Who is Steve?" "What is Wahpeton?" "Why is Monica writing about this?"

Clutter Conquers All

Wherever Monica goes, clutter shall follow.

I am a danger to myself and others. Invite me into your pristine home and watch random items appear on your bookshelves, coffee table, and any other exposed surface.

My own house is a baffling array of small objects which have taken on lives (and reproductive cycles) all their own. In the time I've been writing this, a camera case and a set of picture hangers have spontaneously given birth to a French card game and some sticks of incense on top of my ironing board.

Today, I made some small steps toward progress. I finally threw away the 2002 Franklin-Covey planner pages that have been on my bookshelf since, I would imagine, 2002. I bought an under-bed storage unit so I can put at least some objects out of sight, out of mind. And, in my semi-competent amateur psychologist way, I decided to self-diagnose.