I had the weirdest dream over the last few hours.

Last night before I drifted back to sleep for the onehundreth time, I read part of my new book, Alton Brown's Gear For Your Kitchen.  Now, let me tell you, I'm addicted to his show, I've read his first book probably a dozen times since I got it last year for Christmas.  

Hell, I'm so with his show, Good Eats,  that I have watched the same episode twice in one evening.  I've watched episodes on home brewing beer for crying out loud.  I don't even like beer.  Alton Brown is funny and smart, and well, truth be told, cute.  Albeit in a geeky kind of way, but really there is nothing wrong with being a geek.

Last night, though, I dreamt of Alton, oh, stop, not in the way y'all are thinking.  There was no dirty stuff, okay, other than pots and pans and a kitchen. 

Y'all I dreamt he was cooking for me.  Whipping cream, beating eggs, fully dressed mind you, a perfect meal, using some of the ingenious ideas he comes up with, all in my kitchen.  Here, I have a man listening to my every whim and I make him cook my dinner.

I put the man in an apron and set him to work.  Every pot and pan I owned was dirty, the sink overflowed, the food was fabulous.  He served my every food need, then I sent him home to his wife.

How friggin' twisted is that?  

I'll never read either of his books right before bed, again.  Nor will I allow them to rest under my pillow.  If I'm going to dream of a cute, geeky man under my complete control, I don't want to be the kitchen dominatrix, damnit.  

Although now that I'm sitting here thinking about it, since Christmas Eve, I've eaten like two bites of food.  Nothing is appealing at all due to this haze of sinus/cold/sick shit, maybe I would have dreamt differently had I not been wasting away (ha!).
Have a good one.
 Suzy Smith