Dispatches from the Far Midwest

Here are the latest chronological bits of Sleepy Eye excitement, offered most respectfully for your perusal.

Last night, the Lowther household waited with bated breath for nine p.m. to come about. At the appointed hour, all four of us (Ali is off in LC for work) sat silently in our darkened living room, captivated by... "Mystery" on Public Television. I can understand my enjoyment of the series, since I am a giant dork. Not so sure about why the rest of the fam was equally thrilled about the show; maybe they're little nerds-in-training. The episode, featuring "Inspector Lynley", was most suspenseful - you know, your basic storyline offering baby-trafficking, blackmail, and three murders. I actually think that the series has a murder quota of at least two per episode. This was essentially the highlight of my Sunday as far as excitement goes.

This morning I registered for fall classes at the School of Education at the University of St. Thomas. (My official student status has already been confirmed since I've activated my e-mail address and created a sadly blank facebook profile, but I guess registration is important, too...) I know: signing up for classes without first attending them? Ridiculous!! Worrying that courses will be filled before you can claim a spot? Ridiculous!! I was quite concerned about both of these things, so I planned everything out beforehand: I would wake up at a quarter to nine (oh so early in the world of Emily), sign into the registration system, and just bide my time until course selection opened at nine. Then I would promptly plug in my selected courses, hoping to submit them before others had a chance to access the website. With this morning schedule set, I flitted off to bed, torn between congratulating myself on a most clever plan and agonizing about the number of other students with equally clever plans.

8.45 came, as it tends to do, and I dragged my sorry self from the warm cocoon of my bed downstairs to the folding chair in front of the family computer. Signed in without a hitch; everything was going as it should. The minutes ticked away, the clocks one computer and website synchronized, to my astonishment. At nine, I punched in three course registration numbers, held my breath, and clicked "submit".

A confirmation page appeared without delay: "You are registered for the following courses: Organizations and Administrative Law; Politics in Education; Research Design, Analysis and Critique I."

I was back in bed by 9.10. How anticlimactic.

This interrupted sleep led to a very strange dream wherein my neighbor (in real life, a twenty-three-year-old band teacher; in the dream, a crotchety old woman) called the police on a group of us for walking past her house. This led to a house party at which I was forced to play hostess to the police squad and an assortment of other troublesome characters. The festivities resulted, somehow, inexplicably, in the activation of an alien computer system that attempted to destroy the world. Ensuring its shutdown was very distressing, especially since its MSN-like interface kept disguising the escape link under pictures of celebrities.

(There was also an interlude involving trying to climb up a cliff but being thwarted because all the solid surfaces were actually made of stretchy putty. Does anyone remember when I didn't recall dreaming at all? Sophomore year, junior year maybe? Those were good times...)

This evening promises a host of new excitements: play practice. And play practice. Oh, and, to shake things up, maybe some play practice. I'm supposed to bring my tap shoes with tonight; better make sure that all the metal pieces are still attached since the last time I used them (when I was seventeen). OOOH, speaking of theatre, I have procured two new bruises...!! The first is tiny and inconsequential, located on the inside of my left elbow. I haven't the slightest idea as to how it got there. The second is my pride and joy. It is vaguely rectangular and can be found just above the halfway point on the back of my left thigh. I would say, conservatively, that it is the hugest bruise ever. Okay, so it doesn't quite measure up to that one I had after falling down some stairs a couple of years ago in terms of sheer width, but as far as depth and tone go, this one receives top marks. It started as a splash of light blue, deepened to a black-violet, and is now edged in a healthy-looking pale green. Aren't you happy to have heard about that? I thought as much!

And on that lovely note, off I scamper home for some sustenance. I'll need my strength later, you know, what with all the dancing and bruising and alien-fighting the night is sure to bring. As long as I don't dream about my own wedding again, though, I think I'll be fine.