...turtles?

Last night I had a very strange dream.

I was in my family's Virginia house, where I spent years 7 through 10. Specifically, I was in the dining room, where a giant Fry Daddy had been set up. I was getting a personal cooking lesson from Alton Brown, and we were making... deep fried turtles. Like, actual turtles. They were little, and alive, and we brushed them with melted butter while Alton Brown tried to convince that they'd die instantly in the fryer. I was like, I like fried turtles, but they're so cute and little... so Alton Brown did it for me, and they didn't die. It was a little bit horrible.

Alton Brown dreams aren't unusual for me--I once dreamt I had married him, which was probably a subconscious wish for my husband to make dinner more often--but dealing horrible death to cute little house pets? That was odd. After that the dream went all fuzzy around the edges, and I was probably woken up by my determined-to-nurse-all-night son.

Speaking of, my son recently discovered how to climb stairs. Now it's his favorite thing, and that little bugger moves FAST. You turn around for 3 seconds and he's already upstairs terrorizing the cats. Granted, we live in a split-level with very short staircases, but still. It's disconcerting.

Poor turtles.