Last night I dreamed about yogurt. 


Before I go on, I must tell you that I typed that sentence twice, once with “dreamt” and once with “dreamed.”  I couldn’t tell which was correct, so I pulled out my handy, bright orange, 50-pound copy of The Chicago Manual of Style. 


The answer:


Either dreamed (more typical in American English) or dreamt (more typical in British English) is acceptable for past-tense and past-participial forms.


Since I ain’t no Brit, I stuck with dreamed.  Besides, dreamt just sounds so…Manderley.


Anyway, in the dream I opened a yogurt and it seemed (seemt?) like the container wasn’t full.  Then I realized the yogurt was in an instant soup container, so the normal 6 ounces of yogurt looked puny in the big cup. 


Do you see why I woke up disappointed?  What kind of lame dream is that?  I’d put in an order for a George Clooney dream before I went to bed.  How do you get from George Clooney to yogurt?


I also woke up with a sore throat and that crawly feeling that says “the germs are winning.”  So I heaved myself out of bed feeling altogether unhappy, and prepared to wake up the rest of my family.  Then I glanced out the window.




Not a lot of snow—about two inches—but that’s enough to close the schools in this weather-wimpy part of the world.  A quick email check confirmed my suspicions.


I went into Little Bit’s room.  She was already up.  “Guess what?  There’s no school today!  It snowed!”




I went into Tigger’s room and gave her a shake.  “Hey Tig, there’s no school today!”


She opened one eye.  “Why?”


“It snowed!”


Both eyes opened.  “Are you serious?”




“Sweet,” she said, rolling over and closing her eyes again.  Apparently 7 am is too early for her to remember that she resolved to say “wicked” instead of “sweet” from now on.


As for me, I normally disapprove of snow days, because they interfere with my carefully arranged balance of home/kid/work activities.  However, having told my boss I was sick and with no need to drive the children to school, I took myself back to bed and slept three more hours. 


The yogurt didn’t come back, but alas, neither did George C.

BONUS!  Extra points to the first person to identify the literary reference in this post.

Weather report: snow melted.
Health report: Death warmed over.
George Clooney report: still waiting.




  1. It always amazes me how mothers who have bad colds still manage to do what they have to do.,I remember taking kids to school when what I wanted was to be under some covers  mending.. I hope you did get some rest today:).

  2. I think Gungaboy has it, yes?  Actually your discussion of the old English “dreamt” and Manderley, the house Rebecca haunted.  “Rebecca” was the name of the film.  The first line of the novel is, “Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate.”
    No, I’m not smart–I had to look all this up 🙂

  3. I should read more. I’m glad they closed the schools – I’d hate for your kids to have to call the school administrator’s house and complain. I don’t believe I’ve ever dreamt of yogurt or George Clooney. Given the choice, I think I’d go with the former, though I did enjoy the Ocean’s movies.

  4. On the road to Manderley I’d have dreamt about Suzanne Pleshette if I’d had my druthers.  And RYC:  thanks for the Essence/JJ excerpt; it was most enlightening and length is never a problem.
    That’s what I love about Xanga.  Length is never a problem.  It just blows me away how great Xanga is for letting us go on and on and on and on.

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