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2001-06-30 | 12:46 p.m.

Had a dream that I met Bill Gates and we were flirting with each other. We went to his office, which was like a suite apartment. I stood in the outer room, waiting for him to complete a small errand before whisking me off to who knows where. You really don't ask Bill Gates what he's up to. I was wearing a burgundy gabardine business suit with a skirt. I may even have been carrying a leather attach� case. I looked at the framed magazine covers on the walls. I felt something in my nose, and since no one was around, I quickly picked my nose and ate it. Just as I put my finger in my mouth, I looked up to see the very edge of Bill Gates's head beside the doorjamb. He was spying on me. Gleefully. He was barely stifling a giggle when I spotted him. I threw a temper tantrum and stormed out. How dare you! I shouted. I was mortified to have been caught picking my nose and eating it, especially by a mean and tremendously powerful geek. He would probably tell other people about it, because that's how mean geeks are. I left the office and barreled through some kind of stage-set 21st-century city. Bill Gates came running after me, carrying a large box of chocolates. He must have had them in his office. He must have had a whole stack of them. I was furious. A measly box of chocolates could not appease my anger or humiliation. Finally, he gave up and went away. Then I felt a twinge of remorse. Now I had no one to flirt with and no chocolates. I was just a woman in a business suit who had ruined an opportunity by picking her nose and eating it. Typical.

ANALYSIS: Criminy picks her nose and eats it, despite my gentle (and sometimes not-so-gentle) corrections. I worry that this will ruin her chances for elementary school social success, and she will be branded as "untouchable" by her classmates (many of whom, I have noticed, also pick their nose and eat it). It really bothers me that she does this, oblivious to the inevitable repercussions.

Last night at Felony's dance recital dress rehearsal, I noticed one of the girls, Violet, who already belongs to the untouchable class. She was in the same dance class with my girls when they were three and she was five. Violet is nearly impossible to like. She is disruptive and spoiled. She is also scary-looking, with deep-set eyes and a crazy, stupid expression. I know it is unkind to think such things about a child, but I do think them. I was watching Violet dance last night and wondering how she could still be so ungainly after four years of lessons. She was goofing around during the performance, instead of concentrating, and slipped in her tap shoes and fell down hard. For a second, she looked like she was going to cry, but then she laughed hysterically. It was clear to me that she had the expectation of the despised child that she'd better laugh first because everyone else was going to be laughing at her soon enough.

I have a facetious game I sometimes play (maybe you do too) where I will say, within the context of a discussion of any famous personage, "I'd do him." I think Bill Gates is one of the few people I've ever balked at---though I can't quite remember what my final decision was. Would I do Bill Gates or not? I'm pretty sure it was a no. There's something about him that's extremely off-putting, so my dream Me must have valued his wealth and power more than my waking Me, but even my waking Me acknowledges, ruefully, that I find powerful men desirable in an instinctive, nostril-flaring way. Which is not the same as saying I would flirt with Bill Gates, given the chance, or flash my thong at the president. Necessarily. It would really depend on the situation, and I would never in a million years admit it later, no matter how many FBI agents were involved. (Okay, maybe I would. I don't really know. I don't think, though, that I would be easily intimidated by FBI agents.)

I do not own a business suit, and if I did, it wouldn't be burgundy.

Last night, on the way home from the dress rehearsal, I listened to the country station and they played a song called "Two Dozen Roses." The lyric goes, "If I had TWO dozen roses, and an OLDER bottle of wine; if I really could have hung the moon, would it change your mind?" Felony didn't understand the lyrics; she thought he was saying two doves and roses, so I explained it to her. I was thinking at the time that I really do put too much stock in things like the size or price or effort put into a gift; even though I also believe that it's almost immoral to think that way. So I imagine that's what prompted my disgust at Bill Gates's paltry box of chocolates (he's the richest man in the world!!), and my subsequent disappointment with myself for refusing them.

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