n a t h a n

Last night I was talking to my sister Amanda on the phone when our other sister Chrysta called. Instead of clicking over, I merged the calls, and we proceeded to have a 45-minute conference call.

Among the topics discussed:

• an old neighbor who just had her second child with a Hall of Fame football player’s younger brother, who apparently has children from a previous relationship as old as our neighbor
• our grandfather’s hilarious appearance at the family Easter gathering (he snuck in the back door with Easter baskets and hid them, gave a speech about running into the Easter bunny on the way there, and demanded photos be taken of his baskets and emailed to our grandmother, who is still in Florida)
• the Facebook group our uncle recently created for his photography business which Chrysta and I refused to join. Amanda joined, but claimed she only did so because she thought Chrysta and I already had. (Chrysta’s boyfriend also joined.)
• if Adele Mitchell is still dating that football player

Of all the conference calls I’ve been on the last few months, this was definitely the most productive — and the most entertaining.

I think we might have to start scheduling these every two weeks.

Last week I had a very strange and random dream that included a reference to a friend of mine. For some reason I decided to email her about it.

I was in the George W. Bush presidential library (which I guess meant I was in the future, because it hasn’t even been built yet) with my grandparents. I wandered off and saw Barbara Bush laying in a bed that looked like it was a part of one of the displays (W’s childhood home) recovering from her recent open heart surgery (which she actually had earlier this month). We chatted for awhile but I could tell she was getting tired so I left her to get some sleep.

I found my grandparents and we headed over to the food court, where we ran into Alex Trebek. One of the kids in my mentorship group at Bel Air is his neighbor, so when I introduced myself and Alex said he had heard about me because he knew one of my friends, I assumed it was this kid.

“No,” he said, “it’s Kristen Dxxxxxxxx. She’s family.”

Here’s what Kristin just wrote back:

That’s funny because I am related to him by marriage I guess.  No blood relation, and I’ve only met him twice.  He married my mom’s aunt Jean, and they live here in LA.

Holy shit. Alex Trebek’s message in my dream WAS TRUE.

I’m still coming to grips with this.