Here’s what 29 years of sobriety, nearly 65 years of age, 40 years in the newspaper business and rare indulgence in spicy, fatty foods will do to you: I succumb to a pizza craving, which results in a fitful night of Fellini-esque dreams, ending with an ethics discussion with an investigative columnist, somehow involving fistfuls of plastic camping utensils. At least it got me up early. Now on to trying to make sense of the day’s news. And, by the way, it was snowing when I woke. For real.
dream ranch 