Last night I was in an Elvis movie. Well, not really a movie, it was sort of real but it had the plot of pretty much every Elvis movie ever made. And Elvis was pursuing me. Did I mention that this was a dream? My mom was a widow and I had a rebellious sister--rebellious because she wore jeans and hung around with a boy. [Scandalous, no?] I, on the other hand, wore skirts like a good girl and helped my mother around the house. This was the 1950's after all.

Elvis came to install an appliance in our home and became intent upon courting me, going so far as to invite himself to dinner and charm my mother into letting me take a chaperoned walk with him. Much to my disappointment, I woke up from the dream just as he was about to sing "Love Me Tender" with the guitar he just happened to pull out of nowhere.

Pregnancy hormones are so weird.