I dreamed that Jack had a key to open a door, and he picked me up and carried me through it, as if we were newlyweds.

from The Dreamer’s Dictionary:
~carry~ profit through the actions of others if your dream involved being carried by someone
~key~ to fit a key in a lock pertains to satisfaction in sex and/or romantic relationships; to turn a key in a lock predicts the opening of new doors

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We ate jalapeno poppers when Jack and Dawna were here, though neither of them like hot food much. I put milk on the table, to be on the safe side. Some of the poppers were hotter than others; we don’t know why that is, but guess they are least hot when freshly picked, and heat up as they age. And we made the poppers with peppers picked on various days.

Last night on a stroll just before supper, I spotted the tractor over by the dugout. With its shovel raised, someone was up on it, working on the new windmill. So I left the gravel road, crossed the ditch, squeezed between the barbed wire, and cut across the pasture, thinking it might be my sweetheart. It wasn’t, though, it was his brother Bill. I stood watching him and chatting for a while, and Farmbeau came driving across the stubblefield shortly. They put the finishing screws on the thing, which has been sitting in the shop for months waiting for them to get time to put it up.

So now, we shouldn’t have smelly black water anymore. The windmill is to aerate it so that algae and stuff doesn’t grow there in the hottest months. This is not our drinking water, but when the bathroom smells like someone took a dump in there whenever you run your bath, it’s not particularly attractive. And that was the case for several weeks this summer. There have been times when I needed a bath but couldn’t force myself to get into that water; just a couple times when I was feeling particularly persnickety. It didn’t last long.