Week’s End

Checking in with the morning report. Except it’s not morning, but you get the drift.

This was a crazy busy week at work. Bundle that with a lack of ballet classes. I could have found alternative forms of exercise, but instead I sat at home nights and ate ice cream. Like my logic there? Dubliner Mudslide by Ben and Jerry’s has my stamp of approval, FYI.

I would like my reading audience to know that I fully accept all credit for the weather finally turning reasonably warm. I just made a pair of wool socks and I’m finishing up a sweater, you see.

My financial planning software just sent me an email to warn me I was over budget on yarn and coffee shops this month.

Bite me.

Something about summer weather makes me dial my music collection back sixty years or so. This week, I’ve been on a Dion and the Belmonts kick, with a minor in The Lovin’ Spoonful. And can I just say? Runaround Sue is one of the best songs in the whole world. Obvious, I know, but it bears stating. So if you’ve seen me driving around town singing at the top of my lungs and bopping around behind the steering wheel, that’s what’s on my radio.

My husband suggested that I might change my alarm notification on my iPhone so I don’t sit up bolt upright in a panic at 6:15 every morning while Tick-Tock’s theme from Peter Pan echoes through the room. I switched over to cricket sounds, but I wasn’t optimistic. I tried to explain that waking up in a blind panic is inevitable – in fact, genetic – and there is nothing that is going to soften 6:15 in the morning to someone of my disposition. And yet again this morning, there I go. It’s not the crocodiles or the insects; it’s the startling fact of morning before 10:00 a.m. or so. I thought I might give a nice little adagio from Giselle a try. But let’s face it, things didn’t work out so hot for that chick either. She may as well have slept in.

I had a dream last night that a fuzzy, pink something that blurred the lines between a pig and an anteater was following me around and biting me. I woke up with my cat on my chest. While relating this to my co-worker, she said, “Too much fantasy for you!”

I waited for her to say something that made sense.

“Why didn’t you just dream about a cat following you and biting you?”

Do other people dream this way? My condolences.

I closed up the week at an impromptu party at a friend’s house. Papa Murphy’s and the new Green Day version of Rock Band. Awesomeness.

Hope your week ended well. I’ve got fairies and pirates on my agenda for the weekend and I’m fairly optimistic about both.