Sunday, February 28, 2010

Happening now.

The past two weeks have been one crazy and intense whirlwind.

So, it all started last weekend, when I worked two days straight at Historic Columbia, giving tours for the very first time, and we were so busy that I didn't sit down once, which meant 9pm nights for me on Friday, Saturday and Sunday (lame!) and made for a horrible Monday, when I did my first workout with Jillian Michaels, dubbed The 30 Day Shred; needless to say, it shredded me, and I barely recovered, drug my 45 lb. feet around all day, toured the Fall Line exhibit at the Museum with all of the sweet and energetic Columbia docents, after which I came home to Hubs, who I made baked spaghetti for, because he loves it; and then, the Winter Olympics have made for very late nights for Hubs and I, because although we are not accustomed to watching televised sports, we LOVE the Olympics and were unable to tear our eyes away from the fantastic athletic feats of our Olympians until 1130pm some nights, which means that Hubs has been taking even more cat naps on the couch than ever before, and I have (as usual) been vacuuming and cooking up a storm; risotto, homemade pizza, slow-cooked ribs and rosemary yeast rolls in an iron skillet have been scenting the cottage up quite nicely. Not to mention that Will and I celebrated one of his coworker's birthdays at Wild Wings Friday night after a full week of working, cleaning and shredding, which meant that one cocktail quickly led to four with a few split birthday shots somewhere in between, way too much foolish dancing to horrible 90s songs (I mean, really, who does "HEEEEEEEEY, HOOOOOOOOOO" anymore? Who?!) while I stared down the DJ in the hopes that he could read my mind or at least hear the screams in my head for "BEYONCE. Hello! Play Beyonce or the Black Eyed Peas. I mean honestly!" But, as usual I was the youngest one there and the only one who didn't want to do the Tootsie Roll (yeah, it was one of those dance parties thanks to Mr. DJ) except of course for when he put on "Jump On It," which I promptly responded to by screaming, jumping up and down and hopping out to the dance floor to do my rendition of the Fresh Prince of Belair's "Dance Contest" episode, but apparently I was the only one there who ever watched the show and knew the reference, so when I looked up expecting to see everyone in sync with me, I was completely disappointed to see that I was utterly alone on the dance floor and was at that moment the entertainment, but that didn't stop me, I finished the dance proudly and then sauntered off the floor to chew on ice cubes because it was an inferno in there! That night ended with a wobbly trip to Wendy's and a small fry and chicken nugget later, I was asleep on the couch with Hubs by midnight; we woke up blearily at 1245am, me with an aching jaw from leaning against Hub's shoulder and with Hubs hungry for some cereal. Saturday was a tour day, but luckily I only had to give two tours which allowed the apocalyptic war that was raging within my female organs to calm down before I had to spend the rest of the night sitting upstairs at Seibels House (working as rental assistant) as a drunken wedding reception thumped beneath me. Thankfully, that ended early enough that Hubs and I were in bed by 1230, which made Sunday a lazy morning of pancakes and coffee and SHOPPING, as a quick trip to Dollar Tree landed me the proud new owner of prep bowls for cooking; TJMAXX afforded me a new soy candle that smells like lemons and a white trivet in the shape of an owl (a-dor-a-ble); Target allowed Hubs and I to make our very first appliance purchase, which was a microwave to replace the ugly white one that took 20 minutes the other morning to heat my coffee from room temperature to lukewarm, and also a new lampshade to replace the paper lantern one that the Panther decided to have for supper one day. And now, after a delicious dinner of Greek pork chops, mashed potatoes, mushroom, onion and red pepper stir fry and butter beans and two loads of laundry and sweeping the floor and cleaning the bathroom, I am ready to curl up on the couch and imagine what life will be like in West Virginia, because I hope it will be at the pace of molasses.

Whhheeewwww... glad I got all of that out, and all in one breath, too.

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