On yer mark…

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…git set…

WEDDING WEEKEND.

The frenzy begins (for the Thriller, anyway) today to get ready for Simone’s wedding, which happens 48 hours hence. Family is in from Texas, excitement mounts, hanging details are snipped, and in between teaching and practicing and two unrelated appointments tomorrow, I am preparing my own bad self for the festivities.

Truthfully? It’ll be nice to forget about school for a day. Well I won’t actually forget about it, but I will file it in the back of my reptilian brain for 24 hours. Big bonus: I will get to see all three of my grandchildren for a somewhat extended period of time. Score!

In the meantime, we practice. And practice.

That there’s some funny crap

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Doesn’t matter what your political predilection, these are some pretty imaginative memes from the debate last night, where Mitt Romney now-famously said:

And – and so we – we took a concerted effort to go out and find women who had backgrounds that could be qualified to become members of our cabinet. I went to a number of women’s groups and said, “Can you help us find folks?”, and they brought us whole binders full of women.

Hahaha

Oh, come on. Lighten up. Admit it: you thought at least some of it was funny. :-) Besides, at this point it’s either laugh or launch puppies at a speeding train. Anyone who takes these debates seriously — or worse, would allow watching them to sway his or her vote — is unaware of the pure theater behind them. And forget the boring debates of, say, Kennedy and Nixon in 1960, where a greater share of dignity and protocol ruled the political airwaves. That ain’t good TV; it doesn’t translate well to the “I can only handle three-second sound bites or I lose interest” crowd.

I am So. Over. This. Campaign. Garbagetalk.

RNFs at all hours

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Do you ever chronicle your thoughts at a given time? I woke up at 2:30 this morning, but didn’t get out of bed until 3:15. In that 45-minute span, I had some definitely random NFs:

  • Prince Charles will likely be outlived by his mother, and therefore never have the chance to be king.
  • The windows in our 2nd floor bedrooms are likely 40 years old.
  • How exactly do phones recharge?
  • I wonder what’s the best way to transport cake pops.

There were probably more bizarre thoughts, but these are the only ones I remember. And now it’s 4:51 a.m. and of course, I am ready to go back to bed. But no! My alarm (which is still upstairs, dangit) will go off in 9 minutes, and it’ll be time to get ready to shape young voices, one wrong note at a time.

Have a great Monkday — a short week for me this time around, yay!

Up from the grave

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I’m redefining the term “long weekend,” but I think I’m starting to see the sunny side.

The best part of the weekend was getting rid of a kidney stone without going to the emergency room. *Score!* The second best was getting some work done. The absolute worst was not getting to see any of my grandchildren. But that part will be rectified, make no mistake. There are plans in the making.

With a family wedding and Dinner Theatre rehearsals this week, the next six days will fly by. Somewhere in there, I need to practice (I’m playing violin for the wedding ceremony) — I’m really just looking forward to the party afterwards! Yummy food and dancing.

Speaking of dancing, there’s one more feature to choreograph, so off I go, coughing all the way.

I hope you’re doing something relaxing today — grab the time while you can.

FO

The best laid plans

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They all go awry sometimes. I was supposed to be out of town for an appointment today (instead of attending a county-wide teacher inservice), but what’s this? ANOTHER attack of plague? What the world is going on here, fiends, I ask you.

At least this isn’t the erpy kind I had last weekend. But fever? Uncontrollable cough? Sore throat? Teeth chattering? Limbs falling off? To what end, this suffering?

OK, enough whining. Rehearsals actually weren’t that painful this week. There may be hope. And hey, it’s both Finkday and payday — that can’t be all bad, now can it?

:-)

Happy weekend! I’m off to the couch…