I...

miss dance.
ever since i rediscovered some songs by iron and wine i have been remembering just how good it felt to move! like, really move! just appreciating the blessing it is to have a whole, mobile body, and remembering visions of movement in ideas in my head and the translation they made into actual forms. i always knew i was a bit of a dance freak - if i was in Mean Girls, i would have sat with the art kids who put bologna on each other's faces in the style of papier mache - but it seems like a small part of my art-side has taken leave from the rest of me...

or maybe i have channeled it into a different art, the kind that consists of closed eyes, slow breathing and endless patience; or supporting someone special when its their time to be the artist; maybe its a skill in itself to simply sit and be still sometimes, when the time for movement is passed.

anyways, would love for you to hear what i have been hearing for a few days now. apologies for the fuzziness - and yes, i suppose you can label me some hippy-beard-loving-art-freak kind of name if you like.

stolen monday

to my extreme surprise, a little bird told me the servers were down at my place of business and one quick call to verify this information confirmed that indeed i did not have to work today. "how lovely!" i thought to myself. "nothing else to do today except passport biz and catching all of the oscar gossip on various websites."

speaking of passport biz, im imagining myself in warm, sunny places with a super long extendy straw so i can drink my margaritas and pinas while laying lazily across at least two beach chaises.

aahhhhhhh.

agenda

to be completed at some time in the (near) future:

• girl time. holy crap, girl time. and not this halfway double dating biz - im talking dinner out, anthro shopping, and much talk of shoes and boys and much eating of chocolate. just my girls.
• im fairly certain i dont own enough hangers to have all of my clothes clean and hanging at the same time, but am willing to take the bet. laundry makes this list, as sad and endless a topic as laundry ever is. whats probably worse is the fact that i have everyday this week come home from work and immediately changed into my bird pants (super fab jammies) ... and i have even chased a little tan terrier down the street in the snow in said bird pants so now all the neighborhood thinks im an unemployed hobo who cant manage normal clothing with buttons and zippers.
• only one line of this next subject is allowed: GET A JOB OR GIVE UP ALREADY. if i am not gainfully employed by easter, i officially resign from my post as Most Ambitious and Fastidious Applicant That Ever Was.
• mopping floors of kitch and bathroom. this is being put off because two of the three creatures living in my home have no respect for for wiping feet (or paws) and there is no sense in Cinderelling it only to necessarily repeat the task.
• and finally, find the time and energy and gumption to tell the following individuals to shut the frack up and be good, normal, behaving adults already: Bobby, Colby's kid brother, Mike the new boy at my work, the mean mailman who gives us dirty looks for the marsh snow swamp surrounding our mail box we can do nothing about, and the folksy singer who is NOT talented but insists on singing right to your fetching face Saturday nights at Pepperbellys.

why is colby hiding, you ask?

because he instigated The Great Computer Crash of '08.

and only today, as i am reminiscing about our wedding do i discover that the photos taken by our friends and family that day have disappeared off our backup hard drive.

(commence sad face)

i guess im not that sad because im sure our amateur photographer friends all still have copies somewhere of my favorite candids. but perhaps the situation would suck less if our wedding pics had survived instead of this one:

V day or D day?

so in eight days will be valentimes (thats how its spelled and said on Radio From Hell, my go-to for just about everything) and i have decided to boycott. colby's birthday is at the end of this month so we are scooting the celebrations just a few weeks back instead of following the trend of overpriced flowers and overcrowded restaurants.

here's the thing though:
i have prepared myself to be cautiously un-disappointed with any romantic gesture however small because my scale of whats romantic and whats possible is totally out of whack! i have just moved onto my latest book choice, P and P, and wondering if i should have chosen another mystery/murder given the season of the year... ugh, novel romances are toooo much in the realm of fantasy - whats a girl to do? any gent short of a mr darcy is simply not enough!

on a most humorous sidenote: i just saw on a blog of a friend of a friend a widget with the twilight apple and text that says "my heart belongs to my husband, but my throat belongs to edward."

vomit.

although it proves my point about love stories walking the thin sci fi/reality/fantasy line.