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Archive for March, 2017

Mondays are a hectic day for me. I go to ballet class in the morning, come home and go into a flurry of housework (today’s agenda: laundry, dishes, sweeping/mopping, dusting, gardening, and tossing some food into a crock pot… all in two and a half hours), then I grab a quick shower and it’s back to the ballet studio to teach.

(Weirdly, that’s how my Mondays were in Clear Lake last year: class in the morning, housework and cooking, then back to the studio to teach for three hours.)

This Monday comes with a cute story:

Background: Our spring performance is this weekend, so our rehearsal schedule has been getting more intense. We did some rehearsing in costume yesterday, so I decided to do my “performance hair”– a high bun. Now, since my hair isn’t terribly long and thus my bun isn’t very big, I’ve decided to wear a “fake bun”– think a scrunchie of hair curlicues. I make a regular bun, put that fake bun around it, then add the hairnet and hairpins and viola! I suddenly have more hair.

Which brings us to our story: In my intermediate class this afternoon, I was explaining to a student the importance a bun for ballet class (she had a long braid which had whipped her in the face when she did a quick detourne). Another student, who is a Junior Trainee in the company,  interjected with “Your bun looked so pretty yesterday!”

Me: Really my fake hair?

Her: It was fake?!

Me: Yup ( then explained the reason for it).

Her: It was so pretty!

… Well, at least I know now that it looks believable.

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After I got done scaring the pants off my husband this afternoon, I went to visit a park I haven’t been to before.

I had a lovely time. The park was beautiful; I petted many dogs and climbed several trees.

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I took a whole bunch of pictures on my phone, but for some reason this was the only one that would load on my computer.

It should have been over then. But, as I was nearing the end of the trail I was on, I noticed a small, narrow trail leading off into the woods, and decided to follow it. The trail itself ended abruptly, in an area that was surrounded by woods. That was when I made a stupid decision.

A very, VERY stupid decision.

I decided to leave the trail and explore the woods.

At first, I had a blast. I was enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells of nature; and I had a great time exploring. I had made note of some landmarks to help me find my way back to the trail (particularly, a fallen tree with some prickly pear growing around it)…

…but I went a little too deep into the woods.

Then I couldn’t find my way back to the landmark, OR my trail.

I have both GPS and a compass on my phone, but in the end I just listened for road noise and followed those sounds until I got back to a trail.Not the trail I was on, and NOWHERE NEAR where I started, but once I found the trail I followed it back to civilization.

The moral of this story? Don’t be me. Stay on the trails and don’t get lost in the woods.

(I had fun in the woods, though)

ETA: Please excuse the language, but I thought it was appropriate:

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On my way to hike in a new park this afternoon, I stopped by a convenience store to grab some snacks. I didn’t see my husband inside the store, but when I left I saw his truck parked outside. On a whim, I thought “I’m going to play a prank on him!” let myself in, and hunkered down in the driver’s seat.

(The door was unlocked. It’s worth noting that at first I thought “I sure hope this is his truck, because otherwise it’s going to be very awkward when the real owner gets back.” But then I recognized his business cards and heaps of fast-food trash, so I knew I had the right vehicle)

It was a few minutes before he came out of the store, but when he did I popped up and waved. I definitely startled him! He was surprised to see me there, but agreed that I certainly “got” him.

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My last dance company had their spring performances this past weekend.

They used to rent out one of the University of Houston theaters for their shows, but lately they’ve been hosting their performances right in the studio.

So: If I had stayed in Houston, I would have spent the weekend performing Burlesque in a small studio in middle-of-nowhere Clear Lake.

Instead, I spent it rehearsing for Firebird; to be performed in one of the largest/fanciest theaters in this city.

Life comes at you fast.

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(Disclaimer: This post includes some mild TMI. Don’t read on if you can’t deal with vomit or sweat.)

I forgot to tell you, reader, about how last Saturday went down.

  • Near the end of rehearsal, I started feeling very, very shaky; and soon nausea set in. Just as I was about to leave the studio, I realized “I better get home quickly, because I am about to throw up.”

(Have I mentioned this happened during a downpour of Biblical proportions? Because it did.)

  • By the time I made it to my exit, I was shaking like crazy. Once I got home I bolted to the bathroom and proceeded to throw up in a violent, painful way. This went on regularly for some five hours; until I finally calmed down enough to keep down some water and saltines.

It’s worth mentioning that Craig was out of town at this time. Even though I tried to distract myself by watching movies on my laptop, and random noise that I heard caused me to jump out of my skin.

  • I finally got ready to go to sleep, when I started sweating profusely. I’ve had night sweats before, and I thought this was part of my body’s way to rid itself of whatever had made me sick earlier… but that doesn’t make it any less unpleasant. Your pajamas are soaked and stuck to your skin; all your sheets and pillows because grossly damp, and you become aware of the fact that you don’t exactly smell nice.
  • Just as I drifted off, I heard my two cats making a racket. I looked over the edge of the bed, while I didn’t see anything, I could tell by their behavior that there must be a (big) bug in my room. I was NOT equipped to deal with bug-slaying at that moment, so I rolled over and prayed the cats would dispose of it (Sure enough: after mere seconds of hearing Steve claw at the carpet, I could hear him chewing on something that sounded…crunchy).
  • I drifted back off again, only to be awakened by Steve throwing up on the carpet…right next to my bed.
  • After hearing him scratch on the carpet some more, I discovered he was trying to bury his mess. With my laptop cord.

The next morning I woke up drenched in sweat, and proceeded to clean up cat vomit and look for the remains of The Alleged Bug (I didn’t find them. I guess that’s what made Steve sick?). Then I texted Craig and asked when he would be home, because we sure needed him.

Here’s to better Saturday nights.

 

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I don’t follow Sportsball. Whenever “My Google” pops up with a sports score on my phone’s lock screen , I wonder “Why would you EVER think I care!??”

Until about five minutes ago.

When I opened my phone just then, I saw a basketball score. And as soon as I saw my old city (Houston Rockets) playing against my new city (San Antonio Spurs), I called out “GO SPURS, GO!”

And at that moment, I became San Antonian.

 

(P.S. Spurs, you had better win; I just wrote a blog post about you).

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If you leave a bag of deer corn in your garage for too long, it will become infested with weevils.

The weevils will then, after they’ve laid waste to your deer  corn, proceed to INVADE YOUR {bleep]ING APARTMENT.

And then you’ll be brandishing a can of Raid  and wondering which Biblical plague you’ve stumbled upon.

(The problem has been taken care of– yesterday my husband removed the offending bag, and the exterminator from the apartment complex sprayed the garage down. But I’m still squicked out because BUGS, ICK)

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