Falling apart Friday…and other funny notions:

I am wearing musical pants. You heard me…mus-i-cal. And I love it, it cracks me up. In the ‘real world’ we all call ‘musical pants’ corduroy. But I will now refer to them as musical pants, because of the *shwoosh-sfffzzzttt-shwoosh* noise they make. I was unsure if my musical pants would be allowed as the place I work is cracking down on our business casual dress code. It seems the all high-and-mighty mucky-muck did not appreciate it when two women who work on the second floor wore their corduroy pants. So this morning as I dressed, announced I didn’t care if he was anti-musical pants, and if they tried to send me home to change would refuse to come back. So far no one has comments on my lovely black musical pants.

I am in pain. Let me just share with you all: Hip Hop dance class and 30 years olds do not mix. I repeat. Hip Hop + 30 years old = pain! I would like to think of myself as somewhat in shape, and at the beginning of September decided to return to dance class. So I took on tap (which I did for 16 years) and hip hop. Well my hip hop instructor who is 20 has concocted a new combo for us to learn which is going quite lovely. According to her, anyway. So now with the new combo we’re doing, at one point we go down on our knees, spin, lay down on the floor, pop up, spin, get up, then we do this whole arms over our heads, fold ourselves in half up again thing. Two days later, it hurts me, to even stretch for a pen. Not my knees or abs, but my shoulder and arms. Because I must be so old or so inflexible, I’ve pulled all my upper body muscles. And woo-hoo….I get to do this combo again on Wednesday night. I get to feel the agony for a second week because I have no upper body strength or definition.

Tomorrow is mum’s birthday. Plans had been made and changed. Yet when I called to check in on her today at her office, and she told me they were having birthday cake I was dumbfounded. “Whose birthday is it?” I asked innocently enough because for the life of me, I couldn’t think whose birthday would be now, as she hates half her co-workers. “What do you mean whose birthday?” she demanded. “You one and only mother’s…that’s who.” Oh-uh…my bad. Guess that’s what happens when being sleep deprived for 2 months and last night being the doozy of all insomniac evenings.

In other interesting me-ness:

1. Ida and I have decided ti is a boxer that we want. We are giving up the Boston Terrier theory. Mom is all for a Boxer. Now just to break the news to mom the dogs anme is going to be Aislin (which is Celtic and means 'dream'.)
2. UUummmm I have not been very productive work wise this afternoon and doubt that my inability to focus on work since I came back from lunch will change. I am more sleepy now than I was this morning.
3. 12 days until I go away for Thanksgiving! Woo-hoo!