<3
I actually had the perfect day today. Thought I'd share....
Woke up at 10am to drive the husbear to work--grabbed a cup of hot chocolate and a banana for the drive. I came home to a call that I'd won a drawing for a free massage at the spa I go to. While on the phone with Patricia from the front desk, I was able to schedule an appointment for twenty minutes later. Score.
I got the new therapist, Mary. At first I was worried because most female MTs don't have the strength needed to work the knots I get in my back. To my surprise and utter delight, Mary specializes in Shiatsu. I walked out of the spa feeling like my head had been put on backwards in a very good way.
Walking to my car, I proceed to get two text messages. The first was from my baby brother, letting me know that his husbear's unit has been pulled from Iraq. After a 10-day debriefing, the Major will be back with us. I couldn't be happier. The second text was from my foodie friend, a budding sartorialist after living in Belgium for two years, inviting myself and my fashion-designer brother out shopping with him next week. Knowing the three of us when we get together, there will inevitably be a wondrous evening of dinner, drinks and general fabulousness to follow. So I have good things to look forward to next weekend--besides my boyfriend's birthday, of course.
I then went to my brother's house to help him with the massive amount of laundry that comes with his McMansion. Seriously, I think the crown molding belches dirty towels when you're not looking. The laundry is obscene. We folded and had a nice chat about his new personal trainer, who thinks that cleansing (ie not eating anything and drinking only water with lemon juice or cayenne pepper, seeing how long your body can last before you crash) is a legitimate and healthy weight loss strategy. She also encourages exercising for days on an empty stomach. Needless to say this trainer won't last long if I have any say in the matter. My brother is on a quest for "thin;" to me, it looks an awful lot like a quest for an early death... or kidney failure. With any luck, I can talk him out of it while maintaining the illusion that it's all his idea. That or I'll get the filet mignon from Kincaid's and wave it in his face around day four of starvation. And a bottle of champagne. He'll cave and we can fire the silly trainer. He's beautiful the way he is, even if he's a whole twenty pounds heavier than when he was an underwear model. He has muscles now, not bone poking through skin in odd-looking places. I think that's a good thing.
We also practiced our tango for tomorrow night: we'll be going to the happy hour milonga at Loring Pasta Bar, $3 house wines and Mandragora plays live until 9-ish. It's always fun whenever we go. We also make a bit of a stir, since gender-neutral tango isn't a big thing in Minneapolis... yet. I lead, he follows (though not well, stubborn son-of-a-bitch). It's adorable.
I stopped for groceries on the way home and used every coupon I could find--we usually just stuff them all in one of the three glove boxes and forget about them but today I was good. I spent $47 and saved $29. Not shabby at all.
Made myself a grilled cheese and got some spicy Italian sausage thawing for dinner, which will be baked ziti with sausage, chicken, mozzarella and basil. I also have the last piece of my homemade lemon buttercream cake with raspberries calling my name from the refrigerator. I have three hours before the husbear needs a ride home from work, three hours with which I can do whatever I like! What will I do? Probably futz with Conscience or watch Torchwood, because my love for John Barrowman's queer ass knows no bounds.
Fuck it's been an excellent day. I should be on sick leave more often.
Woke up at 10am to drive the husbear to work--grabbed a cup of hot chocolate and a banana for the drive. I came home to a call that I'd won a drawing for a free massage at the spa I go to. While on the phone with Patricia from the front desk, I was able to schedule an appointment for twenty minutes later. Score.
I got the new therapist, Mary. At first I was worried because most female MTs don't have the strength needed to work the knots I get in my back. To my surprise and utter delight, Mary specializes in Shiatsu. I walked out of the spa feeling like my head had been put on backwards in a very good way.
Walking to my car, I proceed to get two text messages. The first was from my baby brother, letting me know that his husbear's unit has been pulled from Iraq. After a 10-day debriefing, the Major will be back with us. I couldn't be happier. The second text was from my foodie friend, a budding sartorialist after living in Belgium for two years, inviting myself and my fashion-designer brother out shopping with him next week. Knowing the three of us when we get together, there will inevitably be a wondrous evening of dinner, drinks and general fabulousness to follow. So I have good things to look forward to next weekend--besides my boyfriend's birthday, of course.
I then went to my brother's house to help him with the massive amount of laundry that comes with his McMansion. Seriously, I think the crown molding belches dirty towels when you're not looking. The laundry is obscene. We folded and had a nice chat about his new personal trainer, who thinks that cleansing (ie not eating anything and drinking only water with lemon juice or cayenne pepper, seeing how long your body can last before you crash) is a legitimate and healthy weight loss strategy. She also encourages exercising for days on an empty stomach. Needless to say this trainer won't last long if I have any say in the matter. My brother is on a quest for "thin;" to me, it looks an awful lot like a quest for an early death... or kidney failure. With any luck, I can talk him out of it while maintaining the illusion that it's all his idea. That or I'll get the filet mignon from Kincaid's and wave it in his face around day four of starvation. And a bottle of champagne. He'll cave and we can fire the silly trainer. He's beautiful the way he is, even if he's a whole twenty pounds heavier than when he was an underwear model. He has muscles now, not bone poking through skin in odd-looking places. I think that's a good thing.
We also practiced our tango for tomorrow night: we'll be going to the happy hour milonga at Loring Pasta Bar, $3 house wines and Mandragora plays live until 9-ish. It's always fun whenever we go. We also make a bit of a stir, since gender-neutral tango isn't a big thing in Minneapolis... yet. I lead, he follows (though not well, stubborn son-of-a-bitch). It's adorable.
I stopped for groceries on the way home and used every coupon I could find--we usually just stuff them all in one of the three glove boxes and forget about them but today I was good. I spent $47 and saved $29. Not shabby at all.
Made myself a grilled cheese and got some spicy Italian sausage thawing for dinner, which will be baked ziti with sausage, chicken, mozzarella and basil. I also have the last piece of my homemade lemon buttercream cake with raspberries calling my name from the refrigerator. I have three hours before the husbear needs a ride home from work, three hours with which I can do whatever I like! What will I do? Probably futz with Conscience or watch Torchwood, because my love for John Barrowman's queer ass knows no bounds.
Fuck it's been an excellent day. I should be on sick leave more often.