Just danced to Pink and the Beastie Boys. God help me. (See, Lent is leading me to prayer.)
It's past 11:00 and here I sit staring at this screen. I know whatever I write at this moment will suck, but I said I'd do it everyday, so suck on that, Dear Reader.
I'm listening to Blind Melon (remember them?) and my eyes burn - you thought I was going to say my ears burn, right? I haven't gone to bed before midnight these past several weeks, which is not my normal mode. I'm sleeping a lot less. It feels less catastrophic than I always imagined it would be, except for the burning eyes. I've always been an early to bed girl because I hate, hate waking up. Turns out waking up sucks no harder on 5 hours sleep than it did on 8.
I had a great experience at the Nasher today. The experience was dampened neither by the rain this morning nor by the kids I was chaperoning through a field trip. (I'm a hard ass on field trips - no running! you're being too loud! don't touch that! (Can you imagine someone called me a curmudgeon yesterday?)) The featured exhibition is of Jaume Plensa's sculptures. I don't often love art as much as I think I should. This, I adored. It was beautiful and inspiring and perfect to see with kids and through kids. Can I both love Jaume Plensa and be excited that new South Park episodes start next week?
I can't stop thinking about boba balls. I tried bubble tea for the first time yesterday. Drinking giant balls of tapioca through a fat straw doesn't sound appealing? The tea was tasty enough but the chewy, gooey black pearls were definitely weird. It's one of those things like licorice or egg nog (or beer in high school) where I continue to consume it while thinking do I even like this? the whole time. I'm willing to give bubble tea another go. Would a curmudgeon be all adventurous like that?
Shout out to Not Don, who's partying in NOLA this week. (See, I'm not a curmudgeon! Party on, Not Don! Nor am I defensive. Do not even call me defensive.)