Technically, morning will be here in half an hour. But my morning - the morning of all mornings - starts in about nine.
In nine hours I will wake up anything but well-rested because I will have likely been Spawnling's trampoline and food source from about five in the morning while getting only very broken sleep. But I will wake up anyway, because it's going to be the first day in a long time that is dedicated entirely to me and only me.
Let me say that again. It's all about the most important person in the world: me and only me.
Me, me, me.
Me.
No gremlins, no husband, no pets, no housework. No mundane thoughts like is the load in the dryer ready?, no how many vegetable servings did the kids get today? calculations. Nothing ordinary, nothing selfless, nothing responsible or productive or educational in any way. I will have two days of complete abstinence from the real world in which I will enjoy my happy pink bubble filled with friends and rich foods and too many diet drinks at the bar while I dance my face off.
Spa weekend is here! It's officially happening in a really real way and I will enjoy it to the fullest. I'm starting off the party by heading to the Ottawa Bloggers Brunch and will be bringing my sister Photolush along for the experience of meeting other internet exhibitionists. She will see that her sister is not the only one who puts her life out there for other people to laugh at.
The highlight of the brunch? Other than seeing some of my favourite people, I am beyond excited to be meeting Laurie, who I first blog stalked, then Facebook stalked and am now working my way into an autographed copy of her new book. The poor girl is probably terrified to learn that I'll be there and will undoubtedly hide from me at the other end of the really long table, but I'll flash her some Maven charm and she'll come around eventually. Most people do once they realize I'm the harmless kind of crazy.
Then Photolush and I will meet up with the othe girls at the spa and get very self-indulgent things done to our bodies. I fully intend to burst out of my pants at dinner by commiting caloric suicide at the Italian restaurant before destroying my very first pedicure on the dance floor until I drop from exhaustion and fall blissfully asleep in the hotel room with four other girls in various states of drunkenness.
Obviously I will not be drinking, as I've heard that can be a bad move for a recovering alcoholic. Something about complete abstinence? I'm sure I read that somewhere...
In my seventeen years of clean and sober living I've come to appreciate drunk people in a way I never thought possible. Some would call sobriety boring in that you can't share in the inebriated fun. But that's the human character flaw of instant gratification talking; the real joy of not drinking in a room full of booze is that you can remember the stupid crap people do even when they can't. Then you can remind them of it at your convenience for a very long time. For example:
Friend Who Drinks Too Much Sometimes: You were half an hour late picking me up. You're always late lately. What's the matter with you?
Sober you: Hey, remember that time last year when you puked on the cute guy in the bar that was buying you that drink and then puked on the bartender when he got you a towel and then still asked the cute guy for his number? How gross was that? Did you ever tell your boyfriend? But it was so hilarious! Can I tell him? No? Then shut up and get in the car, perfectionist.
See? There are definite advantages to being a non-drinker, and blackmail is just the tip of the iceberg.
Anyway, I should get some sleep. This has been a very busy, exhausting week; hence the lack of blog posts. You can blame the gremlins for their constant bickering and boredom as it lead me to - ick - having to do things with them. Like, come on! I gave them life and now I have to amuse them, too? That's so not fair.
Goodnight! I'll update on the awesomeness on Sunday. In the meantime let's place bets on how destroyed the house will be upon my return. They have thirty hours without me, give or take. On a scale of 1 to 10, I pick 7. But what do I know? I'm just the mom.
Also, Monday is advice column time! Have something you want to ask me? Write to me at mavenmayhem@gmail.com
If you're too lazy to copy and paste that, you can just touch my monkey on the sidebar, over there ---------->
In nine hours I will wake up anything but well-rested because I will have likely been Spawnling's trampoline and food source from about five in the morning while getting only very broken sleep. But I will wake up anyway, because it's going to be the first day in a long time that is dedicated entirely to me and only me.
Let me say that again. It's all about the most important person in the world: me and only me.
Me, me, me.
Me.
No gremlins, no husband, no pets, no housework. No mundane thoughts like is the load in the dryer ready?, no how many vegetable servings did the kids get today? calculations. Nothing ordinary, nothing selfless, nothing responsible or productive or educational in any way. I will have two days of complete abstinence from the real world in which I will enjoy my happy pink bubble filled with friends and rich foods and too many diet drinks at the bar while I dance my face off.
Spa weekend is here! It's officially happening in a really real way and I will enjoy it to the fullest. I'm starting off the party by heading to the Ottawa Bloggers Brunch and will be bringing my sister Photolush along for the experience of meeting other internet exhibitionists. She will see that her sister is not the only one who puts her life out there for other people to laugh at.
The highlight of the brunch? Other than seeing some of my favourite people, I am beyond excited to be meeting Laurie, who I first blog stalked, then Facebook stalked and am now working my way into an autographed copy of her new book. The poor girl is probably terrified to learn that I'll be there and will undoubtedly hide from me at the other end of the really long table, but I'll flash her some Maven charm and she'll come around eventually. Most people do once they realize I'm the harmless kind of crazy.
Then Photolush and I will meet up with the othe girls at the spa and get very self-indulgent things done to our bodies. I fully intend to burst out of my pants at dinner by commiting caloric suicide at the Italian restaurant before destroying my very first pedicure on the dance floor until I drop from exhaustion and fall blissfully asleep in the hotel room with four other girls in various states of drunkenness.
Obviously I will not be drinking, as I've heard that can be a bad move for a recovering alcoholic. Something about complete abstinence? I'm sure I read that somewhere...
In my seventeen years of clean and sober living I've come to appreciate drunk people in a way I never thought possible. Some would call sobriety boring in that you can't share in the inebriated fun. But that's the human character flaw of instant gratification talking; the real joy of not drinking in a room full of booze is that you can remember the stupid crap people do even when they can't. Then you can remind them of it at your convenience for a very long time. For example:
Friend Who Drinks Too Much Sometimes: You were half an hour late picking me up. You're always late lately. What's the matter with you?
Sober you: Hey, remember that time last year when you puked on the cute guy in the bar that was buying you that drink and then puked on the bartender when he got you a towel and then still asked the cute guy for his number? How gross was that? Did you ever tell your boyfriend? But it was so hilarious! Can I tell him? No? Then shut up and get in the car, perfectionist.
See? There are definite advantages to being a non-drinker, and blackmail is just the tip of the iceberg.
Anyway, I should get some sleep. This has been a very busy, exhausting week; hence the lack of blog posts. You can blame the gremlins for their constant bickering and boredom as it lead me to - ick - having to do things with them. Like, come on! I gave them life and now I have to amuse them, too? That's so not fair.
Goodnight! I'll update on the awesomeness on Sunday. In the meantime let's place bets on how destroyed the house will be upon my return. They have thirty hours without me, give or take. On a scale of 1 to 10, I pick 7. But what do I know? I'm just the mom.
Also, Monday is advice column time! Have something you want to ask me? Write to me at mavenmayhem@gmail.com
If you're too lazy to copy and paste that, you can just touch my monkey on the sidebar, over there ---------->