Sunday morning I woke up full of energy. I thought I'd take advantage of my higher frequency and get a few necessary chores--like picking up remaining evidence of my Christmas preparations-- done around the house. I started off a cleaning powerhouse, but then I turned on music. It was all over. Franz Ferdinand's The Fallen came on, and the need to dance took over. I gleefully skipped, hopped, shoulder shook and hand waved my way around the bedroom. Kitty, who sat primly upright in front of her friend The Heater, shot me a look of horrified disbelief before darting under the bed. Every few moments, she poked her head out to see if the insanity had ended and quickly retreated to the safety of the dust bunnies after observing it had not. Clearly, she was embarrassed for me. I exhausted myself after about five minutes of shaking my groove thing, said screw it, and called Emily to see if she wanted to meet for coffee in Fremont. She said that sounded lovely, and off I went. That's what I really wanted to do with my Sunday anyway. A deliciously warm latte with a big chocolate chip, M&M cookie is the perfect remedy when the non-stop drippy weather starts to fray your last January nerve.

After that, we went to a friend of a friend's art show in Greenwood, mostly abstracts. I need to take an art appreciation class or something, because I just don't get it. While I think the textures and color combinations of some pieces can be very interesting, it's obscene to me that a big orange canvas covered in evenly spaced brown dots sells for something like 30k. There must be a key bit of information I'm missing.

So, I just finished reading Toni Bentley's The Surrender. While I'm dying to write a semi-scathing review (I found it disappointing and annoying on so many levels), I don't think I can share my thoughts without taking this at most PG-13 blog straight into NC-17 territory. Saucy Megan is all for it and insists I go right ahead, while Nice Megan is bogged down with worries about her nice mother reading the post. We'll see. Maybe I can put up a disclaimer or something. Warning: Concerned parties (Mom, please stop reading now) continue at your own risk.