The alarm is set for 5:00, because my intention was to get up early and run before I go to the office.
Yeah, okay so that didn't happen. I hit the snooze more times than I can count.
Anyway, I do my morning yoga, make my coffee, drop the bacon in the coffee to flavor it, and eat my break-fast. Head to the office around 7, where I do Spark stuff, putz around with an article I'm supposed to have already finished writing, and "work" until 11:30 when Grandma brings Little Bear by to see me. He's just finished story hour at the library and brings me a lovely picture of a squirrel he'd colored blue. I guess someone else was using the brown crayon because lately that's been his favorite color.
I meet them at the Mall for lunch, where Bear is eating all of Grandma's broccoli from her Chinese stir-fry-high-fat-hear-your-ar
teries-clogging lunch. I hemm and haw about trying to figure the calories from Honey Chicken, but instead opt for the slightly healthier option of a 6" Subway Club. Yay me! Oh, but then I eat some chips, so Meh.
"Broccoli GOOD!" Little Bear tells me. I agree. It's one of his favorite veggies, after carrots, "beanies" (which are green or string beans) and peppers -- although he doesn't eat them, just carries them around by the stem in his teeth. But he tells me they're good, so who am I to argue?
He plays for a while on the coin-operated rides, which Grandma and I shake so he thinks he's actually riding. Then we head to the carousel, where he rides twice -- once with Mommy, once with Grandma. He protests and wants another ride, but he knows the drill.
We head home for nap time, at which point I have to read "Maisey, Charley, and the Wobbley Tooth" at least eight times before he's satisfied and puts his head down. I turn on his music and he tells me "Bye, okay?" which is Toddler for "Get out of my room so I can sleep already."
It's a Tuesday, which is a running day, so I dress out, put my hair back in a braid and consider trying to find an excuse that will allow me to blow off running in the 99-degree heat with 300% humidity we've been having. Not finding an appropriate one (because personal safety simply won't do) I head out the front door, leaving Daddy in the living room working, and attempt a new interval running training program. It's four minutes of jogging with one minute of harder running. Do-able, but still agonizing in the heat.
Only three miles and 28 minutes later, I'm back in the house downing a bottle of gatorade. It's ridiculously hot. Too hot for distance. Strip off the soaking wet clothes, splash off in the sink, wriggle into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, and I'm off to practice tap. I have a piece of masonite I throw down on my home studio floor, and I'm still dripping sweat on it as I put on extra thick socks, tie on the tap shoes, and warm up with some varieties of the time step that I only just remembered this morning. I tap around for about 45 minutes, trying to go as slow as I can to make sure the rhythm is perfect and all the sounds are clear. My HRM tells me I'm in the cardio zone. Yay!
But now all play is over, and I'm down to work. For the next hour and a half I drill Nebtidi, the solo piece I'm performing in less than 6 weeks. The video camera sits in the corner, recording my practice so I can send it to my coach. Once I feel I've exhausted my goals for that song for the day, I rehearse a few other songs I'll be dancing next weekend, play around with a Lebanese drum solo, stretch for a little bit, and then sit down with my notes to focus on my students: going over class lesson plans, my private class schedule and syllabus for each student, looking at class choreographies and outlining new ones for the next session -- generally being exhausted, mentally and physically.
Because I have a streak going, I do my 10 minutes of resistance training, although I opt for abs/core rather than legs today, since I'm not sure my legs can take any more. I stretch again, towel off, and head upstairs to the house to see what smells so good. (Daddy's cooking pasta sauce). There's still sugar cookie dough in the refrigerator, and I consider making some more sugar cookies, but opt instead to sit down and process my practice video, and watch some Uzbek dance on Youtube for a few minutes.
Little Bear is ready to get up, so we play blocks for a little bit before it's time for me to leave for Tap class. When I come back, he's ready for dinner. Tonight apparently he's having shredded chicken and cheese with no tortilla, three different colors of grapes, tomatoes, and sweet rice, which he tries to eat with his fingers and manages to get all over the floor. He watches Elmo's world while Daddy and I eat and talk about Star Trek. I have a 4-ounce glass of wine, track my calories, and wonder if I have enough for a piece of spice cake (I do!)
We give Little Bear a choice between a bubble bath, quick shower with daddy or quick shower with mommy, and of course he chooses me. :) He throws a rubber duck around, tries to "eat" the shower water, and helps me shampoo my hair. Daddy dries him off, while I turn up the heat, soaking in the steam and wondering why my feet hurt.
Tonight it's "Clifford the Big Red Dog" I have to read eleven times. Even though we have a dozen Clifford books, this is the only one he ever wants me to read. We page through a couple of others, practice counting up to 17 (I'm very proud!) and then we tell the same knock-knock joke for five minutes before he demands to hold Fuzzy Froggy and kicks me out of his room for the night.
I change out of my robe into some PJs and head downstairs for my 20-minute PM yoga practice. As I'm relaxing in corpse pose, I mentally go through my body's systems, analyzing what hurts and what doesn't, what's tense and what's not, and thinking I really need to get a pedicure. My right foot really hurts, and upon careful examination, I notice the callus that is the ball of my foot has split in two places. Usually this doesn't happen in humid weather, and I'm unprepared to see the raw pink skin under the pad of callus.
Yeah, it's kinda like that. I tape it up and hobble back upstairs. Now it's time to go through my practice notes, analyze the videos, and figure out how I need to schedule my practice tomorrow. I have another 4-ounces of wine and decide I want to spend the rest of the evening playing with fiber. I have a lace scarf I'm knitting, and also several ounces of a beautiful navy/purple roving that really wants to be spun, so I pull out the drop spindle, and spend an hour letting those glorious merino wool fibers slip through my fingers.
I am NOT a good spinner, as I'm just a beginner, but I love it. Eventually I'll get a proper spinning wheel, but the portability of the drop spindle is great.
Hubby and I talk for a few, then head to bed, where I read whichever cozy mystery is next up on my Kindle for the next half hour before falling into a blissful sleep, where I dream of tap dancing alpacas and fantasize that I really will get up early tomorrow and run before the sun comes up. In my dreams, I can hear a monkey laughing ...