Yoga’s great for calming me down while I’m in class, but that feeling doesn’t last long enough.

Of course, I’m very rarely anywhere NEAR Kristen Bell’s meltdown level.  This is funny, kinda cute sometimes, and so very weird.

• John made a pot roast (roast beef?  Is there a difference?  I don’t really care – delicious either way) for dinner tonight.  The house smells fantastic – like red wine and onions.  Warm red wine and onions.

• I got a 96% on my fourth homework assignment in my data modeling class.  I was debating whether or not to argue with the professor because I think (and John agrees) that she’s wrong about that one answer.  I decided not to.  I got a 96%.  Arguing for a 100% isn’t necessary.  I’m letting it go.

• I’m drinking white wine instead of red even though we’re having pot roast (or roast beef) for dinner tonight.  Ask me if I care.  (Hint: I don’t.)

Sorry – no brain, loud music in the basement (the band is rehearsing), and I want some soup.  Wonton soup.  (I had egg drop last night – no, two nights ago.  Love that stuff.)  I lost my train of thought, realized I have nothing left to say about the Eric Johnson concert, and then stared at the screen until it went out of focus.

Oh, you know what’s really totally not cool?  Wearing cologne to the gym.  It’s so unnecessary.  Yesterday, I was on one of the machines, and the guy on my right smelled like he had bathed in the stuff.  It was very irritating to my already irritated nose.  He moved on after 10 minutes or so, but the scent didn’t.  Dude.  It’s okay if you don’t smell like roses.  You’re at the gym.  You’re getting sweaty.  And nobody cares.

And there goes my brain again.  Lost for another 20 minutes.  I need soup.

*This is not entirely true.  There are plenty of rainy, snowy, or otherwise gloomy days when I am happy as a clam (usually because I’m snuggled up warm and dry with a book).

I’m not ready for Thanksgiving.  Mentally.  How did it get to be late November?  Wasn’t it August, like, yesterday?  What happened to August, anyway?  Well, crap.  I must be old.  Maybe I can find a way for the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas to slow down a little so I can enjoy them.  Unlikely.  I can’t get today to slow down – how could I get whole weeks to stop rushing by?

On the other hand, no work for four whole days!  Yay!  Save some green bean casserole for me.  That’s all I care about this year.  That and sweet potatoes.  And stuffing/dressing/however it’s made – I love it either way.  Really, it’s just the turkey I can do without.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Nice thing #2: Yoga.  I like it.  I’m all relaxed.  Hungry, but that’s what strawberries are for.  My yoga instructor says we shouldn’t drink anything for 15-20 minutes after we’re done because our bodies are detoxifying.  I’m not exactly sure what it means, but I’m always really thirsty when class is over.  Waiting 20 minutes is like torture.  But I was talking about nice things.  Like strawberries.

Nice thing #3: Strawberries.  I bought some when I went shopping on Friday, and oh crap.  It’s been almost a week.  I hope they’re still good.  If they are, that’s dessert.  Dinner was nice thing #4.

Nice thing#4: Whole grain English muffins with cream cheese and strawberry  jam.  Why whole grain?  (That’s what John wants to know.  Why would I ruin a perfectly good idea by buying whole grain English muffins?)  Because that’s what I saw when I was at the store.  I have no ulterior motive.  It’s nice that they’re better for me and they taste essentially the same (especially when covered with cream cheese and strawberry jam), so why fight it?

Okay, people, you can relax now.  The strawberries are fine.  I’m going to eat them.  Right now.  Good night.

First things first: I made brisket for dinner on Sunday.  It cooked all day long, smelled fantastic.  Last time I made it, I didn’t cook it quite long enough, so I added time this weekend.  I kept an eye on it, added water, and kept it tightly covered, but I guess I didn’t add enough water at the end.  Maybe.  I’m not sure, but the bottom was not edible.  Very tough.  The rest of it tasted fine, so we ate it anyway and put away the leftovers.  Within a couple of hours, by bedtime, I was not feeling so hot.  Like so not good that I was contemplating sleeping on the floor next to the toilet.  The smell of the brisket was SO strong we had to open the windows, and when I did crawl back into bed (bathroom trashcan nearby), I tried to sleep sitting up, knees up, head tilted forward and toward the fresh air coming in from outside.  I didn’t have a good night.  By about 3am, John wasn’t having a good night either.  Neither of us could sleep facing the hallway (even after John closed the door) because the overpower smell of brisket was nauseating to us both.  That’s a tragedy.  Brisket is one of the best smells in the world.  We were a little woozy the next morning, but we got over it.  John even made a brisket sandwich out of the leftovers for lunch today.  He’s braver than me.  We’ll see how he feels tonight.

This morning, after a light dinner last night and a normal night’s sleep (I’m feeling much better, thank you), I took the dogs for a jog around the neighborhood.  We turned down this one street, and every dog on the block started barking at us.  Making a HUGE racket.  Roxy and Riley were really good, though.  They stayed on the sidewalk with me, didn’t bark, didn’t lunge.  About halfway down the block, a woman across the street from us was admonishing her barking ankle-biters and eventually scooped one of them into her arms.  We got past them, but all that little-dog barking was getting louder and louder…I looked back and I saw a pug charging across the street toward us.  I grabbed Riley’s collar to keep the crazy down, and the pug stopped short right in front of Roxy, who didn’t even flinch.  That pug was inches from her face, barking his head off, and Roxy stood her ground and looked at him, head cocked to one side like she was confused.  Maybe she intimidated him (’cause Roxy’s SO scary).  He ran back home a few seconds later.

For those of you who were wondering, John feels fine.  Maybe it wasn’t the brisket.

I did, and it was fine.

You know what I love?  Three-day weekends.  I LOVE three-day weekends.  Even when they’re full of stuff to do (calculus quiz) and errands to run (too many to count), that extra day gives me SO much time.  I don’t feel rushed.  I love that.  All weekends should be three days long.

You know what else is fun?  Updating your Amazon wish list.  It’s like following all those links and getting lost in Wikipedia, except you’re finding stuff you want to buy.

And you know what ELSE?  A cooking brisket is one of the best smells in the world.  And there’s only about half an hour left before we can eat.  I’m not sure John is going to last that long.

Happy Birthday, John!