Unweekends.
To me, dear Internet, the weekend is a sacred thing.
Sometimes TFBIM has me roped into going to someone's birthday, or maybe there is something else to do for a few hours on Saturday. But, beyond that, I like staying put and, frankly, doing little-to-nothing. I need the time to decompress and sort of get back into my own head for a while and sift my thoughts. Thought-siftage isn't easy when you are deeply involved in office things and/or the children are sprinting around the house screaming and turning everything to desolation and ruin at 135dB.
So, when a Very Big Client calls up that he'll be in town from Argentina on Friday and he needs to go over all the stuff he hasn't gone over with me since he hasn't been by in 2 years, I know my weekend is shot to Hell.
Suffice it to say my weekend was filled with work (grandparents stepped into the breach) and then when that mentally exhausting bit was accomplished I had to sprint home to be able to catch Wicked: The Musical followed by dinnah out. All in a large group of WTM devotees.
About WTM, I can safely say it wasn't terrible. I would have never rushed myself to such an extend in order to go, but it wasn't unpleasant. It seems to have been very thoroughly enjoyed by the women-and-their-daughters in the audience (I guesstimate 65% of the crowd) as well as very snugly t-shirted, athletic young men almost all of whom had -- inexplicably -- this haircut; these masses of humanity were raving freely about the show while I was saying to myself "Meh. Not bad."
Since we had a matinee (invariably I hate matinees, but I had been looking forward to the show and this was all there was to be had) that meant that lunch didn't happen and we'd have an early dinner. TFBIM's SiL decided to make reservations for out theatregoing group somewhere in South Beach.
Now, for those of you not fully up to speed on South Beach (SoBe) it is an impossibly hip place to be. There are restaurants with names like "Touch" and nightclubs named "Opium." I reluctantly agreed, in part to avoid TFBIM's blue wrath and partly because I was cracking from within with hunger*. We ended up at a place Not Of My Choosing. It was agreed upon because "it has a little bit of everything" which means, honestly, it does nothing well. You simply can't have a restaurant serve Italian, Cuban, Spanish, "Pan-Asian" and Steakhouse Favorites and expect them all to be done properly.
So THAT is how my Saturday was shot, watching a show that was y'know a'ight and an underwhelming dinner.
Sunday (tired yet?) I had to sprint out to the South Florida Automotive Concours d'Elegance at 9am -- because I am stupid enough to be its organizer -- and get a modest sunburn as well as a significant portion of the park on my person then sprint out to catch the 5:30pm Mass only to get back to get dinner ready.
So here I am, cranky and tired and un-decompressed.
-J.
* In my rush of Sat. morning I omitted breakfast.
Sometimes TFBIM has me roped into going to someone's birthday, or maybe there is something else to do for a few hours on Saturday. But, beyond that, I like staying put and, frankly, doing little-to-nothing. I need the time to decompress and sort of get back into my own head for a while and sift my thoughts. Thought-siftage isn't easy when you are deeply involved in office things and/or the children are sprinting around the house screaming and turning everything to desolation and ruin at 135dB.
So, when a Very Big Client calls up that he'll be in town from Argentina on Friday and he needs to go over all the stuff he hasn't gone over with me since he hasn't been by in 2 years, I know my weekend is shot to Hell.
Suffice it to say my weekend was filled with work (grandparents stepped into the breach) and then when that mentally exhausting bit was accomplished I had to sprint home to be able to catch Wicked: The Musical followed by dinnah out. All in a large group of WTM devotees.
About WTM, I can safely say it wasn't terrible. I would have never rushed myself to such an extend in order to go, but it wasn't unpleasant. It seems to have been very thoroughly enjoyed by the women-and-their-daughters in the audience (I guesstimate 65% of the crowd) as well as very snugly t-shirted, athletic young men almost all of whom had -- inexplicably -- this haircut; these masses of humanity were raving freely about the show while I was saying to myself "Meh. Not bad."
Since we had a matinee (invariably I hate matinees, but I had been looking forward to the show and this was all there was to be had) that meant that lunch didn't happen and we'd have an early dinner. TFBIM's SiL decided to make reservations for out theatregoing group somewhere in South Beach.
Now, for those of you not fully up to speed on South Beach (SoBe) it is an impossibly hip place to be. There are restaurants with names like "Touch" and nightclubs named "Opium." I reluctantly agreed, in part to avoid TFBIM's blue wrath and partly because I was cracking from within with hunger*. We ended up at a place Not Of My Choosing. It was agreed upon because "it has a little bit of everything" which means, honestly, it does nothing well. You simply can't have a restaurant serve Italian, Cuban, Spanish, "Pan-Asian" and Steakhouse Favorites and expect them all to be done properly.
So THAT is how my Saturday was shot, watching a show that was y'know a'ight and an underwhelming dinner.
Sunday (tired yet?) I had to sprint out to the South Florida Automotive Concours d'Elegance at 9am -- because I am stupid enough to be its organizer -- and get a modest sunburn as well as a significant portion of the park on my person then sprint out to catch the 5:30pm Mass only to get back to get dinner ready.
So here I am, cranky and tired and un-decompressed.
-J.
* In my rush of Sat. morning I omitted breakfast.
Comments
I couldn't decide what was more fun to stare at - the people or the cars.
I'm an exhausted, cranky mess today.
It's (sadly) far less fun when you have to attend to the people and their cars.
T.,
Yeah. Tell me about it. It's bad enough when you swallow your weekend doing things you love (like next weekend when we schlep up to WDW to hang with Poppy & Co.) but when you do things that are pretty much underwhelming...
-J.
Hey, you said that, I didn't.
-J.
I am tacky. Tacky, tacky, tacky.
But in a loveable way ....
Serves Indian and Italian.
No-one ever appears to eat there.
I can't imagine why ...
S'pose we'll have to wait 3 or more years to see a production out thisaway.
Wicked, not so much. I loathed and despised the book - I think I'm the only person in the world who did because I get these horrified "You didn't LIKE that?" gasps when I say that, but yeah, no. I didn't. So, good for you for even finding the musical "meh." And sorry about the dinner. That must have been painful.
I made some chicken stock the other day and thought of you while doing so. It kicked ass and I thought "Hmm, too bad Joke can't taste this. It's only fabulous." Alas, it's gone now, put into an equally fabulous soup that my family happily lapped up.
Hmmmnm we have attended car shows....
I need the sight of pain...to offset mine...
I hate those weekends, I have to admit. It's all go go go and no stop stop stop. And that isn't good for the soul.
That eatery sounds dreadful and what on earth is pan-asian?? Stir-fry (geddit? Asian in a pan? Sigh)
I liked Wicked the book but I hated the follow-up. It made me cross because I'd been looking forward to it and all I got for my trouble was sheer rubbish.
The bathroom makeover is in the "tradespersons keep coming by to give us pricing estimates on tile, flooring and brightwork."
Deadly dull blogging, that.
-J.
It wasn't terrible but it was verrrrrry underwhelming.
-J.