Fanciful

What Friday night looks like up in here

This is what my house looked like tonight and where everyone was and what they were doing.

puzzles

My dad was doing Sudoku puzzles on the couch.

My sister was making cookies.

My sister was making cookies.

They were supposed to be these cookies, but mistakes were made where egg yolks as well as egg whites were added to the batter so I had to salvage those puppies with my baking skillz and prowess.

Still gluten-free, too.

*takes a bow*

We also did some Flamenco.

flamenco

My mother watched the Flamenco.

She watched even though we only have, like, forty-five seconds of choreography. And it took us, like, four weeks to get there. Don't judge us, man.

She watched even though we only have, like, forty-five seconds of choreography. And it took us, like, four weeks to get there. Don’t judge us, man.

Kiwi loathed us. She pretended to tolerate us, though. All we want to do is love her...

Kiwi loathed us. She pretended to tolerate us, though. All we want to do is love her…

Cue more Flamenco, more Flamenco, more Flamenco.

But, like, the same forty-five seconds of choreography over and over and now in a different direction.

Then Julia stopped by!!

Then Julia stopped by!! We gave her a complete Flamenco show. All forty-five seconds-worth!

Julia had the best hair. We chatted about the marathon and tomorrow’s wedding.

And then she was like, “If I gave you pad thai would you…”

And I was like, “You can stop right there because if you gave me pad thai I would do anything.”

So, it’s pretty much carved into stone that I’ll be doing that chica’s hair some time. And by “doing” I mean “cutting.”

Which is awesome. I have zero training, in case any of you were wondering. I just get a thrill from LIVING ON THE EDGE.

Oh, and Paul was hanging out in the basement.

Basement-couch! Good for lounging.

Basement-couch! Good for lounging.

Somewhere in heaven there’s a file titled, “The many reasons I should never, ever own an upstairs apartment.” Flamenco is only one of those reasons.

Here’s a 43-second video PAUL took of his enraptured appreciation for the Spanish art of dance:

So, yeah.

Small matters, though. He needed to stay awake anyway, since he and I needed to go to the most hipster theater OF ALL TIME to see a production of “Saint Joan.”

Proof that it was the most hipster theater? Probably that the bathroom had a toilet…and two litterboxes for cats. Yes.

Oh, and these mismatched chairs:

Seating for Magenta Giraffe theater.

Seating for Magenta Giraffe theater.

We forwent the armchairs for the theater seats. Wise decision on our part, I must say.

And the play? It was fabulous. I loved it. Talent, talent, talent and I left the theater with a conflicted mind…which is exactly my favorite way to ponder art…wondering about my life and how I should improve.

The leetle bitty theater space.

The leetle bitty theater space.

And now I’m here. Happy evening. Happy Friday. Happy night.

Saint Joan is still showing tomorrow and next weekend, too, my loves…should you be so inclined. 🙂

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