I Like Cake

Friday night, I decided to stay home and do laundry, since I had reached a pretty desperate state and was searching in the depths of my closet for anything clean to wear. I estimate that it had been five weeks since I last did laundry. This is just bad, bad, bad. Laundry seemed to take forever, but at least I was able to go to the gym while my clothes were drying. I watched the Caps game, and I almost fell off the elliptical machine when they scored their second goal. Note to self: no matter how excited you are, it is just not a good idea to try to jump up and down on the gym equipment. When I finally finished my laundry and hung it all over the apartment to dry, Lord Merlin came over and we watched Maid in Manhattan, which was ok and not as dumb as I expected it to be. That Ralph Fiennes sure is pretty, but I prefer him with a British accent.

On Saturday, Lord Kissington and I made an early morning trip to Target (I consider 11 a.m. to be early morning on the weekends), because we had to be at a birthday party at noon (!). I picked up more workout clothes and two supercute Isaac Mizrahi shoes, herringbone tweed flats and velvet strappy wedge things. I can’t really walk in the latter pair, but they are so adorable that I just don’t care.

The birthday party was for the three-year-old daughter of a friend. She was just not into it at all. When I was three, I would have been all over it. You’re the center of attention, you get a huge cake, and people give you all sorts of cool presents. She turned her nose up at the Virginia Woolf cloth doll (courtesy of the Professor and Mary Ann), and she wouldn’t even blow out the candle on her cake. Those of us without children were in the minority among the guests, and we mostly hung out on the deck drinking beer. I decided to listen to what my body was telling (per my yoga teacher’s instructions of last week), and after listening very carefully, I discovered that I have a serious cake deficiency. I remedied that by eating two large pieces of cake with ice cream. This was on top of three kinds of chili (the three year old’s dad is quite a cook) and three beers. So I spent the rest of the day feeling a bit sick to my stomach. It was totally worth it though; that was some of the best birthday cake I’ve ever had.

I thought I was going to have to take my grandmother to church in the afternoon (5:30 Mass), but she decided she didn’t feel up to going so I was off the hook (and I didn’t have to break my tradition of only attending Mass for weddings and funerals). My mother called me and wanted me to try to convince her to go. Really, I am the last person anyone would listen to about attending church, seeing as I never go. I had to attend a family dinner, which was, well, pretty awful. I barely escaped in time to go meet Lord Kissington, bryc3, Baby, and a few others at the Cat. Sadly, even an endless supply of Budweiser wasn’t doing it for me, and I went home pretty early.

I dragged myself out of bed early on Sunday and made it to yoga class with Mary Ann. It pretty much kicked my ass. I haven’t done backbends in ages. But I felt good afterward. Mary Ann and I then had tea and discussed how insane wedding stuff can make you (ok, me). Later in the afternoon, Lord Kissington and I went to see Good Night, and Good Luck. We almost didn’t make it since we were walking, and the Uptown is a bit of a hike from our place. I was determined though, and I dragged poor Kissington on the fastest walk ever, and we made it with five minutes to spare. The film is really good. David Strathairn gives an understated and subtle, but amazing performance. Clooney’s acting is pretty good, and he has definitely proven himself to be an inventive and interesting director. I think I like his first film Confessions of a Dangerous Mind a little bit better, but I was still extremely impressed with Good Night, and Good Luck.

After the movie, I went home and worked out. I completely wore myself out and I got into bed at 9:30. This is unheard of. I usually suffer from chronic insomnia. I actually got up this morning without feeling grumpy and tired. Sadly, there are not enough hours in the day outside of work for me to wear myself out everyday.