2 hour bath, bubbles, candles, smelly soaps--just divine.

As one of my girlfriends pointed out, the best part about Singles Awareness Day is that it's the day before All the Chocolate Is On Sale Day. . .
How sweet it is.

Wow, busy week!! And wonderfully so.

Tuesday was quiz practice: we have way too much fun! In the past three weeks we've worked on our bible verses together and then done either pilates or tiebo, as well as a whole bunch of crunches when we screw up our verses. As our coach says, we'll all look great come Regionals!
Practice is always a little crazy, especially since our fearless--or is it fool hearty?--coach is only a couple years older than we.
Speaking or fearless leaders, right after quizzing, I dashed off to my book group, where the wonder Katy Banham was hosting a tea party for our book group. Well, we maintained the lady-like charade for about 10 minutes. The rest of the time involved a good deal of shrieking, probably why we opted not to hold this meeting in the library.

Lets see, on Wednesday I took Rachel out on a sistah date, and I ended up buying her some really cute clothes treating Starbucks, before dashing home for AWANA. Because our Cubbies secretary was sick, I ended up doing her job on top of my other duties. Although I did fine, I'm glad it's not my normal job!

Thursday I went dancing with some friends, a couple of whom were able to get their dads to come dance with them--Lucky! My poor father was forced to take disco lessons in junior high, and, beloved geek that he is, I don't think he's ever quite recovered from the the serious psychological damage. (When I learned the hustle last week and then came home and forced him to dance it with me, he wasn't exactly thrilled.) But I'll keep working on him, maybe some day he'll come. . .

Yesterday, Friday, involved a lot of babysitting, first for an adorable little girl in the morning and then for two more little angels in the evening. (The latter's parents had gone dancing at the same place that I had the night before, lol!) Babysitting was quite fun, and a good break from the normal school routine, which normally dominates my day from eight in the morning to four in the afternoon. Oh, I also made fifty dollars. Fifty dollars! For watching cute kids! How cool is that!? But while babysitting in the evening, I also had the chance to review my verses for the big quiz meet the next day.

The big quiz meet that I really don't want to talk about. My team totally bombed, and personally I was far from the top of my game. Since your individual scores for the last three quiz meets (including this one, which was horrible) determine weather or not you're among the top 7 quizzers eligible to go to Nationals, I honestly didn't think I would be able to go this year.
Well, I apparently did better than I thought. Turns out John tied for SECOND place overall! After coming as low as I did, and/or biting off all my carefully grown out fingernails in the process, I was really shocked to end up that high. Omaha, here I come!! Now, as I type this, I'm missing my long, lovely fingernails, and my aching, stubby fingers serve as a reminder for me to continue working hard on my verses, and to not jump to conclusions. Nice going, Lyd.

After the grueling meet, (did I mention my team went from second place overall to second to last? Ouch!!) my teammates and just hung at a friends house for some intense mental destimulation. Miss Congeniality and lots of junk food. Yeah baby!

Well, that about sums up what I've been up to lately. It's almost 11.30 here on a Saturday night, meaning that I can still make up for lost sleep and still roll out of bed at 9 and be ready for church at 10. Bis spater, friends, I'm going to bed!

You should be very proud of me. I watched an entire football game yesterday. Well, at least 2/3 of it. Either way, quite a sacrifice.

Hmm, I didn't see most of the first part, where the gods of this age first make their entrance, but I did show up in time for the most of the first quarter, during which the Seahawks were still winning. I'm a Seattleite, so I guess they're my team. I honestly don't care. Call me clueless, but it runs in the family; in the middle of the first half my dad leans over and asks me, 'Wait, just what color are we?'

I guess the commercials were interesting. Ok, all but that hummer one—what morons conceived that idea?

I dutifully held on till the half time show. Like, Omigosh! Who invited the Rolling St0nes to play? I guess it's high time they finally get to play in a Superbowl, because it's pretty obvious that one of them will probably drop dead within the year. They should be resting on their laurels now, not out risking their lives.
After being forced to watch the Stones finish--my mom said it was an educational experience, but I only saw it as yet another reason to value my education, study hard and get a real job--I rather lost interest in the game.

Huge, overpaid, Neanderthals wearing shiny tights and launching themselves into each other; the California Raisins at halftime; the commercials worshipping massive cars; all pomp, circumstance and tears when it’s finally over—if this is Americana, I’m moving to Madagascar.

Oh, life can be too funny. I have a friend who's taking German in high school, and I knew he had a birthday sometime at the end of last month. So I put a traditional German birthday greeting with his name in it as my screen name on Instant Messenger.
Well, I overestimated him. His limited knowledge of the German language was of no use to him, and he saw and all he could make out was his name. Porr guy. Naturally he was a bit panicked.Too funny.
My new screen name? Mia Culpa. Maybe he'll have the good sense to Google it this time. . .

Here, as promised, are just a few pictures from my masquerade. Since over 25 of my closest gifrlfriends came, I probably don't have them all up. But let's start with the wonderful person behind the whole thing, my mom. The catsuit? Victoria's Secret. Well, there are the pics. Enjoy! 

 

 

le instructor. . .  

 

 

 

This is my quiz team, I especially like the one who came as a baby. . .