material girl
I've been dreaming about Madonna.
Not On Stage Dance Around Madonna -
Backstage Exhausted And Hanging Around Madonna.
And it's not like I am all obsessed or anything. I'm not aware of any particular feelings for Madonna at all.
In the dreams I am hanging around with her and sometimes I have a hard time getting through the crowds to find her. She's happy to see me and we talk for a while, but, generally, she's kind of tired and pissed off about something or other. I give her advice about Lourdes - who is very bratty apparently, but we don't talk about her son. (I'm not sure I know his name.)
Anyway.
I HATE it when people blog their dreams - so I'll shut up now.
K met me at the door with a cool glass of wine last night. Because. He. Is. Perfect.
And he had cheese and figs inside.
And he made his famous chicken with tarragon cream for dinner and figs in brown sugar over ice cream for dessert.
It was a very nice welcome.
My house was in great shape - and now is not as I have dumped a metric ton of luggage and laundry in the living room.
My day stretches before me.
This week I need to get the kids ready for school:
Middle needs some tee shirts and jeans
Youngest needs the supplies from the list they sent home.
I am meeting a blogger for lunch on tuesday - and am very excited.
Off to work...
Not On Stage Dance Around Madonna -
Backstage Exhausted And Hanging Around Madonna.
And it's not like I am all obsessed or anything. I'm not aware of any particular feelings for Madonna at all.
In the dreams I am hanging around with her and sometimes I have a hard time getting through the crowds to find her. She's happy to see me and we talk for a while, but, generally, she's kind of tired and pissed off about something or other. I give her advice about Lourdes - who is very bratty apparently, but we don't talk about her son. (I'm not sure I know his name.)
Anyway.
I HATE it when people blog their dreams - so I'll shut up now.
K met me at the door with a cool glass of wine last night. Because. He. Is. Perfect.
And he had cheese and figs inside.
And he made his famous chicken with tarragon cream for dinner and figs in brown sugar over ice cream for dessert.
It was a very nice welcome.
My house was in great shape - and now is not as I have dumped a metric ton of luggage and laundry in the living room.
My day stretches before me.
This week I need to get the kids ready for school:
Middle needs some tee shirts and jeans
Youngest needs the supplies from the list they sent home.
I am meeting a blogger for lunch on tuesday - and am very excited.
Off to work...
Comments
Which blogger? Anyone we know? Will there be stories to follow?
Welcome home.
The sticky beak in me wants to know which blogger too.
(And I usually hate people recounting dreams, but you did it sort of conversationally. I'd like to know what advice you gave her about Lourdes).
(A ton in metric, is a tonne).
ew.
Madonna's girl, a brat? Well, that's surprising.
Glad you made it home safely.
Welcome home.
oh, I'd love the chicken recipe, please-sounds delightful
K...what is there to say...you're blessed, just like I am!
Welcome home. Enjoy.
Come to think of it, I'm jealous of that dinner you were met with, as well. That's lovely!
Have fun at lunch :)
Want to send your man over here to teach my man about food and wine?
Sounds like a busy week, but Tuesday will most definitely be fun.