Bottles and Cans, Just Clap Your Hands

Another morning run. I swear, sometimes it's all that gets me up. Thursdays are generally my favorite days of the week, since I don't have my cake yet (cake = weekend), nor do I get to eat it (since it's Thursday, and it's impossible to eat days), but I can look forward to both without partaking in either. Does that make sense?

I have very evolved skills in self-denial.

Lunch plans with a friend fell through due to busy-ness, so here I am, lunchless and starving and exceedingly pathetic in my merino sweater and the GAP capris I love so much but probably won't get to wear again until late March. Sigh. I need the summertime right about now. I'm a summer girl. I want to see the green and the blue, together in my field of vision, with high saturation and the smell of honeysuckle and mown grass in the air.

Oh! Cha cha (cha) last night, for almost 2 hours! It's very similar to rumba, except More Better in a variety of ways: It's faster, it involves thingies called chasses (which look a lot cooler than they actually are), and it goes CHA CHA CHA! So we basically did our rumba routine, only faster and with chasses (which is when you take a step forward or backward or to the side, and then "chase" that foot quickly with the other foot, crossing it in front of or behind the first foot). If I were an extremely unfortunate ant walking under somebody dancing cha cha, I wouldn't know which way to run.

I'm full of spectacular ideas today, obviously.

So, dinner out tonight, then salsaaaaaaaa.