And so they are done. The Husbeast socks are officially completed. I will post details and pics later today. I'm just so happy to have them finished and be able to work on something fresh and summery or tiny baby yummies and not a fracking post holiday obligation. I tell myself every year that I shouldn't over-commit, yet my desire to ensconce my family in woolly-goodness supercedes my ability to actually carve out enough time to provide such items. Bah humbug. This year, everyone is getting a piece of cheese and a spit ball for Christmas because no one really needs anything anyway. Then, I'm going to sit in the corner and get hammered on egg nog and pretend I am in the Bahamas and a size 2 with a rack that would make Pamela Anderson jealous. Jesus would want it that way.
On to brighter thoughts.
I received my official invitation to attend a Muny show with my awesome mom-in-law this summer. Every year (when I'm not breeding that is), I get to pick one show to see with her from her season ticket "line up". I look forward to this in a ridiculous, child-like way. We grab a quick bite to eat and then head down to her super secret parking spot in close proximity to the Muny. She has amazing seats and she lets me sing my brains out and still actually likes me afterwards. This season, I chose to attend Camelot. This is one of my favorites and I am so excited! More than anything, I enjoy getting to spend some time together... and if we can listen to show tunes at the same time, then it's even better.
This reminds me of a flashback story for which I shall dust of my brain:
When I was growing up, my parents would often take us to see broadway shows or the summer theater. We loved it. Craved it even. Libs, Paul and I would spend weeks "preparing" ourselves to attend; we'd learn every song to the show we were to see. It was research completed in only a way that a child could do. One time in particular, mom and dad took us to Circa 21 (I believe that's what it was called... if not it might be a real estate agency, but I digress) to see Annie. Annie LIVE!!!! This was our big break! Libs and I had practiced every song, every move, every dance step until our record was practically broken. (and yeah, I said record cause i'm old so shut it.) We went to the dinner performance and noshed on something that was probably meat and drank Shirley Temples filled with 3 or 4 cherries each. The curtains rose as we were eager with anticipation. I remember mom telling me to try to settle down, or maybe she told Libs; who cares??? We were seeing Annie!!! Poor Paul probably didn't even know what was going on. "It's a Hard Knock Life" starts to fill the auditorium and I can still feel my feet moving and tapping to the beat of the song. Libs and I keep looking at each other, smiling and excited. It was at this defining moment when I decided I could be a far better "Annie" than the girl that was on stage. My body started to surge with energy that could barely contain me in my seat. I wanted to run up on stage and sing her verses; I would be the Annie that everyone would applaud. Alas, my childhood dreams fell short and I never made it to broadway. To this day, I still get that surge of energy whenever I see a live musical performance. Perhaps I'll give the mom-in-law a run for her money at the Muny this summer...
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