More SYTYCD

I know, I haven't posted anything "real" in a long time, but for those who don't know I moved a couple weeks ago, and that consumed everything for a very long time and I promise there is a post coming about it. I've also been battling a wicked flare up of carpal tunnel, which has *mostly* kept me off the computer at home. But really, if you're not watching So You Think You Can Dance then you are totally missing out of the best part of the summer television season. Here are my 2 favorite dances so far this season...both from last week.

Wade Robson is a genius!!


Mia Michaels is a raving lunatic and I probably couldn't stand to be in the same room with her, but this is just fabulous. The backstory...he is the addiction and she is trying to break free, but can't quite get away.

Yes, Exactly!

SYTYCD


Remember Bleeding Love:


or

The Garden:


or...old school with Sweet Dreams


And so many others...the bench dance, the one with the door. The one to Daisy in December...that is now a regular song on my iPod, and already tonight, some amazing performances! So You Think You Can Dance (dance) (dance)

Slap Chop Rap

5 Years

Today is the official anniversary of PseudoIrish Lass, 5 years.

I love reading through my archives and remembering what was going on in my life during those posts.

And while I've definitely slowed waay down on posting, I still enjoy the outlet. And I'm glad that several members of my family have embraced the blog as a way to keep everyone updated on their lives.

Here's to 5 more!

Quote of the Day

The idea in this country is that no one gets to be the boss of what everyone else thinks. I like it that way.

--Rick Steves

Flickr Photos

Photos from the recent trip to Southern California (Along with photos from December...yikes, I forgot those were on the camera!) are up on flickr...I've included my favorites here.

Inventory

Everyday begins alike. The alarm intrudes into my consciousness, squawking that it's time for inventory. I take a moment to imagine others waking up with the last remnants of a dream in their minds or a list of mundane items that must be crossed off before bedtime and I envy their normal thoughts. I wonder if they realize how lucky they are.

Sigh, inventory. The pain that wracked my body during the heart of darkness has subsided. Not completely gone, but it no longer requires active debate of when I should call 911. Curled into a ball and begging for death, I win the argument to not call for help by suggesting the act of argument voids the need for help. If I truly needed help, there would be no room for debate. I might be delusional, but at least I'm delusional in my own bed.

My chest hurts. Deep, stabbing pain, like a screwdriver has been driven between my ribs. Oh God, it hurts, but not enough to call in sick. This morning it has settled beneath the right side of my rib cage. I take a deep breath. No change. Good, if it moves upward toward my heart...I will struggle.

Back, between my shoulder blades. Aches dully.

Occipital nerve, where it disappears into my skull. Tingles, like my blood is carbonated.

Fingernails, all ten. Throb.

Left ankle. Smarts.

Right calf. Cramped.

Everything else. Well, it won't kill me, at least not today.

Morning inventory completed, I sit up, grab my blue speckled cane and hobble unsteadily down the hall. It will be a good day.