update:

I had a delightfully full weekend. After the Thursday night lock debacle, I can honestly say that I was passed out my 11:30pm on Friday night. That was after a delicious stir fry dinner made by moi (pats self on back). Saturday morning, I was up at a very reasonable hour, made M. his favorite french toast and headed out to the doggie shelter. The apartment was deceptively warm (baumer can vouch) so I wasn’t nearly as bundled as I should have been to spend over 2 hours in the cold weather but the doggies’ love kept me warm. That’s a lie. But I did have a good time. This time I walked a big pit bull name Sage (as seen below), a skinny, skinny dalamtion-like dog who went by Shy and Vanilla Bean and a little tiny guy with no name at all (he had just come into the shelter). All three were lovely and I had a great time. When I got home, M. and I did the 65 lbs. of laundry that had been piling up. It was quite the feat. I offered to do most of the folding while M. finished up some school work. He is like mommy dearest when it comes to how he likes his t-shirts folded so it took me an extra long time to get it all done. I’m already dreading when it’s time to do laundry again in 4 months.

As though I didn’t get my fill that morning, I went out for a jog until I reached the dog park and found myself playing my usual role of dogaphile, staring creepily at the pups from behind the fence. As I stood there with a huge grin on my face and laughing out loud at the dogs’ antics, I got some strange looks from the owners who must have wondered who let the disabled girl out of the home. It was worth it.

On Saturday night we met up with some of M.’s friends at a cool little music club in Brooklyn. When M. asked what I’d like to drink, I told him that I would like us to split a bottle of white and that’s just what we did. The music was some kind of Nigerian reggae rock that was pretty awesome even though it made me feel whiter and dorkier than I thought possible. I couldn’t tell if people on the dance floor were actually dancing or having seizures. Looked like good exercise.

Yesterday, I got up with M., who had class all day, and decided to jump on a train to visit the Libbykins and the parents. My mom had baked a challach earlier in the week and I wanted to collect my share. At the fear of jinxing things, I will share with you (because you are my loyal blog friends) some special news. At Libby’s ultrasound last week, the vet found no sign of the cancerous tumor. That means that after the surgery and the chemo, the little fucker has not grown back. Who knows exactly what that means but it is certainly good news and i was so grateful to hear from my dad on Friday afternoon, as I sat at my desk, with tears in my eyes. This news would explain Libby’s rambunctious mood yesterday and her ever-puppy-like need to play. I was home by 8pm, in time to see M. sprawled on the couch with the Superbowl on the TV and the commentators speaking in Spanish, which he was imitating in place of actually watching the game.We warmed up my mom’s delicious doughy and sweet challach and I ate myself into a food coma before passing out.