Beads on a String

It seems that I'm most inclined to post on the weekends; my weekdays pass like beads on a string, mostly alike in terms of my moods and activities (and the weather, which has been awful), ever since Felix started these two new contracts.  I work and work and work, work out, go out for dinner or cook, read and then sleep.  Caspian has been ultra-social recently, going out at least a few evenings a week and returning late at night.

Now that I think of it, my days aren't SO alike...  M (now named Manasvi) and I (who will be referred to thus as Bubbles) and I (ha) have been out on certain early mornings, sprinting and jogging and otherwise goofing off in the rain.  Sometimes Manasvi and I take some time out of our busy schedules to have intellectual conversations at our favorite coffee joint.  Caspian and I have continued our Argentine tango adventures; Caspian exclaimed this morning that he'd like to continue into the next 10-week session and learn intermediate figures!  Insanity.

Felix and I managed last night to remember our entire tango routine, which is long.  Not as long as our rumba routine, which lasts for almost 120 seconds (and we likely won't ever get to complete it in competition), but it still contains a whole pile of challenging figures.  We spent an hour on it last night, and I was as soaking wet with sweat as I'd be after running for an hour.  Our other hour of practice was spent on all latin dances (20 mins) and then on all other standard dances (foxy, quickstep, waltz).  I am sore this morning, especially in my lower back, feet, quads and glutes.  We get to repeat it all tomorrow; lesson from 10 - 11a, practice from 12:30 - 2:30p.

One time we got into frame almost perfectly, really dramatically, stood for a second, and then we both frenetically shuffled around in place going clompclompclompclomp with all four of our combined feet in the same square foot and then practice went downhill from there (in terms of our seriousness and ability to concentrate).  He was up really early yesterday morning (4:30a!!!!!) for work, and while driving from Deux Montagnes to Montréal for practice, he fell asleep and sideswiped a guardrail, causing probably $4000 worth of damage to the driver's side of his car.  But, true to his nickname, he brushed his shoulders off, called Raomi briefly (who raged for awhile before asking him if he was okay), and clowned around as usual.

Did you know that foxtrot in French is called "slow fox"?  And that standard is called modern?

Oh, and I also discovered that I hate overcooked edamame as much as I hate undercooked.  I now simmer for exactly 3.5 minutes.