the Blahs

Tired. No other word for it. Even ice cream doesn’t make me happy. I feel myself falling into a funk and I just can’t get out of it today. Can’t get my head into the novel, either. I told my husband I just have the blahs and he says, “Yeah and you’re awfully cranky.”

Yeah, well. I’m allowed.

On another note, Phantom of the Opera is coming to the Music Hall in Dallas in March/April. Wonder who I can talk into going with me? DH hates musicals, so I might see if my mom would be interested in going. Wicked will be in Dallas in October, but I don’t know if we’ll have the funds. I want to redo the cushions on my dining room chairs and buy new wallpaper border for the kitchen. (I have grapes, a product of the previous owners, and I’m sick to death of them.) It seems much more worthy do that than go to the musical, even though I would love the musical.

Carl Edwards
He won the Busch Race yesterday and donated his entire winnings to the relief effort. That would be approximately $2 million. I’m liking this guy more and more. Plus he does this really cool backflip when he wins. I think he’s an up and coming driver and I’ll be following his career closely. I’ll be sporting a #99 on the back of my car come this fall (right along with my Dallas Stars sticker).

I guess I’ll go copy a CD for my friend because I can’t seem to write and I can’t seem to do anything else.

Blahs.

By Michelle

I wish you all could be inside my head. The conversation is sparkling.