The Moves on Video

Here is the husband during our grocery shop last night - putting on a clinic in the sexy moves department.

Please ignore my very shrill laughter - oh, and that shriek at the beginning is me saying "Say, what?", I was flashing gang signs at him when I said that.

Oh, and don't ask about the fake coughing and gagging - it's just something we do.

Ali and the Husband do Safeway

It's been since, oh I don't know, July 11th? Yep, that was the last time we got groceries. That's just sad. It lets you know how often we are actually home for a "real" meal these days.
In spite of my post to my stomach yesterday, I do like food, and I love getting groceries. I especially like to go with the husband. We usually go at night so there is less chance of him getting irritated and whipping the cart around corners at lethal speeds. There are usually about 10 other people in the store when we go, leaving plenty of space and empty aisles for the show we usually put on.
It's not unusual to find me gagging over the meat, the husband reading titles in a German accent, him chasing me with pork hocks (which I hate!), and there is always dancing and singing. Always.
If there is no music on then we sing our own, and do pirouettes and ass shakes all over the place. Tonight was no exception as we were singing only two songs - Baby I Got Your Money by Old Dirty Bastard, and Sunshine, Lollipops and Rainbows by Leslie Gore. Not what most would consider a great pairing but for us, it works.




The husband was ready to go...though he looks kind of scary...um...








I'll bet you can't see me in this picture...











We are always intrigued by the labeling on each package.








My husband...the "cracker".









We were very hungry.










At last! Food!







So, $213 later, we have a modest supply of groceries. Now we just have to stop at the store where we buy meat and we should be all set...for the next two months or so.

Dear Stomach,

Hello old body part, how have you been? Oh wait, let me answer that for you - you have been insatiable, unsatisfiable, noisy and quite frankly, a major nuisance to me for the past 2 years.

I can do nothing to keep you happy it seems. When I feed you, you protest, groaning and rumbling at me as though I've tried to poison you. When I don't feed you, you seem the happiest, however if you and I are to go on living, you must let me nourish you once in a while.

I realize that the medications I have been taking the past couple years don't make you feel so hot. Guess what? They don't make me feel so wonderful either. I realize that your method of vocalizing how unhappy you are is to make me sick, and unable to eat a complete meal. I've got news for you - one piece of pizza does NOT constitute a complete meal, so it is unacceptable for you to begin your protests when I'm only halfway through.

Case and point: Last night you were groaning at me as though you would shrivel up and die if I didn't feed you. In fact, you were calling out for steak, which I haven't had in ages - since it seems to affect you so. The husband and I took you to the Keg where I treated you to a delicious meal. Right on schedule, halfway through my meal you started the old "let's make her feel nauseous and have some fun" routine. It worked, good job.
I took a break in the middle of eating - as you usually make me do - but then I ate the rest of my meal. Ha! I decided for 35 bucks a plate I had better eat everything. But oh, you really made me pay for that when we got home didn't you? Within minutes of walking in the door you began churning and it wasn't long till I was bringing up my delicious steak. What a waste of money.

Frankly stomach, I just don't see how we are going to get over this. You must let me eat! And you must let me eat more than once a day! And it must be more than a bowl of cereal or 3 bites of a burger!

One last thing...if you must be such a pain about not letting me eat, can you at least talk to the rest of my body and let it know that with the amount of food I eat I should be a skinny, lithe being?
Seriously - have a meeting or something.

Thank you for your understanding...no wait...I ate a cookie a few minutes ago and you are already pitching a fit...damn.

Sincerely (pissed off), Ali

A Date...Just What the Doctor Ordered

The husband and I just got home from a date with some of our friends, Lesley and Jamie - you may recall them from such escapades as the "Great Camping Debacle of 2006". Remember? There were "bears" and stuff outside our tent? Lesley and I were shrieking and thinking we were going to die while Jamie and the husband slept like babies?

Anyways, I still wasn't feeling so hot today, and then had a shitty visit to my infertility doctor - so I suggested me go out tonight so we weren't sitting around the house thinking about it.
We decided to go see Superbad at the theatre and called Lesley and Jamie as it's been forever since we've seen them. They are a great couple and it's a constant stream of laughs when we hang out.

Before we went to the movie we went to Kelsey's for drinks and dinner and the husband decided to try his hand at photography. I must say - the picture isn't too bad...it's just that he's all G.Q. and I'm all 5-year-old-girl.

The movie was awesome - I laughed for 2 hours straight. I'm sure the people around me loved when I would get into a coughing fit from laughing too hard.

It was a great date and just what I needed to forget the days events. And now my lovelies, I will bid you adieu, and try to get some rest before another long day. Mwah!

Sexy, no?

So...I pretty much feel like a walking, talking piece of ass.
And not "piece of ass" like a desirable being who people would like to have sexy time with.
Nope. I mean piece of ass like I feel like I've been hit by a truck, beaten with an ugly stick, and put through the ringer.

As I said, I've been nursing this chest cold/sinus infection thing for the past 4 or 5 days - and it's to the point now where every time I inhale to start talking, I'm interrupted by loud, disgusting sounding coughs. And when I lay down it's even worse - yuck!
Plus today I woke up with a pounding headache, and waves of nausea, and I spent the day at the baseball diamond watching the husband's team in the playoffs. And, it just so happens that today was the windiest day in the history of baseball - so now my teeth are gritty, my hair is laced with sand, and my feet are dirtier than a bush baby's feet. Even my jeans have a brownish hue because of all the dust flying around.

So, my plan for the evening is as follows: Go for a long, delicious shower, pull on some comfy "jammies", grab a bottle of water, some 7-up mixed with orange juice, a blanket and my pillow, park my disgusting self on the couch, watch Harry Potter (it's on tv - I'm too lazy to actually put in a DVD) and crawl into bed at a decent hour.

The husband is thrilled to be spending the evening with me, I'm sure.

Gotta Love Family...Even When There Are 40 of Them Around...All the Time

So - my holidays. Well, there wasn't a whole hell of a lot of excitement. Just lots and lots of family, huge dinners at someones house every single night, lots of hanging out and visiting and little to no sleep.
My mom's brother Mark was home with his 3 sons and his new wife Kelli and step-daughter Chandler. They were married last year and this was my first time meeting Kelli and Chandler. Her other two kids Hayden and Bronwynn couldn't make it down, so the husband and I will have to make a trip down there sometime in the next year or so.
The rest of my mom's brother and sisters managed to make it down too so there were people everywhere you looked.

Some of the fam: My auntie Sandy, my mom, auntie Janet, uncle Mark and my Daddy-o.

One of the many, many poker games that transpired over the week. The contenders were my uncle Craig, my brother Matthew, cousin Cole, cousin Brett and cousin Luke.

Lounging after another barbeque - uncle Mark, uncle Laurie, uncle Craig, and my grandpa - it was his hands in that blog picture a month or so ago.

My cousin Joel, the husband, and cousin Garrett. Can you see how skinny Garrett is? He's 14 and 6'2 tall and weighs about 87 pounds.

My most favourite cousin, Krista. We are often told we look alike and have the same stupid sense of humour - love her.

Uncle Paul after breaking both handles off the barbeque - simultaneously.

My cousin Joseph's son, Carter. He was eating this delicious cake my aunt had made. That night he asked me why I liked him, I told him "because you're so cute" and he said "well that doesn't mean you have to like me" - ah, touche you 4 year old smart-ass.

The newest additions to our family - Chandler and Kelli.

My cousin Aaron, Carter, and Krista's dad, Bruce.

My baby bro Matthew after getting smoked in the eye with a frisbee at Grandma's house - she may be 4"11 but she's got a mean arm.

The newest combo family - Chandler, Aaron, Luke and Joel.

The drive back to the city was kind of eerie again - being on the road by 5 a.m. can be somewhat of a safari. There was lots of fog and these cows looked super creepy.

But of course, there is nothing like being on the open road with no one around for miles when the sun comes up. Breathtaking.

I've been back in the city for 3 days now and I'm still wiped out - can't seem to catch up on sleep. Though I'm sure it doesn't help that I've got a wicked chest cold and am coughing with every second word. The husband is doing a good job of pumping me full of drugs though.

Oh well, family is awesome and I'm glad I got to see them all.

Back in the Saddle - But Riding Backwards

Ah - the drive back into the city - windows down, music blaring (never mind that plaid shirt - it's cute) - I was so pumped when I drove in yesterday morning...

Hello babes.
I'm back in the city as of yesterday morning. I have a long post that I should make, laced with pictures from my holidays (which are really just family shots which I'm sure you couldn't care less about) but, the truth is, I'm exhausted.
My holidays were actually 6.5 days of driving, eating, non-sleeping, borderline catatonic nonsense that I need a holiday to recover from.
I'm wiped and just trying to get myself back on schedule as I've been somewhat lost and grumpy the last few days.
The upside to that is that when I'm not being grumpy I'm very, very happy - and have extended laughing fits where I usually end up with tears running down my face because I think whatever I'm laughing at is SO funny. In reality? Probably not so funny.
The husband just called - and told me he would be home in a bit and that he would bring home milk so I can have some cereal for supper. He also promised that we could go to bed early. Yesssssssss.

...yeah - this is now - much more realistic...

Oh...Whoops!

Hey all!
I think I forgot to tell everyone that I was going on vacation...he,he...whoops.
My bad (said the little white girl very un-coolly).
Anyways, yep, I'm on vacation - currently in the land of dial up and will be here until either late Tuesday night or early Wednesday morning.
My mom has a bunch of family in and Monica actually ended up coming down to get some stuff taken care of for her visa, so there are people everywhere you look and always something going on.
Currently there are 12 of us staying at my mom and dads - it's a real gong show around here. And...four of the residents are teenage boys...eww...you can't go in any room without getting a whiff of something dead, if you get my drift.
So I may post again before I come back but there will be no pictures since I forgot my camera cord at home - plus the fact that it takes about 45 minutes to upload a picture on this connection. Plus, I keep getting yelled at for being on here because no one can use the phone. Gotta love family!

Hope you are all well, miss you, and I'll catch you on the flip side...like, uh...next Wednesday.

The Weekend From Hell...

This is a long, long convoluted story - so I'll do my best to narrow it down to what you really need to know to understand how hellish the weekend was...but, well, as you know...I'm long winded...so this will probably be long...oh yeah, it will be for sure...

First off, you must know that last week was long and exhausting and I was looking forward to a weekend of overtime, pyjamas, movies, guitar and music. Friday afternoon as Krista and I were in the middle of a hysterical breakdown (hysterical laughter and extreme exasperation) my mom called and told me that her and my brother Matthew were bored and they wanted to come into the city. She said they might even want to go to Grand Forks, North Dakota for the weekend since it's only a few hours from Winnipeg.
Usually I would be happy about all of that - them coming in to visit and especially about going shopping in the states - Helloooo Target!
But, as I said, I was planning on doing not much of anything for the entire weekend...sigh, oh well, maybe it would be fun, right?
Saturday morning I get up at 6:30 and am in the office by 8am. Krista and I had scads of work to do and decided to try to get a head start on this week. We were there till about 12:30, then I drove home to throw some things in an overnight bag. My mom and brother were there at about 1 to pick me up and we were off.
My mom was in a panic about driving in Grand Forks so we decided I would drive (oh yeah, 75 mph on I-29!), and her job was to decide on a hotel before we got there so we didn't have to drive around like crazy people looking for one later.
You should also know that my mom and brother were both overtired and were pretty hyper - it was weird, my mom kept screaming "Whooooo!" every 20 minutes or so, trying to pump me up! It made me laugh because it was something I would do.
I think the easiest way to explain this to you is in a timeline (it may be shorter this way too):
5pm - we arrive in Grand Forks
5:15 - we're parked at Old Navy
5:45 - we're on our way into Super Target
7:00 - we decide we should get a hotel room and begin driving
7:15 - we have passed 10 hotels and my mom refuses to tell me which one to try
7:30 - I turn the car around and head back the way we came, telling my mom to just decide already
7:45 - my mom and I are yelling at each other because neither one of us wants to pick a hotel

*In case you are wondering why I wouldn't just pick a hotel...it always ends up that something is wrong with the one I pick and then it's my fault, so I refuse to pick any more...until this weekend, which was a bad idea*

7:55 - I get pissed off, yank the car into the first hotel I see (which is a Days Inn) and go in to see if there are rooms available - there aren't
8:15 - 3 hotels later, still no room
8:20 - I yell "where is the damn Ramada? let's just freaking go there already!" (my mom had been talking about the stupid Ramada for hours - but it was off another exit and she didn't want to backtrack)
8:35 - we turn off at exit 141 (where the Ramada is supposed to be) - I ask my mom "left or right?" she says "definitely left"
8:37 - I turn left
8:43 - it is becoming clear that there is no Ramada on this side of the interstate
8:50 - I pull a u-turn and yell "we're stopping at the next hotel, I don't care what it is!"
8:56 - we stop at the Settle Inn - it looks decent from the outside so I go in to book a room - all they have left is smoking - I say "I don't care, we'll take it"
9:05 - we walk into the room
9:06 - my brother and I are gagging on the cigarette smoke
9:07 - we realize the room has double beds, my mom realizes the t.v. remote doesn't work
9:08 - I tell my brother there is no way he is sleeping with me
9:10 - he's holding a phone book above his head ready to slam it down on me because there is a fly on my back
9:12 - my mom is yelling at us because I jumped up, grabbed the book and threw it at him, now he's swearing
9:15 - I smash the fly against the window and squish guts on the phone book
9:20 - we decide to go find supper, my brother decides to pee before we go
9:23 - he comes out of the bathroom laughing and tells us the bathroom door won't close - I tell him he's an idiot, who can't close a bathroom door?
9:26 - we realize that the lock on the back door of the hotel has been punched out, so anyone can walk in whenever they want
9:27 - we are back in the car
9:40 - I am freaking out because my mom has me totally lost - my brother is laughing in the backseat and my mom is giggling in the front
9:42 - I decide to turn around because I think I know where I should be going
9:43 - I realize I am in the wrong lane and cars are coming at me - I scream, hit the has, and crank the car into a gas station parking lot - my mom and brother are screaming like little girls
9:44 - I brake in the parking lot, start to laugh and end up in a sobbing fit because I am so frustrated - my mom does too, and my brother just keeps laughing in the backseat
9:50 - I calm down, turn the car around and very calmly find my way to where I want to go
10:00 - we sit down in a restaurant for dinner
10:45 - we are on our way back to the hotel
11:00 - we get in the room and I decide to go pee - I go into the bathroom, begin to pull the door closed behind me and WHAM! the door stops
11:01 - I hear my brother laughing because he knows what just happened
11:02 - I realize that the door is shifted, so much so that it leaves a 6 inch gap between the door and the door frame
11:03 - I reef on the door and it slams closed, but the piece of molding along the inside of the door (full of nails by the way) comes flying at me and ends up hitting the tub
11:04 - my mom is outside the door asking me if I'm alright - I'm laughing and swearing, tell her I'm fine and I'll be right out
11:07 - I'm pushing on the bathroom door...it won't budge
11:08 - my mom is pulling and I'm pushing on the door
11:09 - I come crashing through the bathroom door
11:10 - my brother is laughing so hard that he's on the bed crying (see below)
11:20 - we are still laughing about the door
11:22 - we realize the alarm clock keeps turning on and off
11:30 - I decide I'm exhausted and we all go to bed - my mom and brother in one bed, me in the other
11:37 - my mom is snoring so loud that you would swear she's faking - she's not
11:55 - I realize I'm not sleeping tonight and start to laugh
11:56 - my brother starts laughing too
8:00am - I finally get up after sleeping approximately 45 minutes, and go the bathroom for a shower...the door stays open 6 inches because I'm not risking getting stuck again
9:00 - my mom and brother finally get up
9:10 - my mom calls me over to the sink and tells me to lean on the counter
9:11 - I do and it almost rips off the wall - she's standing there laughing
9:12 - I declare that this is the shittiest hotel EVER and that I can't wait to get out of here
9:19 - we walk into the Perkins next door for breakfast
9:27 - our waitress F's up my order, for once in my life I keep my mouth shut because I'm delirious from lack of sleep
9:35 - my mom is pouting because she realizes that she kept me awake all night (wow, she's good at pouting - I must have learned it from her)
10:00 - we leave Perkins in search of an open shopping place, Walmart must be open, right?
10:21 - nope - Walmart isn't open - nothing is
10:25 - we are all laughing - it's just ridiculous how nothing is going our way
10:34 - I decide that we should drive over to the mall - I'd rather be there than Walmart when it opens
10:40 - we pull into the parking lot and I find a spot right near the door
10:41 - we spend the next 20 minutes laughing at other losers like us that thought stores would be open at this time on a Sunday
11:00 - my mom and bro decide to go into the mall (the doors are open, but stores are closed) to look around - I decide to stay in the car and try to sleep
11:?? - my brother sneaks back to the car and takes a picture of me sleeping through the open window (see below)

The rest of the day is peppered with rude people, more delirious laughing fits, a lineup at the border, a-hole senior citizens, pigeon-toed morons and way more construction than a highway should have. Oh, and halfway home the airbag light came on - my mom read the instruction manual and it said that can mean one of two things: 1. If we get into an accident the airbags may fail to deploy, or 2. the airbags may deploy at any moment while driving. Spectacular. I shoved my seat back as far as I could while still reaching the pedals and hauled ass home, even though my mom was begging me to slow down.
Hello? We are on a stretch of farm highway in the middle of nowhere - it's not like we're going to run into anything, and I'd rather lessen my chances of having my nose broken because my brother breathed too hard in the backseat and deployed the air bag.
So, we pull into Winnipeg and my mom says "let's go for supper somewhere". At this point I'd rather be dead, but I say fine because that means I don't have to feed them at my house.
Supper is almost done and my mom says "um, can we drive through the Tim Horton's drive thru on the way home for coffee?" I say fine - but it's the drive thru ONLY and that there will be no more stops.
We leave the restaurant and drive to Horton's - then she says "oh, maybe we should buy donuts for the morning, what kind do they have?" I screech into a parking spot and say "you have 5 minutes, go in, get the donuts and let's go home." When they come back out my brother is holding the box of donuts and starts pretending he is an ape coming across the parking lot - I honk the horn just as he's walking by the car and he screams. I laugh. And laugh and laugh and laugh. Then I start to cry.
Please understand that I am beyond exhausted by now and my emotions are running wild. My mom gets into the car yelling at me, sees that I've started to cry, starts laughing, and ends up crying herself. My brother can't contain himself and starts laughing at both of us. I threaten his life if he doesn't quit being an ass.
Finally we are on the home stretch...just minutes from my apartment and my own bed.
When we walk in the door I see the bag of garbage still sitting at the door...the clothes are still in the dryer, and the dishes are still in the sink. Oy.
I suddenly get a burst of energy and spend the next 2 hours doing laundry, changing sheets, putting dishes away and tidying up before crashing very, very hard into bed at 11pm.

This morning I was up at 5:30 to get ready for work...this is the sunrise that greeted me on my way out of my parking spot. So I opened up at work this morning and I shut the office down tonight - I am wiped out. The husband will be home from baseball shortly and I plan on being in bed by 10pm.

Hope you all had more pleasurable and relaxing weekends than me!

I'm Back...From Outer Space...

I have not fallen off the face of the earth and I am not in some alternate, parallel universe where space and time fail to exist...hmm, I guess if space failed to exist, then I would fail to exist...since there would be no space for me...

Um yeah, anyways - life has just been ridiculously busy this past week or so, but I plan on posting tonight - it was a horrendous, though memorable, weekend. There was laughter, there was tears, there was hysterics and yelling...a weekend with my mom and brother - yikes!

Work is busy - I've been here since 6:45 this morning - the boss is away and Zig apparently has something better to do than be here...I guess a new baby is kind of a big deal...(I'm teasing - Rachel is a very, very big deal - don't you come in here at all!!!)

You would think I would be slacking off since my boss is away, no such luck! You know how it goes when work is going fairly smoothly, life is good, work is manageable and your world is alright? Mine was like that until about Tuesday of last week. Then WHAM! Three magazines came in over a 24 hour period, we're down a designer, and the other editor is in the midst of some sort of breakdown!

It's crazy around here - good thing I love crazy.

Okay - this was supposed to be a quick one liner to let you know I'm alive and will be posting later...so, uh...I'm alive and will be posting later...

Oh Boy...

...actually more like no boy.

The husband has been on holidays since August 1st. Since then he has been in Ontario staying with his parents and doing boyish type things like drinking beer, golfing, fishing, watching football, etc.

I went home this past weekend too. On Friday night he got to my parents house as I was going to bed. In the morning we both went our separate ways. That night we crawled into bed together. In the morning we went our separate ways. That afternoon he left for a round of golf with his dad and then kept going into the city - he wanted to be here for baseball on Monday night. I got home Monday while he was at the baseball diamond. He got home just when I was thinking about going to bed. He was asleep before I even slipped between the sheets. Tuesday morning he dropped me off at work on his way back to Ontario. He's supposed to be home sometime tomorrow. Then he will be working 12 hour days Friday, Saturday and Sunday while I am off.

Our lives have been this way since we first moved in together 7 and a half years ago. When we lived in Calgary he would go away for 4 weeks at a time (up into the boonies in Yellowknife and British Columbia) and then come home for 5 days - I would be working those 5 days. It was almost like I was a single person.

And for the past 3 years with him working at the hospital we sometimes go a week or two just passing each other by - one of us on the way to work when the other is coming home, one of us waking up when the other is getting ready for bed.

Sometimes I don't mind having so much time to myself, it allows me to do the things that I love that maybe he doesn't feel as passionate about.

The last couple days I have been feeling kind of dreary. I wondered what it was about since I loathe feeling this way. Tonight as I was sitting here I realized what was wrong.

I miss the husband. Something awful.

I'm excited that he will be home tomorrow. Sure, we will probably argue within the first half hour, but after we do I will pout and he will come over and ask if we are done fighting and I will say "for now" and he will sit beside me on the couch and I will snuggle up to him, kiss him and tell him I love him.

Country Girl verses City Girl

I was raised in a very, very small town. Minuscule to be exact.
The "country" was about two minutes from my house and I was raised as any good country girl should be - to make my own fun, know the meaning of hard work, be able to kick some ass if I had to, and generally fall into the category of "what you see is what you get".

When I was 18 I moved out of my parent's house and 20 hours away to a city. Two seconds after my parents left me at the college gate I became a city girl, or at least more of a city girl. Not that I hadn't had tastes of the city before then - I wasn't a bumpkin by anyone's standards - but it wasn't long before I dressed a little better, took more time to do my hair, wore more makeup, cared about what people thought and became just a little more "mysterious".

As I've moved from city to city in the last nine years, it is inevitable that during some random conversation it will come up that I am from a small town, or "the country" as any city slicker would call it. Depending on the crowd, some people will wrinkle their nose at this like "Ew, what is a country girl doing in our posh city?" or "Awesome, do you know how to hunt/fish/ride dirt bikes/party in a field?" etc.

Well, the answer to nearly all of those questions is yes.

I do know how to fish, I have owned and ridden dirt bikes since I was 12 years old, I don't hunt - but I do know how to shoot a gun, I've partied in fields, gravel pits, the back 40, you name it, I know every cop by their first name because I babysat their kids, I can name and use almost any tool in your workshop, I can water ski (though poorly), I swim in rivers and lakes, I have been face to face with a bear, I am awesome at climbing trees and hay bales, I ride horses, I pump gas, I can check your oil, I know how to use the 4x4 on a truck because I've needed it many times, etc. I'm actually proud of all those things - plus the hundreds of others that I can't think of right now.

Plus, most people have this preconceived notion that country girls are hot. Case and point, any guy friend who has looked through the pictures of me and my girlfriends from back home has always had the reaction of "Damn, they know how to grow 'em in the country."
Well, come on, what smart girl is going to argue with that?

But, not to lessen the awesomeness of a city girl - I am now more cultured, I know more music than the local country station, I dress much better than I used to, I eat at better places, I can get anything I need in about 15 minutes - no driving an hour to the closest Walmart or Canadian Tire, I sometimes enjoy being a "damsel in distress" though I know damn well that I can take care of whatever I need, and I wouldn't have the fantastic job I do now living in the country. Oh, and there are some very fine looking ladies in the city too!

At work the other day there was a discussion about whether I qualify as a country girl or city girl. Zig summed it up with one question - "if there was a shotgun and a rifle leaning against the wall and your dad said to bring him the shotgun, would you know which one he meant?"

Um, yes.

"Then you're a country girl," he said.

He's right. But I wouldn't have it any other way.

Damn Me and My Suckiness!

I am thoroughly annoyed and irritated with myself. Thoroughly.
If I was in a room alone with me I'd kick my own ass.
Long story short...I had a guitar lesson tonight...and I totally freaked. Absolutely could not make myself play.
Last week Zig gave me one of his own songs to practice. I've been practicing every single day, and it's been great. I actually get excited to play all the time. But as today got closer I could feel myself getting more and more nervous.
By the time I sat down for my lesson I was ready to puke.
Zig tried everything he could to convince me to play - he offered to play with me, turned his back so that he wasn't watching me, tried to trick me into playing something else that eventually led into the song. But it was a no go.
Why I have developed this new fear of playing in front of him I don't know. But for some reason I just panic every time he tells me to play and then waits patiently for me to begin.
The more excited I am to play on my own during the week, the more I panic during a lesson.
The husband asked me if Zig is putting lots of pressure on me, but the truth is that he's a great teacher. Never mad, never impatient, never pushy. The problem is not with him, it's very obviously me.
I don't know what I'm going to do - but I left my lesson tonight incredibly mad at myself for not just playing the song. As soon as I got home I picked up Ramona and played for over an hour...stupid, would it have been so hard to do it in front of him?
I seem to be lacking in the courage department suddenly, anyone got any to spare?