sunday night…

…and i can’t sleep.  i don’t want to go to bed because then i’ll wake up and it’ll be tomorrow.  i teach all day tomorrow and it will most likely be very rewarding.  i’ve got some awesome students right now, and it’s summer, so it feels relaxed and laid back.  i just hope i wake up on the “right side of the bed” tomorrow.  today, i moped around all day, feeling confused and depressed.  i spent an entire morning dealing with e-mails and working on my schedule for the year.  glad i made progress, but i’ve been cross-eyed and cranky ever since.

here’s what i do know:

i am desperately seeking peace.  my heart is screaming at my head to calm down and get in a dark corner, until i can hear my pulse again.  i watched eat, pray, love tonight.  there’s a woman who would do anything to find peace.  she found it alright.  brazilian man = peace.  9 times out of 10.  anyway, i cried through the food scenes in rome, thought about myself during the ashram scenes, and soaked up the bali scenes.  i can’t believe a woman went to that much trouble to find peace.  but it’s better than constantly saying you need it, and never even getting off your duff and doing something about it.

in the morning, i will:

1. get up and make coffee.

2. then get my yoga mat out and just sit on it for a few minutes and stare at the wall.  hopefully, prayer will ensue.

3. then i’ll do some sun salutations.

4. then the hub and i will go to the gym.

if i’m not feeling better by then, i’m going to eat my weight in pancakes.

i’m a regular maya angelou, aren’t i?  i should be a spiritual leader.

i leave you with a recipe.  of course…

bourbon iced tea:  iced tea, mixed with a shot of bourbon, muddled mint and some simple syrup.

if you don’t have bourbon, replace with crushed xanax.

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One response to “sunday night…

  1. Funny shit Sarah with the following exceptions: insomnia, depression, moping and screaming head. Just know we ALL go through this shit and it’s super good to keep talking about it and to keep laughing about it – smiles.

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