I'm just a cock-eyed pessimist

We decided last night that I would get the car today, which gives me extra time to sleep (expecially since today I don't need to be in until 10). I had dreams in which ergotia and ciphergoth were visiting me in Seattle (and ergotia was teasing me for renting Johnny English last night, which in my defense I must point out I was unable to finish - or watch for even half an hour). To my horror, I was taking them to a mall ... yuck! ... yet one with a food court featuring great southern Indian food and male servers clad in torso-baring tart wear. As ergotia sipped from a tiny tea cup (the Chinese kind), I asked when I should be coming out to visit.

Yes, I've got England on the brain, still. The new Dev director told me yesterday that they were definitely needing to improve their quality assurance efforts in the London office, so there's perhaps a chance I might make it out there yet under the aegis of my employer. And I had a wee little panicky moment when I realized that I may actually bring to fruition this rather hairbrained scheme I've been coaxing along for about two months now. I scare me. Well, part of me scares the other part of me, but the very fact that I went to the trouble to visit our London office while I was over there means I had the idea cooking even before I left.

Today will be a shortish day, made even better by being so very well rested. I wish I could see the light at the end of the tunnel, but the switch doesn't seem to have been flipped yet.

We were done with the Lyon Opera Ballet at a good time tonight, in plenty of time for me to have written this up hours ago, only now it's quite late and I'm worn out. The middle piece, by a British choreographer (Russell Maliphant) made all of our Seattle choreographers just look so tired. I'm embarrassed to say I got so caught up in the movement that I was kind of hypnotized watching it, especially during the bit where they just had tiny slots of light through which the dancers slid their arms (all hail the effect of E on the British arts establishment!). The William Forsythe thing was quite cool, but the male corps seemed to lack the precision of Pacific Northwest Ballet, and the performance suffered for their sloppiness. (There was also some strange bit at the end involving kind of a crazed woman wearing a toga ... not sure how it fit in but it seemed very early 70s. Otherwise, "Billy" showed that he is the best heir to the Balanchine legacy, I think.)

The final piece, Jardi Tancat, is frequently performed by PNB. I was sad to miss seeing the work by Jiri Kylian which it was filling in for, apparently because the ship with the set was waylaid by bad seas. Alas. Of course the company was great (Pam and ookla, and for all they're getting married Saturday they seem surprisingly sane and even willing to consider doing things at such a distant time as Sunday, when a Butoh performer will be at On The Boards. I think I have to go see it ... maybe I can go out again later with some other folks.

Tomorrow I'm hoping to hang after work with butterbee, for dinner and checking out her new hairdo (she actually called me to tell me about it, and I was excited she thought I was worth telling about it!) and "stuff," you know, girl stuff, while (hopefully) her boy and shadowdaddy get in a round of some PS2 action. And for now ... nightie night!