As I was falling asleep last night, I had a brilliant idea about what to write today.  Then I woke up, and all of those genius almost-asleep ideas were gone.  Sigh.  You’ll have to make do with Monday morning ideas instead.

I rediscovered this weekend that I’m a nervous talker.  I had forgotten about that, since none of my nervous-talking situations have presented themselves lately.  Then there was slow-dancing at a friend’s wedding.  Ha.  I really am a twelve year-old girl sometimes.  It was a gorgeous wedding, so the nervous chatter didn’t matter much in the big picture.

The rest of the weekend was pretty fantastic, too.  Saturday included cooking and sports and a three-hour nap.  You can’t improve on that very much.  Then, just to add a cherry to the top of the sundae, I listened to A Prairie Home Companion on my porch swing.

Garrison Keillor and a porch swing are a combination that equals more than the sum of its parts.  The swing is great.  The radio program is great.  Put them together, and I feel like I’m a different person altogether.

I’m transported to a world “where all the women are strong, all the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.”  In that world, I like listening to random music I wouldn’t ever stick around for anywhere else.  I can’t wait to hear the next installment of Guy Noir, I like the ads (“Fritz Electronics, where everything you need is on the Fritz!”), and the fact that they claimed something that’s statistically impossible in the tagline doesn’t bother me (the kids can’t all be above average).

It’s the program in combination with the swing that really does me in though.  I feel like life is settled on the swing, with NPR floating through the air.  No questions about what’s going to happen in the future actually matter, and I’m in a nondescript decade between 1920 and the present.  You can’t possibly be worried about life if you can’t figure out what decade you’re in.

So that was me on Saturday night–well-rested, well-fed, and pleasantly confused about the decade.  Sunday included pumpkin-carving, good cookies that I didn’t have to bake, and homemade cheese puffs.  It wasn’t too shabby, either.

Reason #238 that it’s good to be a girl: I can bake cheese puffs while prepping cupcakes and planning to carve Charlie Brown’s face on a pumpkin without being made fun of.