335. Weekend

1/13/13

I really wanted to get some sleep on Friday night, since I knew I'd be out late at a gig the next day, so I was excited to get to bed by 11 - virtually unheard of in my realm of reality.  I dug into my current post-apocalyptic dystopian novel (not to be confused with any of the most recent 25 or so post-apocalyptic dystopian novels I've been reading), and it did the job a bedside book is supposed to do, which is put me to sleep within half an hour.  I closed my eyes, and had just slipped consciousness when Miles decided it was time to be up.  Now this kid is a sleeper, he usually never wakes me up at all, thanks to Tegan's lightning fast boob reflexes.  This time, he was not looking to eat, he wanted to hang out like it was an episode of Friends.  Since Tegan handles all the night time baby business, I grudgingly agreed to take Miles, who was now flopping all over the bed and calling the cat a "dog" as loud as he could, out to the living room.  My mind was still reeling from being pulled straight out of the tender embrace of sleep, so I'm not sure exactly what we played, I just know that it involved trucks, a book about crabs, a plastic trumpet, and a ball of hardened Play-Doh.  After about two hours, he was ready to sleep again.  I however, was all amped from our game of crabtrumpettruckball that I couldn't sleep for about an hour after that.  Oh well, there went my sleep. 

Our gig the next night ended up being pretty crappy too - the power at the club was all wonky and kept shorting the equipment out, this with a sizeable crowd for the Deer Lodge as well.  We did get paid, and the people had fun once we got started so it was all to the good at the end.  It came nowhere near to the amount of fun I had playing pirate back at home the next day with a dough hook for a hand kidnapping baby Miles while Isla tried to rescue him with a lightsaber and a toothbrush (apparently my oral hygiene skills were significantly hampered due to the hook).