Once, long ago, I had a dream.

It was a slow glowing dream.  All my own.  Never shared it with anyone.  I nurtured and lived for it, but fiercely denied it to anyone who had the guts to ask.

It was:

To be able to wear the off the shoulder sweatshirt and look like THIS:

Somehow, it never really happened.  Anytime I tried to look like the above, I kinda ended up looking like this instead:

 

 

The other day I was driving somewhere, and I actually had no children in the car with me at the time.  I am trying to remember where I was going, but I don’t think that was important.  What WAS important was that THERE WERE NO LITTLE CHILDREN IN THE CAR.  AT ALL. ANYWHERE.  I WAS ALLLLLLL ALONE.

And what do we do when are alone, the few, the proud, the Momsies?

Well, naturally, we contemplate, for just a second or two, that we could just. Keep. Driving.

Once  we acknowledge that is a bit crazysauce, we do the next best thing:  we sing.  Like, we CELINE sing.  We Whitney it.

So, Irene Cara’s “What a Feeling” came on the radio, and of course, I started out with a few slow jazz hand movements to slow everybody down a bit (the imaginary audience was all heated up from the previous Footloose number) and then, I grabbed the mike (steering wheel) and proceeded to belt it OUT.  I OWNED it.  Wrapped that number up and sold it to the highest bidder, I tell you.

I almost cried.  I mean, honestly, “What a feeling!  Being’s believing! I can have it all, now I’m dancing for my life!!!”?  That is good stuff. Solid Gold.

I did injure myself when I tried to do a bit of a head snap with the chorus (“I am music now!” Sing it with me ladies!), but some Icy Hot healed that right up.  So back to dancing right through my life!

I am thinking I might even start to rock this ensemble:

 

However, without the snake.  And it’s possible I might wanna wear some baggy pants after, say, 30 seconds of the shiny slippery wedgie thingies.  But hey, I kinda get why everyone is on their tippy toes.  Those wedgie things make one want to elevate oneself as much as possible!  Which, we all know, elongates the leg!  Because leg warmers certainly don’t.

Yea, I don’t really know why the snake’s in there either.  Go with it.

 

Anyhow.

Lately it has been pretty clear that I might benefit from a little time away.  (Lawyer inserts here that a huge, collective, “You DON’T SAY?” from the audience might be good.) Work has piled itself upon my head with a sturdy clunk, and so have my sweet toddlers.  Even the cats are needy and mewling all over me all the time, and I generally like their little furry fishy faces, but lately?

MOMSIE NEEDS SOME ALONE TIME.

And this is where my buddy #Netflix comes in.  I am a #Streamteam blogger, and recently I have found myself hoarding our cue for my special Momsie movies.

Movies like:

And (of course):

Nobody puts Momsie in a corner!

 

At any rate, most of these lovelies are my guilty pleasure – I watch them with my cinnamon toast popcorn and cherish the peace and quiet.  But Flashdance?  For some reason, I thought Flashdance might make a good Date Night Movie.

 

And so here’s how that conversation went:

Me:  Wanna watch a movie tonight?

Hubs: Sure!  I uploaded 8 new Star Trek episodes!

Me: No, I was thinking…

Hubs: What?  A Blue Bloods marathon?

Me: Well…

Hubs:  We could watch the highlights from the college world series together!  Romannic!

Me: Um…

Hubs:  No?  Ok.   I have a documentary on aircraft carriers…

Me:  Oh for Pete’s sake.  Never mind.

 

We watched the aircraft carriers one.  It was pretty awesome, actually.

And I hunkered down with  Flashdance later, just me, my codependent cats, and the popcorn.  The next day I broke into the “Maniac” dance at intermittent points  whenever my children started to get on my nerves.

 

Because, as we all know:

 

 

Cinnamon toast popcorn:

Directions

1. Pop the popcorn according to the package directions.
2. In a large bowl, toss the popcorn and melted butter or coconut oil.
3. In a small bowl, combine the sugar and cinnamon. Sprinkle over the popcorn and toss.
4. Add salt to taste.
5. Don’t share.  Eat it all alone while you’re watching your own guilty pleasure.

Enjoy!