Blame it on my raging hormones, maybe, but last night I had a dream about Justin Bieber.
No, not that kind of dream. Ick. I wasn't even going to share this, but my eldest was laughing so hard and thought I needed to share it with the world. So here goes nothing.
(begin dream sequence. Fade in after ripple effect....)
Justin Bieber grows up to be, of all things, an attorney. And it's present day, not twenty years from now, but he is 20 years older. And it's a dream, so this can totally happen.
I know he is an attorney because my husband has to work a mediation with him and he isn't looking forward to it. He really doesn't care for Bieber at all because of the attitude. Seems that, in trying to distance himself from the pop stardom of his youth (not unlike Robin Sparkles), le Biebe has turned into a bit of a stressed-out, up-tight, jerkified attorney that no one likes to do business with because he takes himself too seriously.
The whole dream was basically an extended grumble by my husband about how difficult it was to work with this guy. And how he should totally get over himself because no one cares about the pop star thing except that it was taking the focus off the case and distracting participants. And no one cares about his hair anymore, but it doesn't look like he's balding.
Which is all a lot funnier if you knew my husband. The end.
(ripple fade out to black)
Dreams are not that funny when you retell them. They make you sound like an idiot.
Also, because a post is soooo much better with photos, check out some of the the french macarons we got last weekend for the eldest's birthday from Natasha's Mulberry and Mott... yum yum good.
The sewing bug seemed to leave as quickly as it came around here. I think now that we are seeing sunshine and warmer temperatures, my basement studio isn't looking quite so tempting. Perhaps I just need to take the machine upstairs for a bit and have at it.
Happy new week, friends! xoxo