I was looking forward to my romantic evening alone all day. I had it all planned out, too.

After running errands all day (I did accomplish all of them; no small feat), I came home and cooked myself garlic lime chicken. The chicken was accompanied by a green salad and a glass of merlot. Dessert was blackberries with cream. A fine meal, if I must say so myself.

In honor of the special occasion, I rented two movies. The Mexican was disappointing; The Tango Lesson was excellent. If I had seen The Mexican in a movie theater, I probably would have left halfway through. The Tango Lesson, on the other hand, was well worth the time. The dialogue and the music were superb. Plus, it made me want to learn to tango.

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Our computers at work are being re-imaged next week, which caused a flurry of panic in the office. Re-imaging totally erases the hard drive and reloads the software. So I spent some time yesterday backing up and cleaning out my hard drive.

I came across a photo my cousin had sent me over two years ago. It is a relic of our first Burning Man experience. It was taken soon after we arrived into Black Rock City. The photo captures the "soul" of Burning Man: crazy, dusty, slightly out-of-focus. It's too classic not to share:

That's me on the left, in the rubber go-go dress. Cousin Hoo is on the far right. Her housemate, Rick, is in the middle.

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Well, I'd better call it a night. I'm leaving town tomorrow morning so I should get my beauty rest.

Ya'll have a nice weekend, ya hear?