Sweet dreams are made of cheese ...

It's currently 4:15 Sunday morning and I can't sleep. I woke up half an hour ago from a dream with a racing heart. I was suddenly wide awake, fully alert, with all my senses engaged. It felt almost like I was having a nightmare, but then realized there was none of the terror I associate with bad dreams. Instead, I only felt ... euphoric.

I was dreaming about eating pizza.

That's probably a sign I should partake in that cheat meal Kemper has talked to me about.

So Monday night is my final weigh-in with the man. (Have I mentioned that yet?) I have prepared a list of eleventy-billion questions to ask him in order to squeeze every bit of knowledge from him while he is there in person. I may have spent Saturday night on a double date with both Google and Youtube because apparently I get around I needed a little bit of information to be able to plan my next steps. I'm going to ask him to look things over and see if I'm heading in the right direction.

(Also, I'm going to beg ask nicely if he will consider training me once a month. It's not how he does things, but I bet if we all left a nice comment for Kemper begging asking nicely if he would just think about it, my chances may improve.)(Feel free to comment on this post or on Facebook.)(I'll totally make sure he sees them all.)(For those of you that think I am playing dirty, it's simply because I need Kemper to teach me to clean.) (I'm.dying.)(Because weight lifting joke.)

I have a post coming soon about Lauren's baby shower because that totally happened on Saturday. I'll also update you on the stats from the weigh-in because I know you are on the edge of your seats over that. In the meantime, send this sister some love because Monday is going to be a hard (#firstworldhard) day. Please and thank you.