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Reading/Watching:

Someday I'm going to London to mimic people's accents and see if they can tell I'm faking it.

Someday I'll be in a restaurant and look across the aisle to another table and see a good-looking guy watching me. Smiling. And it won't be because I have spinach in my teeth.

Someday I'm going to a book store and spending a fortune on every single book, magazine, little-bitty reading light, and bookmark with an Anne Geddes baby on it.

Someday I'll sit in a bistro in Paris, spending too much money on a croissant au chocolat and make a little-girl-ew face when the waiter offers me coffee.

Someday a book on that little table in Barnes & Noble will be by me. And someone else will graze the dust jacket with their fingers and whisper in determination, "this will be me."

Someday a sunrise will reduce me to tears and someone will be there to wipe the tears away.

Someday I'll sit down at a white piano and play Butterfly River for my daughter.

Someday I'll giggle when I stumble upon a Katie Fan Site.

Someday cheese will be its own food group.

Someday I'll spread my arms wide and sing a high C from the top of a turret on the Great Wall of China.

Someday I'll know how to cook.

Someday someone will want me to write a letter of recommendation for them.

Someday the Texas Music Educators Association will contact me asking if I'd like to guest direct their mixed all-state choir. And I'll say I need to think about it, just to make 'em sweat.

Someday my opera aria will garner a standing ovation from people in white gloves.

Someday my son will cry and cry until the baby-sitter has to call me at the restaurant so I can sing him quiet.

Someday I'll have a flowerbed to grow irises and wild roses in.

Someday I'll go to the grocery store and the checker will recognize the name on my credit card.

Someday I'll finally have the body to wear sequins.

Someday I'll have a week to spend walking through the Louvre.

Someday I'll fly over to take in the Sistine Chapel, too.

Someday at an airport in Iowa I'll bump into one of the Dork Sisters and we'll drive off to check out some cornfields.

Someday I'll know the HTML for frames on my website.

Someday I'll have the time to learn the HTML for frames on my website.

Someday I'll want what I have, and still remember how good it feels to breathe cold air into your lungs and feel wind sting your cheeks pink.

Someday I won't have any somedays left. Because someday they'll be memories, not wishes.

Someday this diary entry will end.

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