Skip to main content
I have to leave in 45 minutes. In a half-assed attempt at poorly thought out New Year's resolutions, I signed up for a hot yoga class two weeks ago. I actually signed up for two, then I skipped it last week cause I didn't get up early enough.

Oh yeah, the class is at noon. So that's my legacy so far this year, noon is too early to roll out of bed.

Anyway, I skipped last week and if I skip again this week, they'll charge me $20. So I face a big decision - lazy or cheap? And cheap wins, so in 39 minutes I will be sitting in a 110 degree room, trying not to throw up or pass out. (help me)

It's a good thing another resolution is not caring what others think of me. Along with wearing red lipstick and having some money once in a while and not being lazy.

(As an aside. I wore red lipstick out last night, but I worried about what other people were thinking about me the whole time, so we'll call that a draw.)

Also, sorry about that disastrous Fall Challenge. What a disappointment.

If I make it through today, I'll let you know how it goes. Here's to staying conscious!

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

is this thing on??

I am doing this in an effort to be more organized with my time, to hold myself accountable for doing purposeful things, to connect to a new community, and to find some sacred space in which to do...whatever.  But in this, my first night of blogging, I'm finding I'm incredibly stressed out.  What a lot of pressure for something that may, or most likely will not, be read by someone who doesn't already know me.  I must admit, after about 45 minutes of thinking of a witty, clever, insightful, and original title (I ended up stealing mine from Ben Sollee.  It's a great song, check it out), I started to have second thoughts about this whole blogging thing.  But I (we?) press on. I guess there aren't really any rules so I'll start easy.  I'm going to list the reasons this makes me uncomfortable.  It goes back to holding myself accountable for my insecurities and one of the blogging websites said that readers find lists agreeable.  So we're off...

in keeping with tradition

So it's Lent.  Big excitement.  I made fasnachts yesterday after work.  I love them, and the tradition in my family of making them.  I look forward to it every year.  Until it gets here and I actually have to do it.  Perhaps its because the last several years when I've made them I've done so alone.  Baking is always more fun with someone else.  As tradition dictates (i.e. what my dad did), I have to start the dough the Monday night before Fat Tuesday.  I'm pretty sure tradition also dictates that I don't start the process until, like, 11 pm.  So, I obliged.  By midnight I'd produced a giant bowl of potato dough, a mess in the kitchen, and a stomachache from eating said potato dough.  Tradition then dictates that you wake up way too early (6ish) to roll out all the dough, let it rise again, cut it into doughnut shapes, poke holes in it, fry it (all 60 some doughnuts), and sugar bomb them.  I set my alarm.  I did....

The Inspiration of Ben Sollee

I decided in fourth grade that I would be a cello player.  It happened during one of my sister's orchestra concerts I was undoubtedly forced to attend; during an upbeat and peppy number, with lots of minor and mediocre choreography so as not to confuse the grade school children, the sixth graders spun their cellos.  Right then and there I decided I, too, would play the cello. And I guess my parents thought so too, because soon after I was the sole possessor of a beautiful, half size, Engelhardt cello.  A month or so in, however, I realized it took a lot of work to actually play the cello.  A waste of time, it seemed, to a precocious nine year old who had TV to watch and barbies to play with.  Plus, I could already spin it fine - I had that down after, like, 2 practice days. Bet he had to practice to do that. I don't remember how long I kept up the ruse of playing an instrument.  I'd go in my room to practice, hit a few strings (I ...