Things that happened in the 6 weeks since I last did anything on this blog:
1. We went to Stowe for a week. It was lovely. It was not the city. We hiked and kayaked and ate a lot of mediocre ski town restaurant food. We also enjoyed the company of Scully, who we brought with us at the last minute and who might have had more fun on vacation than anyone else.
2. Our fantasy football league’s draft. In the middle of round 3, my laptop froze and there were a lot of colorful words in the air while Lunchboy rushed to get the downstairs desktop logged on (I would have done it but was extremely busy freaking out). Kickoff was last night and I’m excited for the season. Last year I got a leetle too into it and then burnt out before the Superbowl, so I am learning my lesson and pacing myself.
3. Tom Brady’s ex had their baby so I have been able to stop checking Inside Track roughly every 6 seconds.
4. Justin Timberlake had a concert special on HBO. SexyBack and Rock Your Body are really good songs but the rest of his music isn’t great, so we were both a little surprised by how mesmerized we were. Perhaps it was his fey boy-bandiness? His hiring of Janet Jackson’s choreographer? The way he flogged every tired arena concert trick in the book? Just in case anyone forgot where he was playing (Madison Square Garden in New York City, New York), JT helpfully blurted out, “New York!” every few minutes. So last night we watched part of the rerun and made a drinking game out of it. JT is much better watched when drunk.
5. I started doing biweekly group sessions with a personal trainer. He’s funny, flamboyant, looks like Chiz and Higgypiggy combined, has lots of good stories from his days as a designer for Tommy Hilfiger, and he kicks my ass so hard that I’m asleep by 7pm on workout days. Suddenly I have guns! After all my self-flagellation over Mysore, I realized I was burnt out on yoga—on getting in the practices, making it home in time for class, pushing through yet another class where the instructor can’t keep their sides straight. It feels good to mix things up. I’m still at yoga 1-2 times a week but I am amazingly less stressed now that I don’t have “Four times a week or die!” emblazoned in my brain.
6. Anxiety—it’s what’s for dinner. But the weights help. So does the clonozepam that my doctor was lovely enough to prescribe. C’est la vie.