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I realize this is turning into a Cat Blog.  And, I should feel a twinge of guilt, but  I don’t.  I AM turning into The Cat Lady.  If you’ve been  to my house lately, the evidence would be undeniable.

Being in the committed, monogamous relationship that they are in, my cats consummated their marriage and the result is three preciously adorable white kittens with a smidge of their father just on the top of their foreheads.  All three of them, triplets, white, with a black ish paw print atop their precocious little beans.

And, being committed to Family the way that I am, I have no intention of splitting up this happy home.  So, yes.  I have five cats.  Don’t worry, Mr. has since been fixed, so there will be no more.

I named my kitten Hermes, and Holden, thinking I was going Greek named the others Hera and Apollo.  I was really going for Hermes like the designer, but what’s a ten-year old to understand fashion?  He wears plaid shorts with knee socks and deck shoes.

All this nicety goes without saying that Mr. is STILL a complete asshole.  No, no.  Not to me, per se.  Not on purpose, anyway.  Sometimes he may mistake my feet going down the stairs as playtoys, and attack my toes.  But, this is just a common misunderstanding between cats and feet.  It has nothing to do with the fact that my feet are connected to my person.  My person whom Mr. loves without hesitation.

He just really doesn’t like Others.  As I have mentioned.  Probably in at least nineteen other posts.  Because my effing cat is all I can seem to talk about.  Cripe.

He’s petrified of my grandfather.  Hides under the couch at the mere sound of his voice.  He hissed at my uncle today because Unc looked at Kitty.  Didn’t even reach out for a pet.  Just a look.  So I guess that IM not so much in an abusive relationship with Mr.  It’s just that I’m putting those I love in an inadvertant abusive relationship with him.

Kitty never particularly cared for Former Boyfriend, and while I took that as jealously, hindsight allows me to see it for what it really was:  Good Sense.

Holden has made a new friend this year.  A little Korean boy whose mother is here on a visiting scholar thing at our local university.  Tonite, Frederick is over for a sleepover, and Kitty has done nothing but stalk this kid, slinking in dark corners, apparently hoping to get a piece of him.  And, succeed in this task so Kitty did.  Bit poor Freddie on that skin between your thumb and forefinger?  Ouch.  We are making a terribly good impression on our visitors, aren’t we Cat?

I’m glad Holden’s little buddy is so good-natured, or we may have had a problem.  This was his first American sleepover and he was viciously attacked by an evil black cat.  With no tail to boot!

Yet, this is the same cat, who night after night, kneads the pillow beneath my head until he is perfectly sure that it is comfortable enough for him to lay down and simultaneously purr and headbutt me endlessly while I purr and pet him until we are both tired and full up with our love for each other that we fall asleep with his head buried in my hair and my arm wrapped tightly around him.  Thats love my friends.

…Jesus, Mary and Joseph.  I need a date.  preferably one without claws.


My neice, Maya, comes in from the backyard yelling, “Holden said a naughty word!!”   I ask if it was “shit”.  She says “yes”.  Holden comes in trailing on her heels saying, “NO I DIDN’T SAY THAT!  I said the Eff Word!”

Well, oh.  Der.

Some kids were calling him names and quite honestly, the damn kids had it coming to him.  I kinda wish he’d have cocked his arm back and nailed the vile little creatures in the mouth!  Instead, he calls then Effing Idiots.

Which, okay…don’t say that, okay buddy?  Come get your mom, and I will inihilate them.  With my fury.  And, also, my fists!

Then the other day we were wrastlin’ around and I landed on him.  He grabs his leg, writhing in pain and says, “Holy Shit!”

I looked at him that way, and the writhing stopped immediately.  He knew what was coming.  I told him if he couldn’t control his potty mouth then I was gonna buy a bar of soap.  Cure this the old fashioned Christmas Story way.  That’d teach him.

But the thing is this: he told me.  He said it In Front Of Me.  To my face.  He’s not sneaking off and swearing at school.  He’s keepin’ it in the family.  So while I want this language to stop, and while I make a point of not swearing in front of him at all, I’m very happy that he’s honest and willing to bear the consequences from me because he knows that I lack any kind of punishment skills whatsoever I love him regardless.

This led to a deep discussion with Gabe (formerly Big Hands, currently Ex-Husband Who No Longer Deserves a Kitschy Nick Name) about our new roles as Parents Parenting a Child in Two Different Homes.

This is not gonna be easy.  We have different ways.  Ways that made sense when we were together, as we balanced each other, but now are things that just make you wonder if you are Doing It Right.

We are.  We will.  This will work because we will make it work.  Because it is different now, and because we will have to compensate for each other.  Even when we are only one phone call away.

Holden will swear.  He’ll probably rage sometimes, too.  But, really?  He’d probably do that if we all lived under the same roof.  It’s neither of our faults that he swore.  His potty mouth has little to do with how we are raising him.  I don’t know where it came from, but I doubt its because his parents are divorced and he has a black hole in his heart.

Who knows where these kids come up with stuff…

They have their own fucking little minds, and shit’s just gonna spout out of it some times, right?  Get off their asses!

I voted this morning.

This is the first time I have ever voted where there were still “I voted” stickers left for me to take!  I think this is a Good Omen.  I’m going to my total BFF’s house tonite for an Election Party as her husband is out in the woods for the week.

That is another Good Thing about having been left by my husband; my total BFF is RIGHT AROUND THE CORNER now.  And, I love this.

My friend Lou sent me some flowers yesterday and the card read “Unbroken Spirits Rock!!!!!!”  Everyone passing my cube said, “Oh what lovely flowers!  Who’re they from?” and I’d say my friend Lou.  They’d ask, “Why?” and then I’d say with a completely straight face – Oh, because my husbands left me.

The look of shock and horror on their faces is worth it almost!  I like to shock and awe.

Move in day went very smoothly.  I’m all in and settled.  The accent walls in the kitchenette in my little “cottage” (which is what I’m making everyone refer to it as…) is Tiffany’s Box Blue and all the other walls in the cottage are a Crisp White.  I. Love. It.  Holden’s room is Navy Thunder Power Ranger Blue per his request.  He hasn’t seen it yet as he’s with his Daddy this week, but he says he’s very excited.

I am so blessed to have this kid who is so easy breezy.

This is not the situation I’d prefer to be in, but its the situation I’m in.  I’m making Lemonade, ladies.  And, my does it taste sweet.

Dear Candidate,

Well?  Tonites the Big Night!  Are you totally psyched?  I am!  My fingers and toes are crossed.  I’ll try to wait up till the very end!

Very Excitedly,


We sat Holden down this afternoon and we told him that we were going to try something new.   He asked what and I said that Daddy and I are going to try NOT living together.  He looked at me and said, “This is really shocking news!”  He said “shocking”.  I’m not making this up.

He asked why and I told him it was because Daddy is really selfish and has his head up his ass that sometimes even adults have a hard time making decisions and that Mommy and Daddy had some decisions to make about if they wanted to live together anymore.

Because really?  I guess I do have some decisions to make.  BH isn’t the only one in this relationship with options.

Holden looked scared for a minute and I said that don’t worry, we aren’t getting a divorce right now.  He said, “whew!  I thought that where this was going!”  He said he’d heard us talking a little bit.  He’s no dummy.  We know that.

We asked him how he feels and he said Fine.  I asked if he was sad and he said no.  I told him that its okay to be sad if we need to be.  He said, “Sometimes I am sad.  I’m just not sad right now.”

He wanted to know the logistics.  Who would take him to school and on what days.  All that kind of stuff.  We told him that it would be fine, and we’d work that all out.  He wanted to know whose week was first, and if Dharma was coming with him from Home to Home.  (ummm…thats a big N.O. Big Buddy…sorry)(but we ARE getting the aforementioned kittykat)

He seems okay.  Really.  I figured he would be.  He is an Easy Going Kid.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, please.  I don’t expect him to be okay all the time.  He might not be and that will be okay too.  The big thing, I think, is that if WE are okay, he’ll be okay, too.

Now BH is so sad.  I told him that I thought the whole point of this was so that he would find his Happy.  And, I told him pointedly NOT to be sad because I didn’t want to feel sorry for him.  He said okay.

Next weekends the big move.

Not gonna lie…kind of excited to have My Own.  I love living with myself (and Holden, of course.  But, if you’d ever met the two of us, you’d quickly realize he’s like a part of me.  He’s like my arm or my ear or something).

My book shelf is going to be so happy that it doesn’t have to share itself with books about Tiger Woods and Baseball!

Don’t get me wrong, here.  I came undone.  I walked around this house with a puffy face and puffy eyes for two solid weeks.  I had to cry at night and in the bathroom and then get it together so Holden wouldn’t see me.  I had to scream into pillows and go for car rides so that Holden wouldn’t hear me.  I all but begged BH to change his mind.  Ok.  I begged a little in the beginning.

He’s always been prone to a little depression every now and again.  He’d get into these little funks that would last a couple of days.  He’d feel sorry for himself that he wasn’t living this amazing life that he always thought he’d live.  And, I would always just let him work it out, because, wah, okay?  Grow up.  No one is living the life they thought they’d live!  We are living the lives we HAVE.  Make the most of it!  We have a pretty stinkin’ Good Life, too.

But, he couldn’t get himself out of this last little funk.  And, he’s completely convinced himself that we are together out of obligation to Holden.  Which, der, okay?  I will be the first to admit that there is no way in hell I’d still be with this guy if we hadn’t gotten pregnant.  (This is what’s really killing me about BH right now; he thinks he owns the market on Epiphanies…)  I got bored when I was dating.  I’d find someone cuter than you sooner or later.  I was just biding my time til the next one. 

But, then we DID get pregnant.  It was really hard for those first few years.  I don’t think either of us really liked each other.  Then?  We did.  It really felt like we fell in love.  It was better, too, because we really had to work at it. 

Apparently I roll with the punches a little better than BH, though.  Because I guess that’s not where BH was in all of these TEN YEARS we’ve been together.

He really feels that he’s got to “be true to himself” and “be honest with me”. 

Jeepers.  Thanks.  How very big of you to ruin my life and try to take Holden down with you.

But, you know what?  Holden will be fine.  He will be fine because I will be fine.

My sister Rachael, who has been through two divorces, wishes I was a little angrier with BH.  Wishes I’d really get mad and be a total bitch.  That’s not me.  I know BH isn’t doing this to be mean or vindictive.  He’s doing it because he’s a total selfish man (and by man, I mean Prick) who can’t get his head out of his ass.  I knew this about him when I married him though.

SO.  I cannot afford this house without him.  He totally offered to give me money enough to cover the mortgage if I wanted to stay here.  But, there are also other bills.  Like heat and stuff.  And, I work a part time job.  Which, I am not going to give up because I love to be home with Holden.  That’s where I belong.  Especially now.

Here’s what Imma gonna do: Move in with Dad.  But, not really.  My parents and grandparents built a house together (like a duplex) when I was in high school.  When I was getting ready to come home from college, my grandparents built an apartment in the basement.  I’m going to live there.  Holden and I.

And, you know what?  I’m not going to spend any time lamenting moving home.  The Japanese live this way their whole lives.  The whole fam damily lives together.  Right now, I need to be in the bosom of those who love me the most. Plus, they’ll be no rent!

Its going to be a fine little adventure for Holden and I to have.

Finally, I will be able to put the artwork I want to on the walls.  Finally, I’ll be able to listen to The Village on XM radio all I want to.  Finally, I’ll have the kitten I want.  I’ll be able to leave town without worrying about what I’m going to do with the dog!  (Though I will miss her terribly.)

We are going to try to do week on, week off custody.  We’ll see how Holden likes that.  The good thing about that is I get out of work at 3:30 every day, so I’ll still pick him up every single day.  Even on Daddy’s week.  It wouldn’t be fair to put him in aftercare on BH’s weeks.  So, I’ll still get to see him every day.

It sucks.  This whole thing is ridiculous and stupid.  Though, part of me can’t wait to see this dude live on his own.  He hasn’t cooked himself a meal or washed his own clothes in 10 years.  I refuse to be bitter.  I’ve known him for all these years.  I know him better than he knows himself.  I’m not going to stop being his friend.  He’s a moron.  I also knew that when I married him.

Plus, depression doesn’t look good on me.  I just don’t wear it well.  I gotta just pick myself up by my bootstraps because I’ll be damned if I’m going to teach my son that women have to fall to pieces without men.  Nor am I going to teach my son that a marriage has to be loveless.  Our kids learn relationships from their parents.  I’m going to try not to eff that one up.

Every year Esquire magazine does this segment called “What it feels like…” and they ask a bunch of different people to write what it feels like to do or be various things.  Like, whats it feels like to be a guard at Guantanamo Bay.  Or like what it feels like to be schizophrenic.  Its very real people describing very real stuff that happens in life.  Sometimes its funny, sometimes sad.  Sometimes interesting.  Always Real. 

I’ve always wondered if this was the place for me to be Real.  I mean Really Real.  When my mom died, I struggled with writing because I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer (wah-wah) and I’m just one of those people who kind of guard my feelings.  That is not to say I don’t emote.  I’m an emoting fool.  But, the really hard feelings I like to keep for myself.  Because really?  Its none of any body else’s business.

I have a Thing, though.  A thing I’m really being led to write about.  I think it might help me through it a little, and maybe someone will read this (that’s a mighty big maybe!!) and be able to find the silver lining.

You see?  My husband recently told me that he’s not sure if he really loves me.  He’s not sure if he ever did.

Writing that just made me feel like the biggest failure! 

Big Hands said that he wonders if he’s with me because he feels obligated to be because of Holden.  This came as a total shock to me, I have to admit.  Because I always thought we were living the Good Life.  I really did!  I thought we were a well oiled machine!

I’m learning that I was the machine, though.  Mylove was keeping us together.  Though BH loves me very much, he’s not sure its the real deal.  This is not about me or my inadequacies.  This is about him needing to Find Himself.  I do want to take this opportunity to say to him, “Go West Young Man.  It ain’t so easy out there when no one is taking care of you.”

And, while I don’t want to be the bitter one?  He’s kind of being selfish.  He knows it.  Three weeks ago we were fine.  Now?  We are going to separate!

We haven’t told Holden yet.  I don’t even know how to tell him.  I don’t even think we are doing the right thing!  Sorry Buster!  It took him seven years to marry me and all of three weeks to let me go.

Ugh.  I do not want this to be a pity party.  I am fine.  You know?  I was fine before I met him, and I will be fine again.  I put my Big Girl Panties on the other day and decided that I OWN this thing.  Its MINE.  I will regain all of myself that I gave to him for the last ten years.  I can put whatever I want to on the walls!  I can make whatever I like for dinner!  I will watch what I want to on the television!  I will see the movies that interest me!  I will get a kitten!

I’m going to find the humor in this, I will.

I’m going to put it all out there.

I’m going to be free to be me!

Those of you that know me will know that I have a pretty laid back parenting style (that is until that kid pisses me off).  I don’t really make Holden do anything.  Other than piano.  We MAKE him take piano.  But, I know that as a parent you only get so many battles, and I’m saving all of mine up for when he’s a teenager.  Its at that point I think I’ll really shine as a parent.  I look forward to buying him his first car!  So I can take it away from him…bwaaahahahahah!!!

And, don’t try to burst my bubble, here, okay?  I live for 16.

Anyhoodle…Holden, until recently, didn’t really have any “chores”.  Mostly because, really?  How big of a mess can one kid make?  And, I like to pick things up to ensure they go back in the right bin.  And, if I ask him to take care of something, he rarely gives me any resistance.  He’s pretty easy going, too.

One day I just got sick of unloading the dishwasher.  Simply?  I HATE taking the dishes out of that machine.  I’d rather just wash them by hand and take care of them.  Alas, I am too lazy for that, too.  So, I said, “Buddy?  Your new job is to empty the dishwasher.”  He said, “Okay.”  Too easy.

This is how Holden takes care of the dishes.  Wrongly.  And, I know this is my  hang-up, I do.  I am just really particular about which compartment the big spoons and little spoons go in.  That is to say they both have their own compartment, and, gee wouldn’t it be great if they actually ended up there?  Same goes for the forks.  And?  The pots go on that side of the cupboard; the tupperware goes there.

But, he’s only nine.  So I don’t actually SAY these things to him.  Well, I have mentioned the silverware once or twice.  Or thrice.  And then I may have mentioned that I was sick of mentioning it and to get it right, already!  And, he may have told me that he would remember it a little easier if there weren’t SO MANY forks and spoons!  Gosh!

But, at least I’m not doing the work.  I can’t wait til I feel he is old enough to deal with chemicals, and his butt will be totally cleaning the bathrooms!  Yahoo!

I AM so lucky to have a kid like Holden.  He is one funny dude.  Until he is not.  Then he’s a total pain in the butt.  Those days are, luckily, far and few between.  Its so easy to forget how good you’ve got it. 

I try to remember and be grateful for my family every day.  This little nest we three have created for ourselves.  Its easy to take it for granted…Especially when your husband scores ONE ticket to see the Candidate at the University tomorrow, and does not get you a ticket, or try very hard to get you a ticket, at least, because, what? its not like you aren’t so very passionate about this candidate that seeing him in person could very well change your life…Yes, yes.  Its easy to lose sight of the bigger picture which is that everyone is healthy, and for the most part; happy (especially Big Hands).

And most importantly?  The dishwasher is emptied.  Well, that, AND that there are no wire hangers…


Written from memory from a conversation we had about five minutes ago.  I should carry a tape recorder with me at all times:

In Middle School and High School there are a lot of groups.  Cool, Nerd, Jock, Jerk.

The Cool Kids get the girls and wear the good clothes.

The Nerds are all about schoolwork, schoolwork, homeword, social studies work, and educational work.

The Jocks are too physical, and the Jerks are just ‘eeeeeeeeeeerrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh’.

You don’t want to be in any of these groups because you don’t want to be too educated, you don’t want to be too physical, you don’t want to be meanie, but I guess you want to be a little cool.

You don’t want to fall in love with a girl thats older than you because if that girl already has a boyfriend, well then that’s bad.  And she’ll also think that she is a Wolfette and you are a cute little puppy dog.

I said, Where in the world did you hear such a thing?  He says, I just KNOW things Mom.  I said, Yeah.  But where’d you hear it from?  He says, Suite Life of Zach and Cody.
Thanks Mickey.


I try really hard not to force my opinion on Holden.  I wish I could say the same for BH!  This conversation WAS indeed apropo of nothing.

He: I really don’t think John McCain made a very good Vice President choice.

Me:  Who IS his choice, Buddy?

He: I dunno her name.  That lady from Alaska.

Me:  Why don’t you think she’s a good choice?

He: Well, Mom!  She’s got like FIVE kids!

Me: So?  There’s lots of mommies who work.  I work.

He:  Well, she’s got a baby who has Down’s Syndrome!  When you are the Vice President, I suppose you hafta spend a lot of time in the Office, and she should be taking care of that baby!  What if one day when she’s spending all her time in the Office that baby just (at this point he makes the universal Throat Slit and Croak sign with his finger across his neck)????

Me:  HOLDEN!  That baby is not going to DIE from Down’s Syndrome!

He: Oh.  Well, still.  I could understand if those kids were all college age.  Then they could all feed their own selves.  But they’re not.  Who is going to make them dinner?

Me:  I really don’t know, Buddy.  She fired the Chef.

With Big Hands in Chicago moshing himself silly to Rage Against the Machine, Holden and I took the opportunity to go to the lake.  Just me and Holden.  And, also: Dharma. 

I love the lake.  It is quiet and safe.  Everybody’s kids just hop on their bikes and you don’t see them til dinnertime.

There’s a giant crocodile shaped trampoline out in the middle of the lake, and the kids go out there for hours and jump off it.

I love the lake.  I can usually read an entire novel while I’m there.  Time before last I read Coronado by Dennis Lehane.  It was just a book of short stories, but it was so good.  I wish he’d come out with a new novel…This last time I read a Dean Koontz book.  Lord, in Heaven, I haven’t read a book by him since I was in the eighth grade.  I used to love to hole myself up in my room and read thrillers!  Not that Koontz is thriller-ish.  Is he?  Is that was that genre is?  Whatever.  Used to love it.  Guess I still do!  I ran through that book in like four hours!

I love that kind of laziness the lake affords.  Who has to do anything?  Not me.  Maybe I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich, maybe you’ll make it yourself.  Who cares!!!

The only thing I absolutely do not do at the lake is sunbathe.  Those days are over for me I think.  Beige is the new tan.

I did something a little different this time at the lake.  Something I don’t often do.  I went ape shit crazy on some little kid.

He had it coming to him.  He called my kid a name.  And, it wasn’t “stupid” or “dummy-head” or any other forgiveable crap name kids call each other.  This name was a personal attack, I felt.  And, Holden wasn’t even really that shook up over it.  But he did quit playing on the crocodile.   That crocodile?  Well its out there, but not so far away from the dock that One Mother couldn’t stomp out there, bend down, and quietly but forcefully through gritted teeth tell those little assholes that they better watch their mouths.  Did they want me to get their mothers(who, btw should have been out there watching their kids, anyway…um…see the sign, moron mommies???)?????  Yeah, well I didn’t think so.  When they call names like that it makes other kids not want to play on that crocodile, and thats not their crocodile.  You got me?  You?  In the blue shorts?  Do. You. Understand. Me?  Good.  Don’t let it happen again.  I’m watchin’ you.

And, then, said Mother may have stomped back to the beach.  But, oh.  One Mother was still mad.  Steaming.  Little bullies.  Who dotheythinktheyareanyway?? Gah.  Then One Mother may walk over to another mom and ask if those are her boys out there.  And that mommy may say no, but she thinks the one belongs to Floyd over there coming in on the jet ski.  And One Mother?  Oh, she might stomp right over to Floyd, jut out her hand in an attempt to shake, introduce herself as “Jennifer, Dallas’ daughter” (because I just assume that everyone knows who Dallas is.  Why?  Because everyone does…) and then dip into a tirade about the name calling and how its “bullshit” and blah blah blah.

Floyd, and I’m not even making that name up, told his boys C’mere and the one just starts a cryin’.  He knows.  The other kid comes too, and already is saying, “I didn’t call him any namth”.  And I’m thinking, Really?  Lispy Lisperton is making fun of my kid???  Floyd tells them that wasn’t nice and he didn’t raise them that way and to apologize to the lady and her son.  And, they do.

And then we shake and go on our way.  But not before Floyd asks me if that was my Gramma that passed away, and I tell him, no, it was my mom.  Der.   

But, I tell you.  I wondered, “did I over react????”.  I asked Holden if I embarrassed him.  He said no.  I told him if people talk to him like that to say, “Do NOT talk to me like that, understand?”  And, I made him practice saying that.  I mean, Holden NEVER gets picked on.  EVERYBODY likes Holden.  What was their problem??  You know what it was?  I heard the dad say, “Buddy, some kids have longer hair.”  Then I was even more pissed.  REALLY?  His shaggy hair is what made those asskids call him names?  Well, they should come into my community with their little buzz cuts.  Cuz here?  We play soccer, and our hair is shaggy.  Our LaCrosse team would Kick Your Ass.

But that’s what being a mother is all about, right?  I can tell, that for me?  Its going to be a constant struggle to keep myself from gouging other kid’s eyes out.

My son went on a field trip to a local park today.  When I picked him up I asked if he had fun.

“Yeah.  There was this little playhouse. And people had written stuff with marker and pencil all over it.  One said ‘i heart jeel, he’s hot like fire’.”  And then we chuckled.

I said that I sure hoped there were no bad words there.  He said, “Well…there was this one that said, ‘Travis sucks.  Dick.”  NOW Im sure that it said, “Travis sucks dick”, but Holden had no idea what that meant.  I could tell by the the way he said it.  Like it was two sentences.  And, like it was no big deal to say that word in front of your mom. 

Don’t worry though.  I totally just told him what it meant because he was reading this over my shoulder and wanted to make absolutely sure that I told you about “Travis sucks.  Dick.”  And I said, DONT EVER SAY THAT AGAIN!!  And he said why, so I told him. 

I wish I could have captured the look of sheer hilarity on his face.  Apparently, to an almost nine year old, calling your penis “dick” is funny.  Just about as funny as saying “penis” of “fart”.  Or hearing someone else say “ass”.  Which is the funniest thing ever.

The most NOT funniest thing ever is that Im pretty sure I broke my stomach during yoga this morning.  I found a yoga program on the Oxygen Channel at 6 a.m.   As part of Operation Jen Kicks Total Butt (or should I say ass…tee hee) it has been my resolve to get physical.  I’ve been walking most every night after dinner.  I’ve been drinking forty five thousand million gallons of water a day, and I’ve limited my Oreo intake to 1/4 of a box a night.

Eventually, when I have plumb LOST MY FRIGGIN MIND, I want to start running.  Kir?  You made it sound fun.  Ish.  I want buns of steel.

BUT, I love yoga, and I was in a class before my mom got real sick and I had to quit it.  Then I learned that the teacher went all hinky with her hours and I couldn’t find a class with her that meshed with my schedule.  SO I found “Inhale” with Steve Ross.

This dude is trying to kill me.  He thinks I’m waaaaay more flexible than I am.  He wanted me to sit in a pretzel position and lift my butt off the floor using my arms.  He’s one funny dude, that Steve.  I was sweating like a pig.

And, man, if I wasn’t loving every second of it!