Bye Bye Brown

I am obsessed with these rugs. Which is totally crazy since I spent the first 10 years of my adult life surrounded in a sea of brown, tan and cream. Now I just need to pick a few to add to my perfect little girly flat. Poor Tim... Any ideas on which ones to pick?

AtOne

Oh how I miss AtOne Yoga. I just attended a German Yoga class and it had none of the essential addicting elements. There were no sweating feet on slipping yoga mats. No handstands and blarring music. No cramming 50 people into a small 90F studio and then losing yourself into the music and ryhmatic flow of energy. And of course this class was sans hot tattooed instructors with Southern accents and tanned skin.

These daily sessions of bending and strengting both mind and body were such an important part of my daily routine in Phoenix. The time spent at the studio was mine to be selfish and recover and build a new life.

Next week I will try a new studio and hope to find my balance and flow in this new home I am creating.

Me at Lunch

Me: I got honked at today by a tractor driver.

The Guys: Are you sure?

Me: Yes, I a swear. And the best part was that I was totally covered up. I had a hat, gloves, scarf, big huge jacket and winter boots.

The Guys: And you got honked at by a guy on a tractor?

Me: YES!

Oh, hey do snow plows look like tractors...all big and yellow?

The Guys: Yes. And did you have a Starbucks??

Me: Umm..yeah, it was a snow plow and he was probably admiring my hot cup of coffee.

The Guys: Yep...

Comfort and Joy

The BEST part of a new city....

The FRIENDS waiting there for you.

Two Years and Counting

So now it has been two years and I am fine. Really, seriously fine like the whole broken heart bit never happened. When did I get better? I don't know... Like every challenge I have taken, I was too busy enjoying the process to notice. And now it has been two years and the pain is gone. It would be nice to know exactly how long it took so I could make a little calendar for my next friend with a broken heart. One of those daily rip a page off kind. It could have a task for the day. Something like, invite a friend to yoga...a good workout and one hour when you will not feel crazy or cry (452 days to go). Or buy a new book...reading is a much better midnight activity than text messaging your ex (435 days to go).

Tea Party

Further proof of Sherman's full recovery.

For all of you that are getting bored of dog photos, I will be traveling again soon. You will just love where I am going...

And good thing it will be warm there (hint). My jacket is broken. Seriously, it is negative 12 here and I had it zipped way up to my chin and then nothing. The zipper would not budge. So, I started to panic and then I had the brilliant idea to pull the thing off over my head. Not as simple as it sounds. Also, about half-way I changed my mind and decided the chance of smothering myself with the big thick cashmere scarf wraped around my neck was too great. And what a way to die right? Remember I live alone and this was all happening in my flur (translation...foyer). AAHH, by the time I wrestled the thing off I had a huge red mark on my forhead from the aforementioned zipper.

Bliss

This just happens to be my best mail day EVER! Thank you Amazon. You are the giver of much joy. I should have started sending myself care packages months ago. In fact I am tempted to publish my address just so I can get more crap TV show DVDs and decorating magazines, English only please. Just kidding. But seriously, you might not hear from me for awhile. I have already spent the entire night binging on season one of the Real Housewives; which happens to be a totally entertaining show. Come on, I can't be the only one who loves it. There are four seasons! During the crap TV marathon (first episiode) I flipped through all four magazines. Forget the whole savor business from my earlier post. Then I broke into the workout DVDs. The yoga was perfect so I decided to forge on with the 30 day shred. Now I can barely move (seriously it hurts to type) and I am pretty sure I am in trouble with Mrs. Mehren, my downstairs neighbor. Is it rude to do jumping jacks in a 100 year old creaky house?

And how is Sherman, you ask? Barking his ears off at me as we speak....