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***This is not the beginning of another weekly/monthly/whenever I feel like it…I’m just being lazy and have a lot of random things to say, so it’s like a freestyle–off the top of my head, creative (hopefully), and interesting.

Random thought number one: My abs and arms are burning! Yoga fit abs is twelve minutes of Hell on Earth, but I know it works because I finished over twelve minutes ago and my arms and abs are still tingling…or I’m that out of shape, but since I exercise quite regularly now, I revert to the former opinion.

Why have I been writing so much about sports/using so many sports metaphors lately, knowing I know next to nothing about sports. I need to get back to writing about things I know about–like writing, music, creativity, randomness, movies, cookies, cooking, and using my rapidly expanding knowledge of yoga and accounting.

I went looking for a site to find other black women who are into yoga (the fit part, and the breathing…I’m not into making it a religion, I have a Savior),  but instead I found BAP Living, a subject I’ve been interested in and aspiring to since I bought and read the BAP handbook. This site is not entirely like the handbook, but it seems like something fun to get into.  It still doesn’t have much to do with yoga, so back to square one on that.

Blondie doesn’t touch anything she would eat with her hands. It’s a weird OCD quality. She is a germophobe, so she doesn’t want to put germs on her food, I guess. She eats sandwiches and french fries with a fork. She puts her pills in the top of her asprin bottle and tosses them into her mouth. If someone puts their finger in her asprin to get some out, she will throw them away. While I find all of this overkill, at least I know she washes her hands faithfully. That’s more than I can say for a lot of nasty people I’ve seen walk in and out of bathrooms without washing a hand. Then want you to eat at the potluck…child, please!

Sara has given me so many shirts I may never have to buy shirts again, unless I keep losing weight in my waist. My pants no longer fit snug at the waist. I actually need a belt. Don’t have one, because I always buy snug jeans, but I needed one today. I think I may have flashed a cowork or two the waistband of  my boyshorts. Thank goodness I shower and wear clean underwear everyday! LOL Sitting here, I have a little less stomach in my lap. It’s progress.

A friend of mine wants me to review his music in my blog. I may get to it this weekend or next week. I’ve always liked his music before, but I thought he was primarily a jazz musician. This is a R&B album, he assures me. I’m glad, because I have no special qualifications to review jazz music, other than the fact my stepfather was a self-taught jazz musician, so I know what makes the compositions sound “smooth” (that jazz “real jazz fans” dislike), what improvisation sounds like, and how jazz slips in that little opening in your soul and plays with all of your emotions. I guess you could say I have the words for their sounds, but I feel on more sure ground with R &B, as I cannot myself do more than pick out a few notes and chords. I sang in choir, was even invited to sing in the Spring Festival for judges and be graded for the State competition, but I never went. It’s true; I am a chicken. I cannot sing in front of  a crowd to save my life, but I tear it up in my car, in my shower, in front of Mom, Mr. P., my brother, in a crowd, or in former times with my stepdad.

What other random things can I say? Yoga is teaching me rhythm, at least in breathing , something which is also helpful in the gym. I can focus in on my breathing and find my zone so easy. I’ll be running again in no time. Once I actually begin to jog, of course. I haven’t been on a treadmill in weeks. I am still conquering the cybex machine. I got up to 30 minutes on the weight loss program yesterday. My heart rate got up to an alarming 187 before my breathing exercises brought it back into the safe and fat burning  mid-150s. I can also hold myself up on my elbows and forearms and do those leg lifts. I can get up to ten in a row.  I can do fifty rows on the rowing machine, and fifty each on the hip abductor and adductor machines.

I still need to write more and get involved in more of these other goals before the month is over this weekend, but the Australian Open, Mr. Perfect, yoga, the gym, my mama, my friends, and my body’s needs for rest are probably going to keep me busy enough!