Random Wednesday Goodness

Yep, still here! Not too much going on at the moment, but here's a brief update:

As you can see by the (expired) ticker in the upper right hand corner, I met my 40 mile cardio goal in March. To celebrate, I decided to take April off. Not from exercising completely, of course - do you not know me at all? - but from making cardio/running my main goal and reporting the progress here.

I have been setting these goals for myself since October, and, to be perfectly honest, I am thoroughly sick of the gym. I've been doing mad yoga (that's not like hot yoga or anything, just an enthusiastic way of saying I've been doing a lot of it), but otherwise, I can't bring myself to walk through the door. Now that it's getting nicer out, anyway, I'd rather bring my workouts outside, and I don't know if they make a ticker that would track my laps up and down the Santa Monica Stairs.

Despite my slacking, I'm not that worried about gaining weight, since, at three weeks into Invisalign, I've already seemed to have lost some. Only 2-3 pounds or so, but that's enough to keep me guilt-free until I consider re-starting the mileage goals in May. Of course, every time I stop working out I tend to lose a little weight, because muscle weighs more than fat. Unfortunately, muscle looks much better in a bathing suit.

Having nothing to do (well, having little to do) with the Ghost Cat, I decided to burn some sage throughout the apartment last week. It's supposed to be a spiritual cleanser, and, truthfully, I felt like my spirit could use some cleansing. So I bought a bundle of sage leaves, read up on how to burn them, and did so last Thursday night. Everyone always talks about burning sage to get rid of spirits and cleanse the soul. You know what no one tells you? That burning sage smells exactly like marijuana. Which I suppose wouldn't be a big deal to some people, but I don't like pot, and more than I don't like pot, I HATE the smell of smoke.

I don't like smoke or the smell of smoke coming within any discernible distance of me. My mom, who is a smoker, mailed me a book last week. It was a great book but I had to read the whole thing in the living room because I didn't want the pages - which still smelled of her Barclay 100's - within breathing distance of my sheets. And, now, here I was spreading what smelled like marijuana smoke all over my comforter, every item in my closet, and every nook and cranny of the house. Wearing my favorite dress that I had just brought back from the dry cleaners. I opened the windows as far as they would go, at which point I realized I was giving my neighbors totally the wrong impression. I'm not nearly that fun.

In any case, the whole time I burned the sage, I mentally told the Ghost Cat he could stay. I really kind of appreciated his presence.

The book, by the way, that my mom mailed me was Carrie Fisher's Wishful Drinking. It was cute, funny - all about her experiences growing up, living, and drinking in Hollywood. It was also a quick read - I read it in three hours one night - so it wasn't that big of a deal to have to read it on my couch.

After I finished that, I immediately started the Dooce book. Hilarious. Awesome. I highly recommend it. It's written in the same witty tone as her blog, but, as a story, is much more thorough and satisfying. I read a little bit each night, the whole time dreading the night it would be done. That night was Monday, so if you have any recommendations, please feel free to make them.

Finally, in case you were wondering, I decided not to take another class this quarter. The Humor Writing class that I wanted turned out not to be closed, but was canceled due to a personal issue with the instructor. None of the other writing classes really grabbed me, and, when I really thought about it, I didn't want to shell out money for tennis lessons -- I already know how to play. So, instead, I am actually attempting to enjoy this down time, reveling in the self-imposed slackdom from the gym, trying to reconnect with my friends and with myself. Doing a little spring cleaning for the soul.

Which, let's be honest, is much more fun than cleaning my apartment.