Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

After a week where some jackal decided to call me a five, without my asking, I give you this.  Not long ago I set out to conquer the pole.   Okay, well not really conquer but to shimmy and shake my ass in the name of exercise and self-preservation.   I mean, as a child we had to put the dishes away and sweep the floor as chores but little did we know that somewhere over the proverbial bridge of adulthood chores would become more cumbersome than that.   Now . . . now we shimmy and shake our bodies on spin bikes, running routes, various forms of yoga, and for the really adventurous as moments of cardio while shopping.   Working out is the new chore of life, as it keeps the body in motion, joints working, and as I’m told by a MD I pay good money to see that it will lengthen my life.   I side eye him wondering how he really knows this.   Yet, I drag myself to gyms, spin classes, on road courses, and other modes of physical hell more fre...

In the year, plus I've had this tiny basement studio I seem to have lost my mind in it more than once.  Okay, well, probably more than once or twice but . . . the point du jour here: there are moments in life when you have to stand back and laugh, cry, or just throw in the towel.  Lately, as it has been no secret, I've been doing a lot of contemplating of where I'm moving to next.  Boston was long on the life list, as has been parts of Europe, a sojourn (or more like a prolonged stay) in India, and a writer's retreat to France (with a long stop in Paris, the city of my long-time fantasy lover's dream).  Honestly, I can't stomach to think about it all right now . . . the spiral is not a pleasant one to view at the moment.  The sending of articles, the waiting on review, the wonder if the you'll cobble together enough writing checks to pay the bar tab . . .  The markers of life and stress should note: This is not a roach.   Yea.  Twice now I...