Thursday, July 4, 2013


• The other day when I wanted key lime pie (of course I want it still), I made key lime toast to tide me over. I smeared a good slab of bread with key lime curd, put it under the broiler for a bit, and then dusted it with some powdered sugar. It was a more than satisfactory breakfast.

• Would you like a reason not to cheat on your wife? Here’s one: every single thing good thing you ever did or attempted to do will be mocked mercilessly by your ex-in-laws. No matter how heartfelt at the time, no matter how seemingly kind, everything will disintegrate into fair game for ridicule, ‘cause you douched it up big time and had an affair with your friend’s skantastic wife, turning your ex-wife into a despondent heap of weeping.

Sometimes when I don’t want to wash dishes, I just throw them away. Ceramic plates. Nice utensils. Tupperware thingies. Even mixing bowls. Sometimes they just end up in the trash. The times that that happens are usually times when whoremones are in charge.

The downside of dating Jim is The Wasband. I'm pretty desperate to be completely done with my ex, but choosing to date Jim means that I won’t be wholly rid of the old spouse until Jim’s dough runs out and The Wasband has to find another gravy train. I knew this fact when I set my sights on Jim, and it’s solidly on the con side of the To Date or Not To Date list. Shrink Nancy says that our situation (dating your wayward spouse’s mistress’ ex-husband) isn’t all that unusual, but it does come with the lame-ass complication of being in the loop on your ex’s comings and goings. I'm hoping to numb up in that area. Jim's seeing success there; he's not mad or clinging. So I'm thinking that if I'm lucky, his few-steps-ahead progress might rub off on me. and I'll become less affected.

• Ask me what I plan to do for the 4th of July . . . Sleep. Vacuum the house. Go to yoga. Sleep. Walk my puppy. Sleep. Log work calls. Make lists. Submit essays to, like, 30 pubs. Water my geraniums. Eat six or eight Kumatoes. Listen to food TV. And sleep. It might sound mundane, but that is exactly what I want for my 32nd Independence Day—total independence. 

• My Soph had a hair appointment this morning. Like the idiot I am, I always schedule her spa appointments around 7AM. "It will help me kick off my day nice and early!" So I show up to the groomer a few minutes late and looking like one beat dog owner. Jim had to swing by my house this morning to pick up his computer on the way to work. Since I left nearly on time, I just missed him. When I got back home to put on my makeup and tame my hair, I found a sweet note on my bathroom counter and a made bed. That’s right, team, he saw that I left without tugging my bedclothes into place and did it for me. Sorry any and all single women out there, I’m absolutely keeping this one.

• After 600-some-odd classes over the course of my Bikram practice, I finally did my first double this last Monday. I did two Bikram classes in one day. To some that will sound nutsy. To others, weak. To me, it was just about time. About time I did that. I’m a supremely lazy yogi. My fellow Bikramites do challenges—30 classes in 30 days, 60 classes in 60 days, 90, 105, and my friend Kim even did 124 classes in 124 days. They’re all nutsy. Badass, but nutsy. My personal goal is 200 classes in 2013, and though it sounds paltry, it’ll be quite the deal getting that done. Although I love going to class and crave that hot hell, there are always just too many reasons to skip class. Ice cream. Naps. Wet toenails. Packages on my front porch. Empty humidifier in my bedroom. Hangnail. Rotten vegetables in the crisper. Skin slick with lotion. Traffic. New episode of MasterChef on Hulu. Old episode of MasterChef on Hulu. Boyfriend available to make out. House needs vacuuming. Short hair. Dead phone. Unread books. And on. And on . . . It's actually a wonder I ever hit the mat at all. 

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