This morning was a Fuck This Fucking Shit morning. You know those mornings. The ones when you can’t remember a single viable reason why you do any of the shit you usually do. Like, holy crap, who cares, right???
For example, “I’m not doing yoga,” I announced to no one. “Fuck yoga. Yoga sucks. Nobody cares if I knock myself out on the mat every day, why do I work so hard at this, anyway? I should give it up. It wouldn’t change a damn thing. I’m just going to flake out on the couch.” Oh, yeah, I was a real pleasure to be around this morning.
Honestly, yoga has been hard lately. My wrists have been aching and kind of burning—as a result, clearly, of a resurgence of interest in improving my jumpback. So I’ve been doing more jumpbacks, on blocks, and more forcefully—well, not forcefully, but just, you know, pushing myself. STUPID. I always get hurt whenever I decide I’m going to try harder on any aspect of the Primary. I really should have learned by now to cut that out.
Anyway, this morning, in addition to pining for coffee, being short with Paul, and hating my novel, I hated yoga too. Go me.
But then Sophie says, “Mom, you should do your yoga so that you that when you’re old you don’t walk like this,” and she demonstrates a hunchbacked posture and takes a few mincing steps. “If you give up yoga then you’re backbend will look like this,” she strains to get a glimpse of the ceiling from a face that is pointed down-ish over hunched shoulders, “and you won’t be able to play with me. You should do your yoga because I want to play with you even when you’re old.”
Okay, yeah, I’m tearing up a little bit. Piss off.
Sigh. So, anyway, I did yoga. A lame-ass, grumbling yoga practice, true, but still.
Good to remember that somebody does care, after all.
Newsletter of Awesomeness
Buy my books!
Ghost Fugue, for 3 Voices, now available on Amazon.
Creature of Dreams, now available on Amazon.
Children of the Fallen, now available on Amazon.
The haunted and talented children of the glorious and terrifying...
Toby Streams the Universe at amazon.
A psychic in the big city, trying to stay sane....
The Violin Maker's Wife at amazon.
Enchanted violins can be deadly....
A girl, her vampire, his demon...
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coming nextI have no idea. Maybe one about aliens I've been thinking about. I'll get back to you.
a few greatest hits
- diggers watch tv, too
- the amazing emu
- flying kids
- remains of the play
- the incredible hulk invades the yurt
- triple chocolate pudding goop, or, this way lies madness
- spike and buffy got screwed--now with proof! (part 1)
- writing without pencil sharpening
- living the tie-dyed life
- bad things come in threes. or fours. (or maybe fives?)
- bikini power vs. the ratty sweater
- the yip-yips do not cause childhood obesity
- butterfly house
- the power of mom’s day can melt even the most bitter of hearts, not that my heart is bitter, but it has gotten a bit crusty around the edges
- going all erin brockovich on your ass
- welcome to mayaland's virtual macabre crawfish feast of death!
- the solstice from inside a sundial
- the 13 year visitation of the demon red-eyed cicada
- 2 stories, 1 joke, and a song
- how to build a yurt (1 of 10)
- "Dusi's Wings" April, 2003. . . . "One thing fantasy can do for us is to give shape to the mysterious in the world; another is to make emotional yearning concrete. The early sections of "Dusi's Wings" do just that...there was a strong grasping towards the spiritual in fantasy here that was very promising, and I look forward to reading more by Lassiter." --review, Tangent Online.
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