It's gonna be a 4-cup o' joe kinda day

Work.

Work.

Work.

Ever since the 2nd week in January I haven't stopped to come up for air.

I work early in the morning.

I work through lunch.

I work through dinner.

I worth through re-runs of SATC on E!

BUTT, BUT, I continue to WORK on PROJECT RYAN.

Week 3 of hard core gym and yoga visits. 

And frequent stops at Subway.

I probably haven't shed a pound, but I feel a little better about walking into that sweat-infested Barbie and Ken Shop.

In other news . . .

 

Don't get your panties all in a wad, but I'm in the midst of drafting a post about the most horrific YOGA experience ever.  

I practiced yoga for the first time a year ago this month.

It was gawd-awful.

I thought I was going to die in the middle of class.

Either that or melt.

I didn't realize that a heated yoga room meant that you were exposed to the same temperatures you would be in the bellows of hell's kitchen.

I also blogged (ever so eloquently) about this first yoga experience.  

A year ago.

On my old blog.

Which I accidentally deleted from the infinite internet universe.

Never to be found again.

Yeah, I'm that moron who had a blog for a while and deleted it.

I was that girl in high school you sat next too wondering how she made it that far in life.

Ahh, but I am more book smart then street smart.

And blogging is like being street smart.  

And tech smart.

I lack those genes.

Any way, back to the topic about the next posting surrounding my most yoga class.

You'll piss your panties.

I almost did. 

And not in the way you think.

Piqued your interest?

Maybe just a little?