Like an old flame you never wanted to see again...

Whew, it's been awhile. Chalk up my silence here to general busy-ness, listliness, and a sense of, oh, I don't know-what do I say? What is there to write about? So many other people have said it, and said it better, the last thing the world needs is another blogger. Before I get too negative (too late) I have been inspired lately by Dooce. Unless you live in a cave (and if so, well, hello cave person...nice to meet you) you've probably heard of Heather Armstrong. I've been reading her blog for years, laughing with her, at her...and crying with her and her family. Yes, I'm the sort of crazy person who gets caught up in the emotional baggage of people I don't even know, yet I can't seem to place a phone call to my sister if my life depended on it. But I digress. She's recently been featured on well-known morning news shows (the name of which escapes me at the moment) and has been making headlines doing the very thing that I am doing. Writing about life, her family, her struggles, her love of bacon. I know without a doubt, that her blog has touched people, encouraged people, and pissed a lot of people off. I figure, if she can do it, so can I. Not for the success factor (although, to be honest? Getting paid to write would be a dream) but for the fact that if something I've gone through, can help someone else? Then my struggle has been infinitely worth it. My heart finds such peace in that.

I've jumped back on the exercise wagon, because it's been far too long. I need a change, I need to feel healthy again. Sure, losing weight is the ultimate goal, I'm no Queen Latifah and a size satisfied, I have a dream of being Heather at a size 7...but I really do want to have more energy, feel more alert, and take care of this body that I have so graciously been given. A friend burned me a copy of Yoga Booty Ballet (hello, pirating!) I tried it today for the first time and I...just can't do it. I cannot, with a straight-face, get into child's pose and consult my "inner chakra" Want to know what I did when I (finally) manuevered into child's pose? I farted. I think that says enough. Yoga, my booty, and ballet are not a match made in heaven. Onto the next one...

As usual, there's so much more to say, but my day here is picking up again so I shall be going...