::Tap, Tap, Tap:: Is This Thing On?

Oh!  Hi there wee lil' blog!  Long time no see.  What have I been doing with myself other than not blogging?  Oh, and not reading?  Because I have not been reading.  Much.  Small snatches here and there.  Sigh.

I get like this every once in a while where it's not the book's fault.  I've got oodles of what I know will be great books waiting for me.  I just can't be bothered to, you know, read.  Usually what ends up happening is I force myself to sit down, read something, and it knocks my socks off thereby reminding me that "Oh, hey! Reading is cool!"  In the meantime what is going on around here besides the normal work + home merry-go-round?

Justified is back on TV for it's final season.  Let's bask in the glow of that for just a moment.

While everybody else in my small corner of Romancelandia seems either obsessed with Outlander or Downton Abbey I'm obsessed with.....a cowboy.  A US Marshal who tends to shoot first and ask questions later.  How typical Wendy.  How typical.

Besides Justified, work, and not reading there is also.....yoga.  I joined a yoga studio back in October and except for a recent two-week stretch where I had the Head Cold From Hell, I've been going three times a week.  So how is yoga going?

You would think after four months I would be, you know, getting better at it.  Instead?  I'm the chick in class you gets the "participation ribbon."  Yes, I'm that bad.  I have a yoga instructor on Thursday nights who, despite probably being the Marquis De Sade in a former life, will occasionally offer me encouragement when I don't fall flat on  my face.  When he says, "Good job Wendy!" or "You've got it Wendy!"  I imagine him thinking, "Oh Wendy has come to my class again.  She sure does try hard, poor thing."

I mean, really - shouldn't exercise, after a while, get easier?  Yoga is a cruel mistress.  She literally kicks my butt back to last Tuesday.  But I do sleep great afterward.  Which would be why My Man twisted my arm to take it up (he's actually the one who found the studio for me).  I was sleeping....not so good.  After last night's torture session with the Marquis De Sade of yoga instructors?

Like a baby.  You know, if you spiked the baby's bottle with bourbon and Xanax.  In the meantime I'm going to try to not think about the woman in class who was bigger than I am and was able to do head stands.  I am literally, good at nothing.

So what's going on with everybody?  Any torturous exercise stories to make me feel better about my complete and total lack of grace?  Read any good books lately?