I love it when my friends breed. Less work for me what with populating the planet being a biological imperative and whatnot. When my friends breed, it’s lovely. And when my lovely friends breed, it tends to turn out to be someone as beautiful as this:Tho it could be argued that all my friends are lovely, like attracts like after all. But how joyous for me to have loved ones willing to go the extra mile and create new friends for me to play with, help to learn hulahooping and educate on the merits of being able to create the superawesomeness that is banana bread french toast. Yes, it’s a difficult existence being superfun extraordinarily eccentric auntie type, but I do it out of love.
And crikey, someone should have warned me about the dangers of ashtanga yoga. First, I thought it was ashtango (it’s a sign from the gods who approve of strappy heels and close quarter embraces while moving gracefully!) and then I didn’t expect it to be so damnably vigorous, what with the quick paced asanas and ujai breathing and such. Of course I’m going back since I signed up for at least a week, but if I’m not careful I might find myself getting healthy!
Balance darlings. That’s all I desire. Perhaps the occasional foot massage. With chocolate. Nothing too extravagant.
And I need a haircut. That is all.