I like to eat, and I like to lift weights. Consequently, I have a body that looks like I like to eat, and I like to lift weights.
While I’m trying to step up my cardio and step down my carb intake (damn you, bread; damn you for your bland yet seductive goodness), I’m also looking to increase my flexibility (ladies) and start to explore meditation.
So, I signed up for my first ever yoga class.
I walked into the studio matless and clueless, only to find no soul behind the front desk to receive me, adding to the awkwardness of the experience. After walking aimlessly down an adjacent hallway, a friendly middle-aged lady in apropos yoga pants greeted me and walked me back to the desk.
Continue reading Excerpts From Suburbia : Yoga Class
Alright, so here’s the scene…
Taco Bell drive-thru. 7:43 pm. An overcast early Spring evening.
I’ve pulled up to the little box squawking at me with a clarity somewhere between Morse Code and Russian submarine radio signal, placed my order for a pair of burritos and a Diet Mountain Dew, and pulled forward.
Continue reading Awkward Moments: The Drive-Thru
Let’s first address any confusion that might stem from the title and/or existence of this article. This is not an installment of Shit That Needs to Stop, as I have already addressed the most egregious missteps possible at a Starbucks in a previous post.
No, this is the second installment of the award-winning series Excerpts from Suburbia, and it focuses on the quirks and foibles of, and anecdotes from, local Starbucks locations.
Before we did rage-inducing irritations. Now we do cute idiosyncrasies and stories. Good? Good.
Anyway, without further ado (and I’ve already ado’d the shit out of this), on to Excerpts From Suburbia : Starbucks.
Continue reading Excerpts from Suburbia : Starbucks
The suburbs. It’s the same shit on every corner. If you need anything that’s not a cell phone, fake tan, cup of Starbucks, or burger, you’re probably gonna have to drive a little. And oh yes, you will drive, because mass transit in the suburbs is like tolerance at the Republican National Convention – it might exist, but you’re gonna need a map and good luck to find it.
Being the savvy, cultured, international debutante that I am, it’s not always a comforting experience here in Suburbia; I can get a little restless looking for novelty and excitement. I’ve come to learn, though, that if I pay enough attention, I can still find wonderful and bizarre things.
This week, I spent a couple hours in Panera Bread.
Continue reading Excerpts from Suburbia : Panera Bread
There was actually a beautiful symmetry to it.
In the first year after bringing my cat, Clifford, home from the shelter, I had a pretty substantial knee surgery, one that would leave me in a significant amount of pain and relegated to my couch for four days. I learned in those days how supportive [read : unhealthily attached] Cliff was going to be – twice a day, he would efficiently combine his trips to his food dish, water bowl, and litter box in one loop, and then promptly jump back up next to me on the couch. No looking out the window, no sleeping elsewhere – he was at my side 23.9 hours a day.
Continue reading Feline Nursing and Realizing I’m a Helicopter Parent