I'm #1

Housekeeping first: one very important thing I forgot to say about Mike, which LA pointed out, is that he's a total babe. That's how much I take it for granted. I think anyone who's seen him takes it for granted too which I guess is why I didn't manage to make a big deal about it. He can't help that he was born looking the way he does, but he does have control over being an upstanding person so that's more noteworthy. Anyway though, as I stated, he reminds me all the time that he thinks I'm pretty to his eyes, and it could not hurt for me to do the same for him. Who doesn't appreciate hearing that they're attractive? And though I think it all the time, he can't read my thoughts. Or can he by now? Eek.

I'm on top of a huge inspiration bubble after hearing my author/poet cousin read some of his poems on the radio the other night and talking to him last night about his manuscript. It was so fun to talk about writing like that, especially with somebody so talented. To put a selfish slant on it, it helped me see how getting good work done is possible and not only that, it got me reinvigorated about my love of writing and made me want to make writing dates with myself and stick to them. Also, to not abandon my current WIP which was my instinct. So thanks, cousin! No more excuses. Let's do this.

When I feel excited about the process like this, it inevitably opens my mind to all my other dream projects like writing a screenplay and/or a TV comedy (fine, I just want to be Liz Lemon). And songs. I heard Meatloaf's "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad" yesterday (bear with me)--  and I couldn't stop thinking about the genius in its construction. It's one of those songs, like "Escape (The Pina Colada Song)" and "Brandy (You're a Fine Girl)" that seem to belong to the 1970s, mostly. These songs that tell a story, often ending in the same place it began but with a new perspective. If I had to think of a current song that accomplishes this, maybe it's Carrie Underwood's "Before He Cheats"? Anyway, the perfect pop song is a singular piece of artistry. I'd give up all the other talents if I could master this one. But first things first eh?

In other news, I'm feeling quite fit these days and I'll tell you why. Back when I was the only body I had to worry about, I used to take this killer class at the gym called Punk Rope. It was super fun, but it also kicked my ass. I loved it. Jumping rope is a great workout. So I bought a jump rope and I've been doing mini sessions every time I take a pump break. So I get in 200 jumps, push-ups and crunches three times a day. It doesn't take up that much extra time, and it really adds up, workout-wise. Until I can get back to regular running and yoga, the jump rope is my fitness secret weapon. I highly recommend it. But I will issue a warning to my lady friends (this is going to be TMI and probably shatter your image of me as a person you want to be around so look away if you're offended by bodily functions): jumping rope makes you pee. It's uncontrollable. It was true before, and it's double true now that my urethra has been messed with. So just, er, take precautions. The payoff is worth a little leakage.

And with that, I leave you for today.