So, this is how I spent my afternoon before the kids came home from school. I hung drapes, using my power drill, a level, a studfinder and spackle. I’m proud of my handiwork. I also hung the photos pictured. There are six others hung around the room by the same photographer, all hung by me.
Of course, my work is completely unappreciated by “anyone” other than the workmen who come to the house and ask me how come I don’t worry about ruining my manicure like all the other ladies in town. I don’t want to show them my nails, hideous as they are. Instead, I just laugh it off.
Speaking of DIY, my backbends are now an official work in progress. I don’t think I have ever worked this hard in Ashtanga. Every freakin’ updog is a project. But the results are tangible. I can’t believe I ignored my updogs for so long, my shoulders shrugged up around my jawbone, the pinchy feeling pervasive in my lower back. Well, better late than never.
And Carl, I am not sure if you were making a short-joke with those comments about the phone books. If so, here’s a big Bronx cheer for you: phhhbbbbbbbbbhhhhhhtttttt.