Oooh... pretty colors...

First, I would like to say how surprised I am to find out that I'm not alone in my heresy. Everyone made me feel much better about (what I felt) was speaking against popular opinion. You guys ROCK!

I've been talking about how much I've been spinning. I mentioned how I'm a mad scientist with a need for bright colors.

I present, the fruits of my labors:

I love how cheerful it is. There will be purple in the rainbow, but my attempt at purple failed. See:

Not quite purple enough to fit the rest of my theme. I'm not saying that I don't like it; it just isn't the right purple for my day-glo rainbow.

I had a couple of things in my stash that fit the need for "bright and cheerful" while I was dyeing up my 1980s childhood masterpiece.

First was "I Feel Free" from Crown Mountain Farms:

It's not a color I would normally pick for myself, but I think this is going to grow up to be a pair of Mad Color Weave Socks.

I'm finding myself drawn to the more monochromatic roving in my stash, which is unusual for me. I'm a high-contrast, multi-colored kind of girl. It seems that I like to knit plain, monochromatic yarns rather than the stuff that really appeals to me as a spinner. It's a process of finding a happy medium.

Flattery will get you EVERYWHERE

When I get a few spare minutes, I read blogs. Imagine my surprise when I read Lisa's post about her trip (a while back) to the Asian Art Museum in SF. I was pleasantly surprised to have embodied one/some of the wrathful deities in this picture:

(Picture courtesy of Gretchdragon)

If you go through and read the bit about the wrathful deities, maybe she's not so far off.

But you know what they say: Looks can be deceiving... or can they?

I am BACK!

I'll be honest. This insomnia thing had really thrown me off my game. So, off to Dr. B I went, and the conversation went something like this:

Dr. B: I'm going to suggest something. You're not going to like it.

Me: Ok, what? (<- Desperate for a solution)

Dr. B: Exercise.

Me: Oh, I did that in high school.

Evidently, working out is not like an innoculation, where you do it, with some boosters, and you're good until the end of your natural life. (Or a stronger strain. But I digress.) But, Dr. B is a professional, and as his suggestions have proven more than helpful historically, I listened.

I came home, and did a half hour of yoga. Then, I slept for seven hours. I woke up, feeling much more human, and continued my day as normal. Except for the soreness. The one thing that I vividly remember from my yoga sessions with Katie is the insane stiffness and soreness.

Despite the soreness, I felt better. Stronger.

Tonight, I went to the Saratoga Drama Group's production of Man of La Mancha. Walter, the lead, is one of the most commanding baritones that I have had the good fortune to see perform. Attending live performances gives me a high that you can't even imagine. I was practically vibrating afterwards.

When I got home, it was Yoga Time. I outdid last night's agonizing 30 minutes by an extra five, working on the yoga until the soreness stopped. It was like a rubber band snapping. One minute, I was stretching out the sore hamstrings and hoping for a swift, yoga-induced death, and the next,
it felt GOOD.

I stretched harder. I held poses longer. I breathed deeper. I felt ALIVE. And then I almost threw up. (I didn't.)

After I did my cool-down, I had some water, and was being reflective. When did I become this lazy lump of a person? Sitting all the time. Not moving. Indolent. It's disgusting. I used to be so physically active! I did all sorts of physical activities, and I worked out at the gym. Now, just walking the stairs?

I realized, that I could be developing the dreaded office butt. Office butt! Unacceptable.

I told Mike - the work husband - that we will be working out. Every day. No more leisurely, cheese-filled lunches. Lunch at my desk, an hour at the gym.

Look out world. I have returned with a VENGEANCE.

It's a system.

I would like to announce that I am not the only person who shops like I do. Norma, too, can "pull a Jasmin".

I don't need validation, but.

Neener neener. And, suck it, Trebek.