workin' hard or hardly workin'?

That is for me to know and you probably never to find out, unless I ever finish The Thing, in which case I will use this as my author photo. Because my feet don't look too heinous in it -- I actually got a pedicure last week at Excellent Nails by Trang. But those sweatpants are hiding some frighteningly pale legs. When I sat down in the massage chair for my pedi, Trang pointed at my legs and said, "You no tan!" and then laughed hysterically while she ran the foot bath. I considered getting back at her by stealing the huge cinnamon-crumble-topped muffin from the shrine to Buddha that sat on the floor, but decided Buddha should not have to suffer for Trang's cruel sense of humor.

By the way, did you know Buddha is a smoker? In addition to incense and a massive muffin, he'd been offered several cigarettes. If I had a household shrine, I would offer Buddha a slice of peanut butter toast, a glass of pink wine, and a laptop, and all I would ask in exchange is that he smite Trang and finish writing this stupid novel.

is it my karma that's stopping me from touching my toes?

I was sitting on my yoga mat yesterday waiting for class to start when a woman who appeared to be older than time walked into the studio. Using a cane.

My first thought? Finally, someone who'll be worse at yoga than I am. Because, as you know, yoga is a competitive sport. That I am very, very bad at. But that I really, really love.

I should have known I was in trouble when she left the cane in the dressing room and came out dressed in a matching pajama top and bottom that appeared to have been purchased at JC Penney's in 1964. I should have rolled up my mat and gone home when I saw her GOLD TOENAIL POLISH. But she was coughing like she had the swine flu, so I thought I had a chance. To, you know, beat her at yoga.

Let's just say that I thought wrong. It turns out that the woman is NINETY YEARS OLD (she told us all after class), and much better at yoga than I am. Not that it's a competition.