10 Minutes a Day

Dear Readers,

I’ve talked here about starting pilates and yoga this year. I am sorry. I hate talking about it kind of?? It is a cliche. I am a cliche. But also I hate talking about my body and fitness and worrying about the assumptions people make. I hate the assumptions people make. I also hate the assumptions I make about the assumptions people make. Regardless I am doing stuff to stave off becoming an immobile husk of myself because I am in my late 40s and it is all coming for us! I am focusing on strength, balance, flexibility. Annoyingly, you can’t just IGNORE THIS STUFF at my age because otherwise you feel crappy all the time? RUDE.

My pilates instructor said we should all be stretching at least 10 minutes a day. OK OK on one hand that is nothing. NOTHING! Like if someone said “you can only do your favorite thing for 10 minutes a day” I would weep (though is my favorite thing drinking a Diet Coke? hanging out with my pets? talking to my friends? the no-brain part of the night where I sit on my sofa and watch old episodes of ER while playing mindless phone games?). But somehow making sure I carve out 10 minutes for stretching every day, well, I have to think about it.

But I am determined!

xoxoAmy

PS No promises if I ever talk about this again. Remember, I HATE TALKING ABOUT THIS STUFF. Also I have ADHD and forget to do things all the time.

I am very much hooked on the teen drama Sterling Point!!!!

The new Womack Sisters s/t record is so good (them and Twin Temple doing a lot of work in the new-music-that-sounds-perfectly-old-timey category I require).

There’s a new What to Cook cookbook out, focused on fast recipes, and I REALLY liked this zucchini skillet that’s like zucchini lasagna with WAY LESS EFFORT.

Another Trader Joe’s hit. My mom gave me these milk chocolate sardines with sea salt for my tinned fish summer! Thank you, Mom, and thank you, Trader Joe’s, for existing!

More Info about Out in Hollywood

I like the song “The Next Ten Minutes” from The Last 5 Years except the beginning/end where Cathy is like, what’s a cloud and who are the Beatles, and Jamie knows everything. When men write things like that do they ever think about it, I wonder.