Also: I wish to know how to do yoga right, and I don't want to hear any of that hippie bologna about how there's no right way

I was telling Duse this morning--before my phone died, and may I just say, for the millionth time, I HATE MY PHONE AND EVERYTHING IT STANDS FOR IT IS THE WORST I CAN'T WAIT FOR JULY AND MY UPGRADE--that I like a lot of things about yoga: I like that it slows me down and stretches me out and makes me think about being nothing more than a grain of sand (TM Jack Black Version of Paul McCartney).

But one of my frustrations with yoga is that the instructors often talk about the impact on certain internal organs. "Breathe in the bottom half of your lungs" or "Can you feel that in your liver?" Answer: no, I can't, because I don't know where half of that garbage resides in my body. I'm sort of confident I know where the lungs are. Uh, the heart is below or around them probably? The rest is just assorted glop. I picture it being kept in a plastic bag like the giblets in a turkey.

Exhibit A:

Be careful when you remove my water on the knee; BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT!

I was not a very attentive student in science classes... is what I'm trying to say. Also, I got a C+ in Human Sexual Biology, so you probably shouldn't ask me (or Coach Cutlip) (does anyone remember that Wonder Years episode?) to draw the female reproductive system.

I'm not saying that the instructor should adjust her questions to more directly address my concept of my body, e.g. "Do you feel this in your butts?" Just hope she gets used to my puzzled expression any time I'm supposed to check in with my appendix or vestigial tail.

Tonight I'm doing the boxing challenge at LadyGym. Can't wait for that. That's more my speed (punch kick HADOUKEN hee hee).

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Catt took fancy pictures of me when we were on our way back from eating delicious, delicious fried chicken at Stanley's Kitchen and Tap--side note: ooh, BBQ Wednesdays!--because we finally found horses that don't scare me because they can't bite or kick:

On a steel horse I ride/I'm wanted/wanted! (and yes I know Bon Jovi is referring to a tour bus; don't argue semantics)

I'm wearing a top that Duse handed-me-down with a hot pink Loft tank underneath. I wish you could see the super cute Lia Sophia necklace I'm wearing. For reference, it's the one in this Pinterest collage:

Source: bling-angel.polyvore.com via Erin Rippy - on Pinterest

But personally I like the black and white photo more because you can see my kinda-bicep muscle:

I'm strong to the finish, 'cause I eats me spinach

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My friend Jill shared this CORE Salsa Meatloaf recipe earlier this week, and because I had a pound of ground turkey in the fridge, I made a quick produce market run and pulled it together Monday night. I do not share the reservations of the blogger about putting delicious salsa on top of meat and baking it, and it turned out great. The zucchini and thyme in particular really give the turkey a flavor boost, and it is great to have something handy for lunches all week.

I also made Catt's Not Written Down Anywhere Spinach, Mushroom, Egg, and Toast breakfast. It's sort of labor-intensive for my morning routine, but it's so wonderful and--argh, sorry, I normally hate this adjective but--earthy. Plus, as an added bonus, I can get a substantial vegetable and protein. It goes like this:

1) Saute a handful of mushrooms (I usually use baby bellas)
2) When they're starting to look like they're mostly tender, throw in a couple handfuls of baby spinach leaves
3) Put a cover on it and wilt until wilty
4) Make an over-easy egg and toast a piece of toast
5) Assemble
6) Eat

Kate shared that she does a similar thing only with avocado mash in place of spinach. Anyone else have a favorite buncha-stuff-on-toast recipes?