Hunk-asana; or Cloudy and Humid with a Chance of Legal Sanctioning

The good thing about a gray and muggy Saturday is that it gives you - or, rather, me - an excuse to sit inside and do nothing.

The intention was to spend the afternoon working on my "novel," which I am considering rebranding as a "novella", or better yet "ten pages of precious, terribly contrived hoo-hah," either of which would be more in keeping with the writing pace I've established for myself. But there are always emails to catch up on, and new episodes of My Super Sweet 16 on the DVR, and computer folders filled with frenziedly downloaded caca to sort through.......and then M. and I needed to go eat delicious ham-cheese-&-pineapple empanadas, and then take a walk, and then get Green Tea Frappucinnos (TM) - which M. correctly identified as tasting a little bit like a delicous and fattening variety of dirt - and then take more walk.......and then before you (I) know it, it's 5pm and you (we) have to leave in half an hour to run downtown for the 6:15 showing of The 40 Year Old Virgin, so really, why bother writing the novella when all you really have time for is an illegally downloaded episode of Weeds?

I did go to 9am yoga this morning, though, although I continue to be plagued by the fact that my 9am yoga teacher is H-O-T-T, and I somehow - somehow - always manage to sit myself right next to him, and before I know it he's demonstrating poses and his feet are on my mat and his firm yoga buttocks are taunting me and his shirt is riding up his taut yoga belly and he's using words like downward dog and cobra and coming over to adjust me and I'm forgetting to breath, let alone lift my mula banda. He is, of course, 110% straight, which relieves me of any guilt, karmic or otherwise. Still, I couldn't help but hope that he saw me - but not the terrified and surprised look on my face - when I did my first ever wall-less hand stand.

The second exciting piece of news, perhaps even more exciting than my hand stand, is my recent discovery that M. and I may be able to Make It Legal after all, as another gayly-wedded blogger (The Malcontent) writes:

After renting bikes, it was off to begin the process of having
an honest man made of me. The first thing that greets you in the town
clerk's office is a prominently displayed sign noting the "impediments" to
marriage. You are duly informed that, if the (sinful) marriage you are
about to enter into is not legal in your state of residence, then you had better
intend to reside in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts. We attested to that
very thing with an entirely straight face. Good thing Eliot Spitzer is on our side (Either way, it seems almost a foregone conclusion that the fact that Mitt Romney decided to start enforcing an arcane residency law once gay people started to marry would indicate that the lawsuit against the state charging discrimination will ultimately prove successful.) There were a number of simple forms to fill
out, and after paying a $30 fee, we walked out of the office prepared to make
our union completely legal four days hence.

So I suppose the lesson to be gleaned from this gray, gray day is that - despite the the fact that they may not enhance one's rapidly fading tan line which one might have been proudly cultivating this summer - gray days can also be good days.