Got a flier in the

Got a flier in the mail from Roundabout today with the freakiest picture I've seen in quite awhile. I was going to post it, but it seems blogger won't let me upload a file and I now see that Mark's beaten me to it. Did Mr. Secada not get photo approval? Or worse, did he?

Yoga ... done.
Read up on the history of hedge funds ... done.
Knock out a couple chapters of the talking dog book ... done.

There's a party on the patio next door, which from up here on the 9th floor, sounds muy festivo. The latin music is loud and fun, but fat as I feel, I'll be careful not to hang too far over the balcony, lest some of the children there pick up bats and start swinging at me in hopes of busting me open for candy and toys.

All in, 'twas not a bad day. Misread the yoga schedule and got there 90 minutes early. So I took a walk through the village, saw some hot firemen hanging out at a streetfair on Greenwich Ave (would that be an Avenue fair?), and ambled through Washington Square Park. Haven't been there in forever. Thought of Jeanette losing her hands in Willie and Phil. A little chanting, a little stretching and a little meditation later, I was home safe and sound before the thunderstorms came. So this is what it's like to live in Seattle. Quelle dreary.

Looking forward to next weekend's quick hop up to the Provincetown Film Festival, where tickets are bought for Party Monster and Camp. I wish I could go up Thursday night; rumor has it that Die, Mommy, Die is the surprise 2nd feature at the drive-in. Alas, I think I'll be in Atlanta, for what might be my last business trip to that fine city. Gosh, I'd miss the Four Seasons. And Philth and his boys. And the chance to hang with him and his posse.

Not that I'm counting any chickens, let alone looking at eggs that may or may not hatch.