I love D for letting me use his apartment in the best neighborhood in Manhattan, it’s been pure joy except for the lack of wi-fi and reliable cell reception grrrrrrr. Anyway. Oh, and also remind me to tell you about the Man in the Newspaper Suit!

Where was I? Oh yes. Trying to keep my fitness regime on vacation. I have managed to go on two runs (in SF and NY — both was a big game of Dodge Em with cars, dawdlers, noxious fumes and dogs.) Also, the walking, especially in NY, has been pretty nonstop. In fact, I think I broke my feet after yesterday’s trek through Brighton Beach, Coney Island, Prospect Park and even more yon — seriously, hours and hours and miles and miles.

I woke up today, sad and achy and creepy. I went for a mile-long “jog” (read: hobble) and ended up at a yoga studio. Oh, blessed yoga. I was still kind of hobbly and creepy today, but it would have been so much worse if I didn’t have some mother-effing vinyasa action. Going again tomorrow.

Yay me! Making time for exercise affords me ability to eat truly massive amounts of food. Hot dogs, gyros, fries, grilled cheese, things in butter sauce, bodega runs for cookies and chips, booze, jeezus I can’t stop. No salad, none. Watch out, tomorrow’s wedding in Harlem! I’m gonna eat you!