The other day I realized, not for the first time, how sadly deficient I am in Russian and French lit. So measures are being taken (but I won't say by whom - maybe I'm getting spankins from some hot Russian lit professor!). In real life, no spankins. Just my library card and some late nights with a couple of fellas named Tolstoy and Dostoevsky (is that how you spell it?). I still have a bad taste in my mouth from Madame Bovary, so the French will have to just wait for my good opinion. Plus I have to do some research to uncover which novels are considered the greats in the French canon of literature.

This is a glamorous life, but hey! It all starts when I shake up my reading list! I'm proud of myself for trying new (to-me) writers instead of reading the same books over and over again. Maybe I used to do that...

Oh, also, fuck medical advice! I'm doin' the yoga! I figure since they didn't find a hiatal hernia with the barium swallow, then I don't have one (several medical articles advised that that is the only way to find a hiatal hernia). So there's no reason to continue abstaining. I'm stretching and posing, my friends. The stress relief will only do my alleged ulcers good!