Me on not-decaf and some yoga thoughts.

HEY IT'S MONDAY, AND THAT DEFINITELY WASN'T DECAF!! Also, I went to yoga this morning, and did about 75% of what the teacher requested we do. I can't do 100% because of my weird back-issues ever since my first pregnancy, and also because I am stubborn and even in yoga, YOU CAN'T TELL ME WHAT TO DO! No, but seriously, it was a lovely yoga class.

The only part I can't stand is when you get off your mat in the beginning and go introduce yourself to a stranger. That gives me insane anxiety. For some reason it's only when I'm in the studio, mat rolled out and getting in the zone. Introductions before or after, small-talk while putting my shoes in a cubby or rolling up my mat -- that's fine, and I actually like the community aspect of the yoga studio. I've made lots of new friends. But I really dislike making a new friend while I'm trying to get in the no-one-is-touching-me-for-75-minutes mood. Because that's my favorite thing about yoga: being alone for an hour. No one is grabbing my nipples or telling me they are hungry. It's pretty much magic.

My PledgeMusic campaign is going really well. I'm planning on closing the project in a few days and mailing out all the pre-orders next week (assuming I hit my 100% goal!), so if you'd like to receive your copy of my new CD this week instead of having to wait until Headliners on July 28, then please get your pledge in today. Seriously -- it's a huge relief to get the production-funding out of the way, particularly on an indie-artist who does EVERYTHING herself. The other benefit to pledging -- even if it's just a download because you sold your CD collection to Better Days last summer -- is that you get to see behind-the-scenes updates on how an indie-artist like me does it. This morning I posted a behind-the-scenes video of me packing and going to radio interview.

Last week's alone time was a visit to the DryBar Louisville, where my friend Carrie talked me into getting a blowout on a random rainy Friday afternoon. We sipped champagne (BYOB), niblled croissants, and again -- no one grabbed our nipples or asked for a snack. It was fab.

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