Over the past year or so, Boz has made a hobby out of taking well-known songs of various genre and workshopping the lyrics until they focus on Pancho, me, or Texas. The 'me' and 'Texas' categories generally include things I enjoy in or about Texas (eg. I can't think of anything else I enjoy at the moment).  It's like 120 degrees here right now. I have been rendered incapable of conjuring appreciation for anything. Let's circle back to this in late October.

Anyway, rather than plow through further explanation, I will provide several illustrations of this lyrical exercise:

1. "Texas Tornado" by Tracy Lawrence has become "Texas Tomato" (<in reverance to the many juicy little tomatoes I have brought home from the farm).

2. "With or Without You" by U2 has become "With or Without Food" (<sung each time either one of us takes medication or vitamins).

3. "Viva Las Vegas" by Elvis Presley has become "Migas!!! Las Vegas" (<sung at random...but definitely every time we see or eat migas, a Texas staple).

and...most importantly...

4. "Who Let the Dogs Out" by Baha Men has become "Who Lets the Dog Out" and we sing this EVERY.SINGLE.NIGHT when it's time to let Pancho out for his final bathroom break of the evening. No exaggeration. Every night.

And right after we finish the song, Boz says "me"...and proceeds to take Pancho on his last bathroom break while I get in bed and read until he returns. (Again, it's hot here...and I don't like to get warm before bedtime. And, also, I'm a giant,spoiled pain-in-the-ass.)

I realize workshopping lyrics may not come naturally to everyone...but if y'all have any inkling towards songwriting whatsoever, I highly suggest running with this. It's practically therapeutic. Case in point: I am in yoga teacher training right now and I hate every single second of it. It's super social and engaging...but I like to spend 90% of my day in total isolation and silence (<excluding farm-animal company/noises and Pancho). Yoga school is really, really rough on my mental stability. However, after dinner every evening, Boz breaks into workshopped-song lyrics and I can't help but laugh and then I feel like I might...just *might* able to power through another day of yoga training.

Also, I have been continually reminding myself that people have made it through war, exile, leukemia, and other yoga schools. I'll probably be ok. But feel free to pray for me. I'll be seriously struggling until like 4pm on August 2nd (and then training will be complete and and we'll be heading to Beaver Creek, CO for a little vacation and I'll be brainstorming ways to redeem myself for acting like yoga school was the apocalypse.)

And now for three unrelated and excessively long postscripts:

ps. #1: B and I recently spent a few days fishing in Canada with our family. Boz spent his childhood vacations in Canada and was super stoked to introduce me to Totem Lodge on a vaction in July 2013. I loved it then (, ya know...pre-stability ;)) but I am officially head-over-heels for it after this 2015 trip. I need to do an entire post on Canada so I'll just toss up a few pictures as a placeholder for the moment:

If he were wearing cowboy boots in this pic, it would be one of my faves.

I ran every morning of our vacation. This was my view upon leaving the cabin. I mean...come on.

This is just good for the soul.

ps #2:  How have I not told y'all about the farm?? I haven't, right?? Weird. I suppose I've just seen many of you in person and we've chatted about it face-to-face...but it's still really weird that I haven't mentioned it in this makeshift journal o' mine. Farming has changed my life. Farm post to come very soon...

ps #3: In case you're wondering, there is a song in the lab at this very moment. It's "Rehab" by Amy Winehouse. Bob and I saw Amy last Sunday and it got the wheels turning. Is there a better way to honor such a brilliant, troubled soul than by re-working her masterpiece into a goofy rendition and singing it at the top of our lungs a few times a week? No. There is not.

And that's all I got.

Peace in the Middle East, my friends.