As many of you know by now, I am a woman of extremes. One day I’m letting it go, and the next, today, I’m reining it in. What is up with my karma, Gorgeouses? I have some major, major karma to deal with. I mean, obviously, it could be worse — like, Oedipus (dude had some bad Karma), Anne Boleyn or George Costanza…. But this is definitely a karmic situation. And I’m not talking this Situation, for the record….

Looove. Seriously. Not in a Clive Owen kind of way.

I just struggle. I really struggle with the day-to-day stuff. My problem is that I just want to do whatever I want. Period. I struggle between my intense desire to do whatever I want and my severe desire to live an ideal life. I get completely overwhelmed by the idea that there may be a balance between these two extremes — freedom and restriction — but, I know, there is freedom in restriction, and that there is so, so much restriction in, erm, gluttony….

Woahh, this is getting to heady for us.

Take my puppy Betty White, for example. She knows exactly what she wants or needs to do. She’s perfect at it if you think about it — running in the yard, eating when she’s hungry, attacking me with kisses while I’m driving…. She’s definitely one of my idols when it comes to my karmic situation. Not this Situation, for the record….

Looove. Seriously. Not in a Javier Bardem kind of way.

Before we continue our very important conversation here, can we talk about Mr. Bardem’s serious hotness in Eat, Pray, Love for a second? Omigosh, SWOON. Hold on a sec, here….

Paaaaaaauuuuuse………

Sure, I’m one lucky woman. Not as lucky as Julia Roberts, who got to spoon Javier Bardem….

But she did it. Or, her character, Elizabeth Gilbert did it, or at least wrote the book about it. Elizabeth Gilbert — the same woman who reminds me that no woman, none of us, really knows what she’s doing these days. We have oodles of choices, and, having no oodles-of-choices predecessors, we struggle with what to do with these oodles. Here, let her say it herself….

No wonder, amid a sea of Eat, Pray, Love haters (I know you’re out there), I love Elizabeth Gilbert. She and I are, like, the same person: neurotic and struggling among the extremes of pleasure, restriction and relationships, and we are a wee bit obsessed with yoga, writing and eating. Fast forward to the last few minutes of the video….

Oh, heady again.

…When all I meant to write about was Betty White at the dinner table….

(Underbite.) She’s out of control!

(Tongue. Also chili.)

And he! He stole my favourite lip gloss!

(Bottom-teeth gap.)

And this. Between me and my macbook….

(Withkerth.) — You have to say that one out loud to understand it.

Out of control. Or, in Canadian speak, OOT of control. I’m starting to talk like that, Gorgeouses. For real life, eh? (“For real life” is actually Monkey speak for “For real” — FYI.)

Sighh. Anyway, I think I’m going on a diet (ish). And I’m doing Ashtanga yoga again — an hour or so every day but Saturdays and moon days.  Because it’s one or the other for me. I just feel like there’s freedom in it. In not having to choose all the time…. Dammit.

One day I’ll write the book on my karmic roller-coaster journey among extremes. And I’ll call it Dogs at the Dinner Table. It has a ring to it, right? On the cover, a picture of me and Betty White in downward-facing dog pose…. You can read it on your Kobos (my latest obsession. see twitter).

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