Vironga

Reminiscent of our time in Chicago, last week's snow is still on the ground and a double hit of more white stuff is heading our way. Tonight, my walk back to the car after yoga felt downright balmy, indeed, the ambient temperature had risen to a sweltering 33, giving a slight sweat to the puddle frozen precariously beneath my car door. Given the, apparently, unending winter and a nagging feeling of there's nothing better to do, my cabin fever has translated into an intense focus on myself and my fitness.

Last night it was spinning with a friend, tonight, yoga, after which I stopped by the Rittenhouse Deli for a six-pack of MGD 64, the lowest calorie beer currently on the market. (If there's one thing I'm not, it's a Beer Snob. If it's light, cold and carbonated, I'm happy.) Well, I must be doing something right because, for the first time since moving to Philadelphia, I was asked to show ID in order to buy my ultra-light beer. Maybe it was because their usual female customers have more facial hair than ZZ Top and wouldn't be caught dead drinking anything but a lukewarm forty, but I'd like to think it has something to do with my hard work and subsequent youthful glow of late.

Cheers!