I just ambled home from my first pottery class since junior year of college, and I’m muddy and triumphant. I made three bowls (two of them are all right!), and I’m in the class with one other student, a freshman at Willowbrook High School. So there’s a lot of hands-on help to recreate scenes from Ghost.

This morning, I was so tired. I could barely drag myself out of bed. I skipped my morning exercise and was in a crappy mood all day long. (Disclaimer: It might be because a particular student is trying to just hang out in my classroom during my lunch. It’s the only time I have to myself from 8:33 a.m. to 2:17 p.m., and I need to recharge. It doesn’t help that this guy has said, “”I think I wanna do my problem/solution TED Talk on how women are really over-blowing this whole feminist thing. Did you know that some of them don’t shave their armpits? And what are they complaining about anyway? We gave them the right to vote, like, 80 years ago.” ) I almost talked myself into skipping yoga class after school, since I had the pottery class later in the evening and I wouldn’t want to be overexerting myself, now would I? But I cajoled myself into going, and it gave me more energy. I’m more energetic now than I have been all day. It seems counter-intuitive, but the more active I am, the more energy I have. As soon as I get going, I’m a perpetual motion machine.

And now that I’m going on the no-sugar crusade, I’ve built up some momentum, and I feel unstoppable. Or at least, less stoppable. Over the weekend, Aunt Marilyn visited, and Steve and I took her out to one of our favorite eateries: Davanti. There, they have one of my all-time favorite desserts in the world: the brown butter blondie. It tastes like nailing the high notes in “Bohemian Rhapsody.” With caramel.

I urged them to order it so Aunt Marilyn could try it, and they did. It came out, warm and perfect, and I hid my nose behind my mint tea so that I wouldn’t be able to catch its alluring perfume. And I was fine. It was less of a big deal than I thought it would be.

Now, if only I could rein in the new addiction…apples with gobs of peanut butter…mmmm