I am thinking that if I can just make it through to, let's say, August 25th, all things should be more or less settled, or at least there will be significantly less motion and the dust will start settling.
And my heart stops.
Two nights ago I sat on the couch and cried until I'd saturated the front of my dress with some seriously healthy snot. That stopped abruptly when I realized there wasn't any sort of adult beverage in the house. At all. At 7:52 PM. In Connecticut. Are you hearing this, people? Let me clarify a little more, in Weston, Connecticut. I suppose I could have driven to Norwalk and gotten there well before 9 but the story wouldn't have been as good.
I left my shoes in front of the couch.
At 7:59:5999999999999 I stood shoeless, stockingless (it's after May 1 and I finally found my razor), mascara free, and a little bit snotty, toe to toe with the prematurely locked door of Peter's Spirit Shop. I put my right hand up, palm down and let it slide, slo-mo back toward the sidewalk. I whined. Like a dog.
The man laughed, pointed to his nonexistent watch, and walked away.
Periodically (hush), I am shameless.
I dropped my little Cole Haan wristlet at my grubby, bare feet, clasped my hands in prayer position, and closed my eyes. I wanted to practice my new weird alternate breathing but that's weird and it would look weird and weird is off-putting so I didn't do that. I did some normal sort of pranayama breathing which looks, well, normal, and winsome. Yeah, you heard me, I used that word. Winsome. Inasmuch as a 54 year old, snot nosed woman in Black Corporate by Talbots with grubby bare feet can possibly be winsome.
The door opened.
You aren't going away, are you?
I neglected to insure that there were an appropriate number of adult beverages in the house for the week before I began the week.
That means you failed to come in here at all last week, is that what you're telling me? You did the grocery shopping, you picked up the cleaning, you probably even fed the kid, but you didn't come to see me.
That's not true.
You were here? What? You drank it all?
No. I mean I didn't go grocery shopping OR feed the kid.
Then what the hell did you do?
Swear to god. Yoga Hiking.
Ha! You think I can't but I can and not only can I but I will and they're even REALLY BAD PICTURES BUT I WILL BECAUSE I CAN STILL DO THIS SHIT AND IT'S BEEN OVER A YEAR. Will you let me in if I show you the bad pictures?
Technically, no, because I'm closed but what do you want and how bad are the pictures?
Bad. Really bad. I look ridiculous, but posture wise I look good, I mean my companions are MAKING ME LOOK GREAT and I'm being kind of bitchy, sorry. Can I have a Josh?
You can have a white label Josh on me, pull around back and have those pics out.
I traded my dignity for a bottle of the 2015 Josh Cab which will make it three days before turning which is exactly how long it will take me to drink it. I could go a little faster but I should not.
So, a word about this, OK? Don't put a Bikram yogini in a Vinyasa class without warning. Everybody. Warn everybody. To be reasonable, I did communicate the following when asked: Yes, I have been to a yoga class. I have practiced Bikram since January, 2009 although I have not been in a studio for well over a year.
One student: you've been practicing for a year, that's great!
No, I said I have not been in a studio for a year. I have been practicing for nine years.
How can you be out of a studio for a year?
I've done it before.
And you went back.
Was it a problem?
Not at all.
You mean you just got right back into it?
Well, I had no core and therefore some balance issues but muscle memory is muscle memory and your mind does not forget a sequence like that if you've done it, oh, I don't know, 12 or 1400 times?
12 or 1400 times?!
Yeah, I think so. It's a range but it's my best guess. But listen, don't hold me to anything, ok? I'm pretty sure my core is shot. I've done nothing for or with it in over a year. I walk, I hike, I run when no one is looking and my knees aren't paying attention but none of that does a damn thing for my core. The rest of my body is strong as hell though so the hiking part? I'm good there.
Student to instructor: Is she going to hold us back (jesus christ! and namaste to you too!)?!
Teacher to me: I'm just going to go with the class flow and I expect you can modify given where and with whom you've been practicing, does that sound right?
Yup. I'll be fine and I'll situate myself so I can see you, don't worry. I won't do anything I shouldn't and I'll try very hard not to Bikramize the Vinyasa postures.
...pause...breath...I actually really appreciate the mindfulness. Thank you, we all benefit from the harmony.
So scroll back up to the first shot. The instructor is on the left. Totally at ease. Florkow and Cielo, I think her freaking knees might be bent, like on purpose. I don't know. The woman to my left is a close approximation except she chose the alternative which is to leave your hands open. This is anathema to me so I can't even contemplate it. I struggle with the finger business and finally let that index finger fly. Shit, I think, they can't see it anyway, forgetting about the fifth out there with the camera.
It's a T for Thomas, not an L for Linda:
Balancing Stick: Tuladandasana is held for ten seconds, once on each leg and repeat. You begin at the back of your mat with your arms above your head, touching your ears, hands clasped, index fingers out. You take one three foot step forward on your standing leg and you go down, your standing knee locks and the other leg comes up and you are a T for Thomas for ten seconds and your core holds you in place. Your head remains between your arms. We hate it. We all hate it. We do it anyway. I gave them fair warning. I can do this but I'm pretty sure I can't hold it. And by do it, I mean I can really do it. For about two seconds. I got four. Twice. That's not my blond head. You can't see my head. My head is where it's supposed to be. My leg is where it's supposed to be. Took me a while to find my foot because my purple trail shoe turned black in the shadow. I have never seen a photograph of me in this posture before. I was astonished. And then I wanted to walk around and push my right hip down because I know damn well it was up.
I was better behaved for the most part. I modified everything else to the best of my ability and even though Downward Dog makes me wonder what the hell I'm doing, there's nothing quite like Laughing Baby in a big open public field to put things in perspective. There will be no Laughing Baby photographs.
If nothing else, it got me a bottle of 2015 Josh. At 7:59:5999999999.