Woo woo! Bing! Bing! Bing!


Done and done.

Today I finished my 30th yoga class.  Yay.  The other thing I finished was my 50,000 words for National Novel Writing Month!

The yoga challenge was kind of not much of anything.  I did improve my standing bow (thanks to the suggestions of several helpful yogis).  I need to work on separate leg head to knee now...

The thing I'm really excited about is the writing.  It isn't a good novel, it hasn't been edited at all and I'm pretty sure that it has a bunch of circles in the plot, but I've barfed it all out.


The Dud

This is for Hannah, inspired by this post.

After I got divorced, I took my sweet time about dating again. I went out here and there, even dated some guys with some consistency, but nothing that was meaningful. I wasn't looking.

After a lot of time had passed and I had done my due soulsearching-WTF-was-I-thinking-theraputic diligence, I decided it was time to give the male population another go. I started talking to the guys I saw regularly on my hikes at Runyon Canyon, I talked to men at parties, and I told everyone I was looking to date.

I was going out quite a bit, but nothing was clicking. Then someone at work set me up with a guy who worked in one of our other offices. We'll call him Todd.

Todd and I had had some minor interaction, but that was it. He was quite good looking and didn't seem to be a total drooler. How wrong I was...

We met downtown, near the corporate apartment where he was temporarily living, for dinner. We went to The Palm because it was in walking distance and he really loved it. I'm not so much a fan, but whatever.

We sat down to dinner and started the requisite chatter. I asked where he went to college and that was it. He pulled the cord on his motormouth and away we went...down memory lane. I heard about his frat brothers and all the "crazy shit" they "pulled all the time."

I heard about the secret car relocation cliche. I heard about the "awesome" practical joke where they filled the chair of Women's Studies office with blow-up dolls, and how they took all of the furniture of an entire floor of one of the buildings and stuffed it into a lecture hall and glued the door shut. It was scintillating.

By the end of dinner, I had uttered under 50 words, more than half of which were, "oooh." I knew we had no future, but I was still going to bed with him because I hadn't had sex for a while and he seemed like he would be good in bed. Wrong again.

We walked back to his apartment. Before we got all the way in the door, he kissed me. I should have known by the kiss to leave then and there, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Todd couldn't find an erogenous zone with a GPS and full-color pictures. And he was a neck-licker. Why? I don't want spit on my neck just for the sake of having there.

I knew it was a lost cause for me, but I figured I'd let him finish up. Only he was taking forever. I would take part of the responsibility, but I'm sure he wasn't paying any attention to me. So I finally had to put a stop to it because it was getting painful.

I tried to be nice about it. I even offered to finish the task in an alternate way, but he didn't seem to take me seriously and I finally had to say the words "get off me."  That's a bad night for everyone.

I left angry and disgusted. The next day at work he'd left a rose and a note that said, "call me if you change your mind." I was livid. He didn't even have the decency or sense to let it lie.

He has forever since been known as The Dud between me and my friends.


Eat It

I really don't like Giada de Laurentiis.  I've never seen a whole one of her shows.  The part that I really do like, though, is the end.  When the food is all prepared and she has to pretend to want to eat it.  It's awesome.  She clearly doesn't want to do it.  She looks slightly terrified as the food approaches her mouth and as she bites down you can see the disgust in her eyes.  Then, my favorite part:  she has to say, "MMMMM.  So good." and swallow.  Although a lot of times they cut away before you see the swallowing, so I'm half-convinced that she spits it out the minute the camera pulls away. 

Why have a cooking show if you don't like food?  Why?


Give it a Click

I found 1000 Awesome Things yesterday.  It's awesome.  Click it.  Do it.  You know you want to.  You'll be cool if you do and if you don't no one will be your friend anymore.


Queen Raj

So I finally made it to the big tent for a class with the Bikram teacher trainees.  Rajashree taught the class (apparently her last until graduation) and it was AWE-SOME. 

It's been a long time since I haven't been able to see myself in the mirror.  I really kind of enjoyed it.  I think I focus too much on what it looks like in the mirror sometimes instead of feeling it.  Looking wasn't an option today and I had one of the best Bikram classes I've had in a long time.

The energy was great and I'm a little bit in love with Raj.  She's funny and she's on top of things.  You think she can't see you?  Wrong.  She can see you and she'll tell you to fix it.

Bikram made a small appearance towards the end of the class.  The thing I've never understood about Bikram is his hair.  I don't get it.  It was flowing freely from under his little cap, though, and that, combined with his outfit made me wonder if I'd somehow entered a Bikram time warp back to the late '70s. 

Overall it was a great experience and I'm going to try to get down there at least one more time before they're done because it really is great energy and great fun.


Toil and Trouble

Today was a rough class.  My right shoulder was on fire almost the whole class and my spine might as well have been made of stone.  I didn't really have trouble getting through, but it was just hard.  The funny thing was, as hard as it was, all I could do was laugh.  I laughed at my burning shoulder, my wobbly balancing postures, my very shallow back bends.  Toil, toil, toil.  But laughing about it, so it was really fine.

The trouble came towards the end of class.  I made an impulsive class decision.  I had been going to go to a later class, but then I got my early chores done faster than I thought, so I decided to go to the 11:30 class.  It didn't occur to me until about minute 75 that I hadn't eaten anything and the only water I'd had was what I'd drunk in class.  I only realized it at all because the tingling in my right arm at that moment became a little scary.

Rabbit gave me a huge cramp across my ribcage and sensation rapidly evacuated my face.  I lay down for a minute and, again, had to laugh.  What kind of dumbass goes to yoga without having had at least a glass of water?  Me.  I recovered enough to finish class without incident and got myself a coconut water to fix the tingly-crampiness.

When I got home, Matt made me a sandwich and some ginger tea and laughed at me - and with me.


If The Old 97s Wrote My Life in Songs

This meme has floated around my email and facebook for a long time.  I finally did it.  It was fun.

Boy or Girl:
Miss Molly

Describe yourself:
Big Brown Eyes

How do you feel:
King of All of the World

Describe where you currently live:
The Streets of Where I'm From

If you could go anywhere, where would you go:

Your favorite form of transportation:
Let the Train Blow the Whistle

Your best friend is:

You and your best friends are:
Friends Forever

What’s the weather like:
Blinding Sheets of Rain

What’s your favorite time?
She Loves the Sunset

If your life was a tv show, what would it be called:
Dance With Me

What is life to you:
This Beautiful Thing

Your current relationship:

Your fear:
Murder (Or a Heart Attack)

What is the best advice you have to give:

Thought for the Day:
Here's to the Halcyon

How I would like to die:

My soul’s present condition:

My motto:
What I Wouldn't Do

Mighty White

My ex-husband is a dickwad.  This is not a dissertation on his dickwaddery, however.  Well, not exactly, anyway.

Ex's maternal grandmother was a horrible woman.  Horrible.  A conduit of evil.  She was a blackhearted bigot disguised as a tiny southern woman.  This woman actually felt that the KKK was a worthwhile social group.  She was the type of woman who'd poison the neighborhood cats because they knocked over the trash cans.

She was all of these things.  She is currently nothing as she is recently deceased.  This is where the story gets interesting.

I am not pure WASP.  Sure, half, but the other half is pure Mexican.  This means I am not blonde.  Nor am I blue-eyed.  Granny did not approve of a person such as myself for her super-bright-white grandson.

The first time I met the woman she asked me if I had any hobbies like quilting, sewing, or gardening.  No, really, she did.  I said no.  She then said, and I quote here verbatim because I couldn't possibly forget it, "Really?  You don't garden?  I thought you Mexicans were born gardeners.  My yardboys are all Mexicans."

When she was told I had moved around a lot she asked if it was because my father was a migrant worker.  Clearly, she had certain ideas.  Needless to say (yet I say it anyway), I wasn't fond of her and the feeling was mutual.

The last time I saw her was at my wedding to Ex.  She brought us an orchid she had grown.  As I understand it orchids are notoriously hard to cultivate.  We took it home with us, but it died, because I have a brown thumb and Ex didn't care to make an attempt to keep it alive.

I was blamed for the death of the orchid - which was fair enough.  But she held it against me. 

Now she's dead.  I know this because Ex's mother tracked down my mother to let me know that Granny had left me all of her gardening crap.  It was actually specified as her greenhouse and it's contents.  She must have written this will long ago and then forgotten.  I know the bequest was meant to be spiteful, but as it turns out, I could be the proud owner of several varieties of rather valuable orchids and a lot of gardening equipment.

Obviously this made Ex livid.  This is where the dickwaddery comes in.  I think I should make it very clear that I do not want the fucking orchids or anything else from this woman.  However, Ex has apparently told a few people (people who then turned around and told me) that he thought I'd been secretly in contact with Granny for years and had persuaded her to leave me her valuable orchids. 

Um, what?  So not just a dickwad, but a dense dickwad.  Jesus Tapdancing Christ on a bed of Bibb lettuce (which, incidentally, my father did not pick, although there would be nothing wrong with it if he had)!

I have to say, some people really do the world a great service by leaving it.

Mean Ugliness

I did three yoga classes yesterday. I did a morning class and two evenings. I think it was exactly what I needed - not so much physically, because, while I am a little sore, it's nothing major - but mentally. By the end of the third class, I was thinking mean thoughts about both of my neighbors and the dude in the corner who kept saying, "what?" every time we went into a new pose.  Why is this what I needed, you ask.  Well, I'll tell you.

It started somewhere after we hit the floor. I suddenly noticed that my one neighbor was making a lot of noise. Not loud noise, but grunts and groans and erratic breathing noises. And he kept breathing through his mouth. It's very likely he was doing it through the whole class, but I didn't really notice until first set of full locust.

I could feel the irritation build. I didn't want it to. I tried to breathe it out. I tried to focus on my own breath instead of Wheezer's (as I started to think of him). I focused on the pink of my towel.   I tried not to be distracted by my sweat rolling off my back. That's when I started to get irritated by The Encroacher.

The Encroacher was my neighbor to the north. He'd come in after we started pranayama and wedged himself into a tiny spot directly behind me (even though there was plenty of space elsewhere) an then asked me to move so he could see. But that was at the beginning of class and none of that bothered me until I started to think the ugly thoughts.

The ugly thoughts towards Encroacher started when he knocked his water bottle over onto me and my towel. Without the cap. It was a shock to be doused with relatively cold water while savasana-ing. Shocking and oh so annoying.

Again, I tried to focus on me, my mat, my very ugly thoughts and just letting it all go. Breathe in. Breathe out.  Breathe in rage.  Breathe out fire.  No.  Wrong.

Then he kept touching my foot.  This is something I can't stand.  Not an accidental touch, but people touching my feet.  The only person I can stand to have touch my feet (unless toenail paiting is involved) is Matt.  I had to prevent myself from kicking him.  It's almost reflexive - like a cat with a wet paw.

I was too close to the podium to move forward and I was hemmed in on both sides, so I concentrated on the sound of the humidifier.  On the teacher's voice...

I made it to the end, but my metal state by the end of class was hardly yogic.  When the teacher started her soothing talk about relaxation and staying on the mat until we lost the impulse to move, I could take no more.  I let the impulse to move overtake me.  I didn't even roll up my mat, I just balled it up enough to get out of the room.

I was still cranky when I got home and when Matt made the mistake of saying, "Maybe three classes in one day wasn't the best idea."  He got an earful of hot venom and hyperbole.  I yelled so hard, I made my throat hurt. 

I finally got myself under control after a long, hot shower and realized that there have been some frustrating things going on in my life, lately.  Nothing major.  Nothing life-altering, but consistently frustrating.  I needed to get it out.  Three classes purged the frustration.

Sometimes working yourself to exhaustion is the way.  I never would have thought.


Dizzy Camels

Okay, so I know you're supposed to get dizzy and emotional in camel.  The dizzy happens often - the emotional component is infrequent.  For the last few days, though, I've gotten so dizzy that I come close to losing consciousness.  Actually, I collapsed backwards yesterday in second set and hit my head pretty hard.

It panics me as it's happening.  And when I come out I'm so disoriented I can barely move for a few seconds.  I've been paying attention to my breathing.  It's good, even, and calm.  And then, suddenly, the dark edges collapse in and I can't see the back wall anymore.  I can't see anything.  I can't feel my arms or head and I know if I stay in the pose, I'll actually pass out. 

I have low blood pressure.  I've been a fainter all my life.  I know when it's about to happen.  I've been very close to losing consciousness several times in the last few days.  It's really only in camel, though.  Every other pose is fine.

I've never had trouble with camel before.  Possibly I'm hitting some kind of wall that I need to break through.  Maybe I'm blocking something emotional that's fucking with me.  I don't know.  All I know is that it's kind of irritating.

I know I have to be patient and take my practice as it is every day.  I'm aware that continuing to do the work will finally get me where I need to be, but sweet Jesus and ice cream, man!  It's always a bastard when these things pop up so suddenly.

Note to self:  work on your patience and letting go of expectation.