My Happy Place

A couple of birdies (of the same feather) told me that my blog seemed "angry."  I think what they meant to say was sarcastic.  These birds just happened to be drinking at the time so I can see how they might get that confused.  Anyway, I thought I would humor them and redirect my tone to something a little more jovial - my happy place.  Don't worry.  It is very PG.  I have kids, you know.

One word.  YOGA.  Seriously, I have fallen in love.  I have done yoga a dozen or so times - maybe more, maybe less.  But, just recently have I realized how awesome it is.  Over the weekend, I did a class with the two aforementioned birds above, and I was even COMPLIMENTED on how good I was.  Granted, they were mostly over 60 and the lights were off, not to mention the incense that was burning had us all high, but it counts.  Hate the game, not the player.  I guess my little baby in my pelvis centered my inner chi, because you ask anyone who knows me well and they will tell you my middle name ain't Grace.  And, to all you naysayers, you work your body in ways you didn't think possible.  Not only does my whole body ache, but I have a bruise.  You know you worked it out when you have battle wounds.

Yoga must be like crack, because I am on a mission to get that high.  I am addicted - I can't wait to do it again.  All I can think about is my next Cobra or Thread the Needle.  I shall perfect my Ujjayi Pranayama.  I mean, who can even say that word?  I'm just glad that my new obsession will increase my flexibility, as opposed to my first pregnancy when I was addicted to Twinkies.  And, maybe - just MAYBE - my pelvis won't separate as it did in my second pregnancy.  And to that I say, Namaste.