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One year into widowhood, after one year of incredible happiness and nearly 14 years of single blessedness. Have given up perfect manicures and pretty hands in order to resume playing the soprano recorder and to see if I can figure out how to play bluegrass banjo. Singing in the shower. Still really, *really* love to knit!

Saturday, May 01, 2010

Ms. Ravelled Gets Tied Up in Knots!

So, I went to the health club about two hours later than during my workweek. I was afraid that everybody and his dog would have snagged all the good parking spaces, but apparently everybody else was sleeping in. I did, too, but only from 4:00, which is the new normal until I get my routine under control, until about 5:15, and then I noodled around with my knitting for awhile and watered my plants on Fairyland and tried to find a water dragon in somebody else’s garden. They are allegedly common, and they are popping up in my own garden like mushrooms after the rain, but can I spot one in other gardens? N-o-o-o-o-o!

Where was I? Oh. Right. Health club. So I did my 20 minutes on the treadmill, 3% grade, 2.5mph, about an apple and a half’s worth of calories. And half an hour on the recumbent bike, with my nose in my book. And then I wandered over to the classroom, to see what classes are currently being offered.

Yoga. Starting in about half an hour, just enough time to run home and get my mat. So I did.

I like her. Nice calm voice, huge classroom, and she warned us that it was too cold in there for yoga and to please be extra careful. So I was. Mostly I sat with my feet sole-to-sole, mentally bickering with my knees to please get closer to the floor, how hard can that be?

I can do Cow. I can sortof do Cat. My knees do not like all the hands-and-knees asanas, I cannot touch my toes, I cannot touch my ankles unless I am sitting with my feet sole-to-sole. I was listening to my body, and my body was saying, “We are not ready for yoga. We want to go home, but first we need to pee. And oh, by the way, we want to take belly dancing again. We want to move. And your yoga pants are about to fall off.”

There is one series of moves that she taught which, if my arms were strong enough to support myself while running through them, and if I did them in that order, would have me screaming Sean Connery’s name after about five repeats. Which would be seriously embarrassing for me and utterly disrupt the tranquility of the class. So, no.

And Downward Facing Dog? I posted on Facebook that mine just wanted to turn around three times and lie down. But really, I think mine would prefer to be quietly euthanized. With a headstone shaped like a Milkbone, but made of dark chocolate.

I came home and logged on and found the website of the local belly dancing studio. They are finally, finally offering more than one beginner’s class. I am hoping that there is enough wiggle room in the budget next Friday [wiggle room; I slay myself!] that I can sign up for a month’s worth of classes.

Time to get cleaned up and go out and run some errands. Including a manicure, and the scaling of Mount Washmore, and I am craving vegetables, more particularly a salad. I am in full-on “my body is a temple” mode. Although if it starts telling me that it’s craving broccoli, I am going to tell it to hush.

2 comments:

Angeluna said...

Funny! I can relate.

Jenni said...

You make me laugh. Yoga is my best friend and I can't wait to be done with school and actually have some time to go other places and do other things.