Lucy is mama's night-night bear.
I had such a good yoga class tonight. It was one of those classes where I worked hard and the "pain" felt so good. But it's funny, it was so great of a class that the "pain" didn't even feel like "pain." I felt really strong and limber and connected and empowered. I've learned that the stronger (physically) you are, the better your yoga. This is kind of unfair and many yogis will deny it, but it's the truth. Once you're not concentrating so hard on simply getting through the pose without collapsing, you can really go deep. And concentrate on your breathing and your form and the meaning of what you're actually doing. Like my Oprah mag says...the AHA! moment (Ummm, OK I really want to delete that--so cheesey that I talk about O mag in the same paragraph as my vinyasa class! But, I won't. Censorship is not for the blogging lifestyle.)Well, tonight was one of those AHA moments that keeps me going! And I must admit--my teacher teaches a beginner workshop and a bunch of those students "graduated" into my class tonight--she used several of us as examples and that was nice. Ironically, the passage read before beginning asana was about loss and ignoring of ego. Hrrrmmpp. Maybe my ego is what made me have such a strong practice tonight?
At this point it might be helpful for you to know that I am drunk. Not balls-out wasted, but slightly buzzed. Wine, as always, is the usual culprit.
Kevin just got home from scoring some _ _ _ _. We haven't had a bag in this house in months. It's kind of exciting. No smoking has been done, but I smell it, that sweet, sweet aroma for which Colorado is known. Seriously, we have good dope out here. Anyway...the smell of herb is certainly a welcome aroma to the stale wet gnarly old plaster smell we've been inhaling. Sick! It's so gross.
Our landlord is a complete biznatch. We've known this all along... but in the face of crisis, she floundered. I mean....OK, she's on maternity bedrest. We didn't know that. But if you can answer the phone when we call, you can certainly call your rich Daddy and have him throw some dough at the problem. When I called, because--you know--a landlord would most certainly want to know if her house was falling to pieces, she retorted in a most bitch-like manner: "You know, I am on maternity bed rest, there is nothing I can do right now." I wanted to scream: "Try being on bed rest in a house with no heat and no water, you princess!" Uggghhh! She is the WORST landlord--a total snobby princess. She rolled all up in to our house a year back to "meet" us at 9 am in a Lexus SUV with a Ralph Lauren uniform and a rock the size of GREECE. We are such good tenants. Who else drives to Denver's "free mulch day" and fills up their truck with mulch and mulches the whole frickin' yard? We do!! Because we care and we are good caring people who put effort into their household!!!
Anyway, enough bitching. This place is a drain--it's a beautiful house, but it's a total drain on the old pockie-book.
Speaking of bitching, Kevin just picked up some cord that connects this computer to the stereo and he's creaming his britches to use it, so I have to go. We are getting so technical in this household....next you thing you know, I'll be blogging about my new ipod, which is something I am not looking forward to, but I'm sure will do anyway. (I really need an ipod--not to be cool but because it is the make-or-break factor to my running skillz.)
P.S. I am enjoying a GIRL SCOUT COOKIE. I never eat sweets, but I can always support my little pumpkins in green, even if it means scarfing down the scrumptiousness that is a Samoa!