Practiced at home, watched The 40 Year Old Virgin…

February 28, 2006

bent, breathed, laughed, sang,
Mari D is so my thang,
cuddled with my warm, delicious hound,
picked up freckle-face from three blocks uptown,
drank vanilla soy chai from a lovely china cup,
noticed my chapped lips are finally healing up,
less than four weeks left of winter they say,
This is turning out to be a fine day.

YC


Yogi Tea Black Chai

February 28, 2006

Well, a new chai tea discovery, and this may be even better than the Bigelow Vanilla Chai…it’s Yogi Tea Black Chai, and when you empty two bags of it into a cup of non-fat vanilla soy milk, it is YUMMY!!!!! Spicy and warm and sweet and only 80 calories (the vanilla soy adds the calories). I tried Tazo’s chai yesterday afternoon at a local coffee bar, at Susan’s suggestion. But, Susan, I have to say, it wasn’t my fave. Have you tried the Yogi Tea version? It is absolutely delish!!

YC


Help! I’m tired and I can’t get up!

February 28, 2006

It’s been two days so far of absolute a-motivational exhaustion. This is the girl who skiied for seven days straight, went out to dinner three times and still managed to practice at least some yoga every day? Yesterday was a moonday, fine. But today? What’s my excuse for dropping the kids off at school, dragging myself home and falling into a deep sleep on the sofa for three hours instead of going to practice?

Up and attem. I gotta get up and do something. MUST practice. MUST practice. MUST practice.

YC


The truth is out there

February 28, 2006

There are three sides to every story, and only one is the truth. For better or for worse, we can never really tell the truth, even if we try. We never really even see the truth. Or rarely can we. I suppose that those rare glimpses of truth can be viewed as moments of enlightenment, if you are so inclined to believe that enlightenment can come in glimpses (I happen to be one who is so inclined). But then I wonder if we can ever really know we are experiencing one of those rare moments of enlightenment. Is becoming conscious of our consciousness akin to looking down while walking a tightrope?

But this thought I was having, it didn’t start out as a thought about enlightenment at all. It started out as a thought about the Husband. I was re-reading yesterday’s blog entry, where I talk about his issues with my practicing ashtanga downtown, and it occurred to me that my story is not the only story. Of course, since this is my blog, my story is pretty much all you get. You won’t get the Husband’s, unless I tell it, in which case, it still is my story. But to be fair, I ought to say that I am pretty lucky that I can even go to the places that I go and do the things that I do without worrying about how I am going to pay my rent or afford a visit to the doctor.

When the Husband and I were dating, we would sometimes have philosophical debates about women in the workplace. I was always the one insisting that women can have it all, that having children changes nothing, that only lazy and weak women stop working once they become mothers. These were my more argumentative days. My young ideals were fairly rigid and very unemotional, despite my belief that they were very liberal and highly emotional. Or perhaps, it is just that they were, in fact, liberal and emotional, for me as I was then: a young, highly educated, highly ambitious woman in a still-male-dominated workforce, a woman who was a long time from being anywhere near ready to have children.

Yet another instance of the truth being out there, but being utterly beyond anyone’s grasp. There was a time for me when the “truth” was something different than it is for me now. As it stands for now, the truth is colored by my love for my children, my fears regarding health (yes, there, I said it), my compulsion to stay healthy and balanced (yoga) and my fiscal ability to steer clear of an office job (or any job, really), which is really a function of having picked the right guy and being lucky to have had him pick me. I am talking about the Husband.

Yeah, he busts my chops about how time-consuming my yoga practice is. But if he were writing on this blog (and for all you know, he is), he would say that it’s not about the yoga at all. He would say that it’s about expectations, namely his. Namely his, which are based on my expectations, as transmitted to him. Back in May, when I first set out to practice at a shala, I told the Husband that this was my plan for the summer. It never occurred to me that it would continue. And continue. And as a result, he thought that come the fall, I would still be teaching at New York Yoga, and I would be practicing there, for free. Things changed, but I never really discussed it with him, and if he were writing this blog, he would probably be saying that it’s not that he cares about the money or the time, but rather the fact that I didn’t discuss my plans with him.

There is a part of me, a big part, that would never think to discuss such things with anyone. This big part of me, this forever single career girl, this non-mom, she would simply do what she wanted when she wanted and not have to discuss it with anyone. And she would be unable to even imagine that anyone would be upset about it. To be honest, even with all this rambling thought, I still find it hard to understand why the Husband would care about my discussing my plans with him. But it’s how he feels. And that makes it valid. If not exactly “true”, it is at least valid.

YC


It is true that one thing I I like about "chai"

February 27, 2006

is that it sounds like “chai” (or “khai”), you know, the Hebrew word for the number “18”, which is very good luck and auspicious and all that, in the Jewish religion.

But one thing I don’t like about chai is all the calories from the milk and honey. So, imagine my total psyched-ness when I discovered Bigelow’s Vanilla Chai Tea, which tastes and smells exactly like the deliciously sweet and creamy concoction they used to make at Shala X last summer (what happened to that anyway???) but which has nothing but tea and spices in it! YUM. And I mean seriously. YUM.

I discovered the stuff at the Salt Lake City airport hotel we stayed at, of all places – I think it was a Marriot, but it was so non-descript that I can’t even remember, although they were thoughtful enough to have tea and biscotti out in the lobby when we arrived lin the middle of the night from NYC. Parched, and with no Snapple and no Hazlenut coffee to drink, I reluctantly picked up a bag of the Vanilla Chai, added hot water and….whoa. Immediate transportation back to Shala X, circa June 2005. And it tasted every bit as good as it smelled. I tucked a couple of bags into my pockets and enjoyed my Vanilla Chai two more times in Utah before running out.

Then began my quest for good chai. I was hooked. Unfortunately, all there was was “Oregon Chai”, which basically sucks and requires equal parts chai and milk to taste like anything other than sickly sweet artificial cinnamon. When I came home, one of the first things I did was order a case of my new addiction. The Yoga Chickie Snapple Era (10 long years!) may be coming to a close….

YC


Old stockbrokers never die…

February 27, 2006

They just play Online Poker. The Husband (who has since come around, kind of, at least momentarily, on the whole “downtown yoga thing”, as he calls it) and I are proud of our friend, Johnny Bax, and not just a little envious that he can make big bucks (and support his family of five) playing games on the internet.

Go Bax!

YC


First Day Back at Shala X

February 26, 2006

So nice to be back!!! And boy was it crowded today. I got a spot in the last row and then I kept moving up, row by row. It reminded me of being a tile in one of those sliding tile puzzles (like the one at left).

I was suprised to find that I was the first one up in the Yoga Chickie household today (I have to admit, Brian would have been, had he not been on a sleepover at his best friend’s place). I immediately climbed into a steaming hot bathtub, heated up the muscles and joints, got dressed, walked Lewis and drove downtown. Still ended up getting there at 9:25, which was later than I intended, but early enough to get plenty of adjustments and assists (Uttitha Parsva Konasana, Prasarita Pado C, Tirianga Mukha Pada Paschimo, all of the Mari’s).

As I suspected, I wasn’t as bendy here in NYC as I was in Utah. However, Jose gave me an amazing door-opening, code-cracking tip regarding Mari D: elbow to the outside of the knee, other hand to the floor and TWIST FIRST. THEN reach around and bind. Voila. Mari D.

It seems so obvious now. Twist first, bind later.

Many backbends today. Three sets of three.

I can’t write any more right now because I am actually mid-fight with the Husband. He is agitated that I am going downtown for yoga (too time consuming?) and spending $200 a month on yoga (instead of $125 for a membership at Sports Club/LA). This really irks me because what else should I spend my time doing? Lunching with the ladies? And I SAW what goes on at the Sports Club/LA in their yoga program. It’s basically glorified calisthenics. Even the Ashtanga class.

The Husband would rather that I run on the treadmill and pump iron and take the occasional yoga class. Because he doesn’t get yoga. His loss.

Seems to me that I should be able to practice yoga where I want to, and $200 isn’t all that much to spend for our family.

Whatever. Equanimity. Calm. Peace.

YC