a “personal record”, that is, Full Primary, including dropbacks in just moments over an hour.
Not that it’s a race. But the fact that I could do it at all in that time frame – well, I’m just going to take a moment to be impressed with myself. I have no idea how I pulled it off. I came in feeling like complete crap. I had spent the day at the new house, which isn’t even mine yet, watering the lawn (no small feat, considering that there is roughly an acre or so of lawn out back alone) and training Lewis the Bagle to use the Invisible Fence. Never mind the fact that I was totally trespassing, which fact completely escaped me until The Husband pointed it out when I came home.
He was all, “You could have gotten arrested, you know.”
I was all, “Yeah, but the lawn was turning brown.”
He was all, “What if you got injured on their property?”
I was all, “Heh? If I got injured and no one gets sued, who really cares?”
When he was all, “What if you were so seriously injured that we had no choice but to sue?”
My mind went blank. That’s when I realized that I really am no longer a lawyer.
Anyway, it was lovely to be there. I decided on a place to put the Composting Bin. And I even collected some branches and twigs to use as my first layer. I am obsessed with composting. I am sure you will hear all about it shortly.
Lewis is a bit traumatized by the Invisible Fence, but that’s okay. Better that he should be a bit intimidated by it than that he should run away. I spent a lot of time and energy trying to soak the lawn, which has the consistency of a thick wool blanket and is about as porous. I also gave some attention to the lavendar bushes, which were quite sad looking when I got there. They did perk up quite a bit from the hosing down, I am happy to report The rose bushes are, at this point, pruned within an inch of their lives, so I have no idea how they are doing. The lawn, which has large patches of thirsty brown wherever the sun shines the brightest, remains to be seen.
Did I mention that my entire reason for being there was to check the mailbox for letters from camp? Hmmm. Maybe I didn’t mention it because there WERE no letters from camp. An entire week has gone by, and my children have not sent me one letter. I will have to make them feel very guilty for this.
By the time I got back to the city, it was already 45 minutes into the evening session with T, which made me sad because I have been really looking forward to doing dropbacks with her. I have heard very very good things. On the other hand, it was miraculous that I got myself to the mat at all, considering the resistence my mind was putting up. Damn mind. It had all but convinced me that there was no way I could even touch my toes today. Of course, it was all a big lie; as soon as I got started with my practice, it was clear that my mind had been playing tricks on me. Although my intention was to do only the Standing Poses, based on my mind’s protests against being pushed aside for an hour or so while my body went through its paces on the mat, turned out that one thing led to another, and I was on the Marichyasanas. So, I just kept going. Of course, since it was past 7 p.m., I was on my own, and Supta K was bound only by the grace of the loop of canvas I had waiting by my side. And dropbacks with T would have to wait for next week. Still, I almost stood up from a backbend without flailing into the wall in front of me.
Came home and went out to dinner at Amber on the UES, where I discovered the bestest drink ever: Malibu and Pineapple Juice, straight up. I just made it up, and it is much yummier than any of their strange concoctions involving vanilla vodka and pomegranate juice.
Did I mention that I actually convinced The Husband to let me have a couple of chickens? Laksmi, I need some help here. I want to raise chickens so that I can have my own homegrown eggs. My family is actually, historically, a family of egg-farmers, and I feel the pull towards growing my own. Eggs. I think two chickens would be sufficient. But not in a coop. They have to run free, right? Yeah, I know nothing about this other than the fact that I want to grow my own eggs. Luckily, The Husband said we have to wait until next summer to take this on. So, I have a year to play with my Compost Pile and read about egg farming.
Just call me Farmer YC.
It’s an outrage. I send my children off to summer camp, thinking that they’re going to be having the time of their lives, playing sports, hiking, doing ropes courses, camping out under the stars. And what do I stumble upon? A photo of my eight year old, apparently being made to work in the fields.
When my older son studied child labor in First Grade, he made the somewhat disturbing, yet adorable (because I’m his mom, and I say it’s adorable) comment: “I don’t mind child labor as long as I don’t have to do it.”
Well, perhaps the statement was prescient after all. Will we next see a photo of Brian fishing for his dinner?
I am ever so briefly jumping on the YouTube bandwagon for the limited purpose of posting this incredibly visually engaging photo montage set to India.Arie’s powerful “I Am Not My Hair”, which has the unique distinction of featuring not only Barbie, Breast Cancer and Black Hair, but also Donald, Demi and a little Dutch girl who hates her bangs.
Off to see Jean Luc Ponty, grabbing that last bit of culture while it’s still only a cab ride away.
Oh, by the way, the Upper East Side had a blackout today. But all is well now.
First mystery: why the sudden 33% uptick in my daily average of new readers (from in the 200’s to in the 300’s)? At first I was like, is it the whole Squirrel thing? Are that many people reading the Voodoo Queen’s blog and then getting referred to mine via the comments section? The I remembered that I, Yoga Chickie, am the Source Of All Things, at least all things Blogworthy, or at least in my mind I am.
Hence, some digging was in order.
Literally, as you shall soon see.
What I discovered after about two seconds-worth of sleuthing (luckily, I didn’t have to dig as far as the people who solved Mystery Number Two, see below) is that people from all over the world are finding my blog when they search for “Hatshepsut”. Hatshepswhowhat? Well, for those who don’t know that Hatshepsut was the “Original Drag King”, I’ve provided you pretty much all the information you need to know about Hatshepsut in this here history-making blog entry.
But why all the sudden interest in a woman who was the only woman to become a successful Pharoah in Ancient Egypt and whose entire existence and memory was erased (or an attempt at erasure was made) by the jealous and, I suppose, slightly embarassed, successors to the Pharoah throne?
I mean, dude’s been dead for like thousands of years.
Well, a quick google search of my own produced This Article from the Guardian Unlimited, which was published on this very day. The gist of it is the subject of Mystery Number Two.
Second Mystery: Whatever happened to Hatshepsut’s mummified remains (since her tomb was revealed to contain nothing but the remains of dead geese), and what mysteries do those remains hold?
The answers were found in the form of a tooth that was part of the artifacts with which Hatshepsut was buried (Only the body was removed from the tomb. Silly grave robbers, leaving behind damning evidence!). When an unidentified mummy found near the empty tomb was examined, it was found to be missing a tooth (many teeth actually), which tooth was determined to be the tooth that belonged to Hatshepsut, and which was buried in her body-less tomb. Thus, it was determined that the unidentified mummy was actually Hatshepsut. And from that discovery, it was also determined that Hatshepsut was obese, had bad teeth and most likely died from cancer.
Speaking of teeth, here is Adam’s favorite memory from Second Grade (see below for context):