Not the ones under my eyes. The big-ass ballistic cargo bags that we shipped out to sleepaway camp at 5 a.m. this morning. The boys get shipped out next Friday. Their room is half empty now, a quarter packed for the Big Move and a quarter business as usual, which is to say, a mess of baseball cards, Pokemon cards, stuffed animals (you must never tell them that I told you that!), rocks, and yesterday’s clothing, also known as today’s laundry.
Today was yet another dance performance, this time, the younger half of the school, but again, African themed. What’s with the whole Africa theme this year? Remember that advertising campaign that was all, “I Am Africa”, and featured lily-white famous people like Gwyneth Paltrow and Sarah Jessica Parker demonstrating their inner African-ness by smearing their faces with tribal paint? “Dancing in the Streets” is an annual thang at my kids’ school. It is exactly what it sounds like. The kids dance in the street outside the school, which isn’t really all that exceptional since the school lacks anything resembling an auditorium or outdoor space, and as a result, the street outside the school is closed to traffic throughout the school day so that the kids can play at having a school yard.
Hmmm. I probably sound a bit sour-grapesish. Leaving it and dissing it, one might conclude that the leaving it preceded the dissing it, when in fact, the dissing it is what led to the leaving it. I believe that my discontent started when the Husband and I donated roughly, well, let’s just say, a significant amount of cash, to build a basketball court in the asphalt courtyard behind the school. Roughly a year and a half later, we are still hearing that work will begin any day now. My kids need better digs than that. If my kids are going to dance in the streets, it should be because they want to, not because they have to.
Maybe I’m grumpy about it because it’s like the eleven-billionth “Be At School, Mommy” event that I’ve had to show up for in the past three weeks. What if I worked for a living? How do the working moms make it to all these events? Friday is yet ANOTHER party in Adam’s classroom, although I shouldn’t be bitter. It’s a goodbye party for Adam, as well as Maclyn, who is moving to Switzerland and Marisa, who is moving to Colorado, and I am the one who asked the teacher to schedule the party because Adam is going to be long-gone by the time the last classroom party of the year takes place in the third week of June. Yes, New York City likes to keep their kids in school; it love them long time.
Dancing in the Streets ended at about 9:30 a.m., which is way too late for me to start heading to the Shala, which meant that I could either practice at home, go biking OR go to a diner and eat some scrambled eggs. Ah, breakfast. It’s a luxury with the Mysore mornings. I took full advantage, setting myself up with the latest New York Magazine (the Best Doctors issue, and no, none of my doctors are in it this year), which I read cover to cover until I had to pick my kids (and their playdates) up at …. UGH …. 11:30 a.m. The other, um, nice thing about Dancing in the Streets is that it always is followed by a very early dismissal to make room for the Annual Ice Cream Social, at which next year’s kindergartners get to meet each other and the teachers and administration. Space is at a premium in New York City, and on days like this, you don’t forget it for a second.
I was going to pretend that today was the moon day, but for some odd reason, I felt compelled to practice at home this afternoon. Maybe it was the Young Coconut I slurped at around noon. I did the Yoga Chickie Ashtang-esque Sequence, which is pretty much what I always do now when I practice at home. It starts out the same as the Ashtanga practice, from Surya A up through the Trikonasanas.
Then at Parsvakonasana, I add a bind on both sides, in both A and B and hold it for what seems like minutes before doing the pose as Guruji prescribes.
I pretty much do the Ashtanga thing all the way through Janu Sirsa B, after which I do Compass Pose (one leg straight up behind the shoulder, held in place with the opposite hand) and then Yoga Nidrasana before Janu Sirsa C. CRIMINAL, I know. But to me, these poses are like Janu C on acid. Janu C, at least to me, is all about opening up the lower back. I envision it blossoming open, like a flower. And these poses that I add in there, take it up to the next level, really preparing me for what comes next.
All of the Marichyasanas are done twice in my home practice. And today, I practiced jumping straight into Bujapidasana. Don’t get me wrong – I can’t do it to save my life. But what I could do was jump my feet around my arms and then go right into it, without any dancing around. The going straight into it method actually sets me up for a much better Buja than dancing around and shoving my shoulders behind my legs.
Kurmasana is a long-drawn-out thing, starting with a standing Tithibasana, using a dog-toy with a round, rubber ring to catch the bind, then moving to the floor and doing the same thing. I had Brian’s playdate come over and press my elbows together, and he got my fingers to touch and kind of curl together, but he wasn’t confident enough to really push hard enough to get my hands to bind securely. And this is a good thing, because otherwise, it certainly would demystify the whole teacher thing, right? I mean, if getting someone into Supta Kurmasana is so easy a child can do it, then who needs an authorized Ashtanga teacher?
Finally, I finish that damn Primary Series! HA! It’s my house. I can do Primary if I want to.
Oh, what would Guruji say?
After Setu Bandasana, I did four backbends, then held Shoulderstand for four minutes and when I got to Sirsasana (headstand), I held it for five. Well, three and then two – my fingers were sliding apart, and I wanted to re-set up. And now that I have been reprimanded by the Squirrel, I know that when I lift up at the end of Sirsasana, it is with a firmly tucked chin. No problem for me on that. I am as strong as others are flexible. If I ever get to Kapotasana, I will probably stay there for two or three or thirty years or so. But anything requiring muscles? No problema.
Then I was called upon by the children to win them some Kins Cash so that their Webkins could eat. Poor Webkins. My kids feed them burgers and pie, but no fruits and veggies. And they make all of their money at the arcade because they can’t hold down a Webkins job.
Afterwards, I cleaned out the closets in the playroom, putting aside things like wood blocks and large legos to give away. We are officially past the wood blocks and large legos stage. But not past Lincoln Logs, train sets and really really small legos.
And now, I am blogging. Funny, I was going to title his entry, “Stingy” and write about two sentences to the effect that for some reason, I just don’t feel like sharing. Ah, the best laid plans.