Couldn’t make it to practice today because….I couldn’t find my car keys. That’s a first for me. I was stranded for like half the day because I couldn’t find my friggin car keys. Not that I mind practicing myself these days. I get that way sometimes. It’s like a cocooning time for me, and usually it seems that when the cocooning time is over, I emerge with some new tricks of some sort. For some, Ashtanga comes easily. For me, it takes doing Pasasana four times on each side several times a week before I will be able to self-bind in it reliably. I’m still scooching around a bit more than I’d like in preparation for Supta K. I figure that someday, I will just wrap myself into it without all the hullaballoo. But not today.
When I practice at home, I often find myself going all the way to Ardha Matsyandrasana. Or at least to Kapotasana. For a sucky backbender, I am finding my hands ever closer to my feet in that one. I wonder if by the time I am “given” Kapo, I will actually be able to do it with assistance. That would be nice. It would take a lot of anxiety out of backbending for me.
My eyes are closing. I have had so little time for blogging lately. So many house projects going on. I got a sewing machine for my birthday, and I’ve been mending and crafting all the things that have been waiting for me all this time – Brian’s quilt, for example, which needed to be folded in half and stitched all the way around in order to create a quilt of half its size. And several pairs of my jeans, of which I had cut the bottoms, leaving frayed edges. Time to smooth out those frayed edges. Then there’s the end table I stripped and am in the process of refinishing. Soon, I will be painting my boys’ rooms. Today, after I finally found my stupid keys, I took the boys to the hardware store in town and picked out some colors and some corresponding paint samples to throw up on the wall to see how they’ll look.
Tomorrow, hopefully, nothing will get in the way of me and Georgetown, Connecticut. Because on Wednesday, I have the dishwasher repairman coming (again, Goddamnit, f-ing Fisher and Paykel dish drawer. NEVER again. NEVER again, I tell you. Next time it will be a Maytag or something like that), and we’re also getting our basketball hoop installed at the edge of the driveway. And then on Friday, I have a class trip to an art museum, which, if Martha Stewart had her way, would no longer be able to call themselves by their name. That’s all I’m sayin’.