But not so much the asana. Sometimes. Like today. Miracle of discipline that I even got my hung over ass to practice this morning. Went to David Burke & Donatella for drinks and dinner with friends from Bedford. The bartender rather liked me and kept filling my martini glass with increasingly creative versions of my initial pomegranate lemonade with citron vodka, straight up. At some point, there was even champaigne poured into the glass. That was delish, by the way.
Soused before we even sat down at our table, I was.
Dinner involved some insanely expensive bottle of red – the other couple’s pick. Husband o’ Mine gritted his teeth and bore it like a man. And the pouring was continuous, a veritable bottomless glass.
There was animal flesh consumed as well. And gossip. And scathing criticisms of a couple of “townsfolk” who can’t seem to “get” the interracial thing with any level of couth or grace.
This morning, after consuming all that tamasic food and digesting it with the bitterness of speaking ill of others, my body was shot. Not so much inflexible as utterly lacking in strength.
But i did it, so yay me!