• If you don’t have a kitchen scale, a postal scale will do in a pinch. Yes, I own a postal scale. It is now dusted with powdered sugar.
• It looks like the Shakti side string shorts are my favorite. (Size small, if you want to buy me more.) I have a dozen pair. How did that happen?
• So standing bow. Let’s talk about it. I think we all have a showy pose or two that we’re built for. Sometimes it takes years to find it. Maybe you never find it because your practice never took you to the posture that would suit your body perfectly. But I think it’s out there. Right now, standing bow is my successful fancy pose. (On only one side of course.) It’s getting easier. On a good day I can hold it the whole time for both sets with both knees locked and my chin to shoulder. When I’m up to it, I can settle in the pose and start messing around, focusing on my low back and arching more so that my hand doesn’t slip down my shin, leveling my gaze, and getting out of my heel. This makes me feel successful because it’s taken years of tinkering and building strength to get here.
|Mine's pretty, but it sure ain't that pretty.|
• I gave Jim a sweater. He said, “It’s so soft.” “Well,” I replied, “It’s Merino wool.” “What, like, it comes from whales?” No, darling, MerinO not marinA.
• Jim’s Josie had a piano recital today. She played the hell out of that “Silent Night.” Not one mistake, excellent timing. She crushed it. Afterward she took me prowling through the mucky wilderness behind their house. My reluctance was obvious. It was cold. I was wearing boots with a four-inch heel. But she’s persuasive and I am weak, so I grabbed my bushland-inappropriate trench coat and followed her out the back gate and into the dirt and rocks. We scrambled over hills made mud from snow, through wicked brambles, and to the frozen lake where we walked out on the ice as far as we dared (like two feet), and, after Josie had me commit to diving in to save her if the ice broke and she fell in, we tried to break through the ice with rocks. I’m not sure I could have been more inappropriately dressed for this series of activities. It’s a miracle I didn’t fall off a boulder or something and break my neck.
Trekking back to the house, our clothes got covered with stickers, Josie’s especially. She asked me to carry her. “Yeah, I’m not doing that.” Because, duh, I can’t. There’s only 20 pounds between us. I thanked her for her faith in my strength. (Which doesn’t exist.) She said I should have talked her out of the adventure. I laughed and replied, “The day I can talk you out of anything is the day the world ends. But next time you want to take me on some safari that I don’t want to do, can I please remind you of the time you wished I’d talked you out of something?” When we got back, Jim had a special little hummus plate he made waiting for me and a hamburger for Josie, the world’s most committed carnivore. He scrubbed our boots clean of the caked-on mud. Now they’re good as new. And I believe I’m quite the hotshot for crossing the planes in very tall shoes.
• Hey Jim, I bought mistletoe.