Yoga for breakfast

I wrote in a post yesterday that I’d do yoga and so early this morning I went to a yoga class (there was some egging on taking place from a friend who clearly has been doing this long enough that she could actually twist into pretzel shapes and look great next to my sweaty misaligned form).

How would I rate the experience? Level of difficulty: 10. Niceness of classmate who asked me later if I was sure I’d not done yoga in recent years: 10. Patience of teacher with new students (meaning me): 10. Degree of joy when the clock reached the ending time: 10.

If I were to issue one constructive comment I suppose I’d say that it’s not necessary to tell us to flower into infinity. The idea of being at one with infinity is kind of freaky to begin with, and I cannot wrap my mind around the notion of flowering into it. And I don’t believe that the mere act of breathing out deftly will get rid of many of the toxins within. But those little quips notwithstanding, I am willing to admit that it is a strengthening, health-promoting activity. We’ll see if I can get myself to do a rerun. Just thinking of it makes my muscle groups shake.

A blogger’s delight

It has been said that blogging opens doors, brings people together, creates new bonds. Indeed. Yesterday I had dinner with three people that I met entirely as a result of my entry into the world of weblogs. Mother-in-law came up to Madison and she brought with her a friend whom she met through the Internet (the friend lives in Le Havre, France) and we were joined by Mother-in-law’s REAL mother-in-law. The frosting on the cake was that we ate at L’Etoile, thus I could reap direct benefits from my market foraging of 25 pounds of snap peas (they were floating around my piece of halibut) and two crates of mushrooms (they were frothed in my amuse bouche) and several flats of strawberries (they were in the chantilly meringue dessert); and I could make life difficult for the unlucky waiter (sorry, James) who had to endure my ridiculous but sincerely motivated questions about the source of one ingredient or another (he’ll get me for that one day in the kitchen, I’m sure).

I don’t typically put in photos of the “here I am against the background of X” sort, but this one deserves to be the exception (though I’ll let the reader match faces with blogs, in laws, and French guests) as it is proof positive that blogging may lead to many smiles and warm encounters. And good meals.


blogger meets blogger & co.