Rocks in the Dryer

Brown Eyes

What are your weekend plans?  Me?  I plan to be making out with my dog all weekend long.  Who could resist that face, those eyes!  Have a good one!

Favorite Rocks?

I deal with a lot of rocks in my line of work:  The mothering of boys.  No doubt my favorite kind of rock of all time is the heart shaped variety.  My husband has a keen knack for finding heart shaped rocks and we have built a nice collection.  In celebration of today, thought I would share a lovely photo of a heart-shaped rock!  Happy Valentine's Day!

 

photo credit: the majik of magenta

 

Hello Vanity!

illustration by: yokofurusho.com

 

Oh the lessons of an ordinary day.  Without warning I got a view of myself, or a view of something deep in myself that I didn't know was there.  At least I didn't know the breadth.  I think it's safe to call it vanity.  Drat.  I thought myself beyond such girlish ailments.

My facebook friends, at least those blessed with certain timing, know that I was the recipient of a dreadful haircut last week.  The attention this received was funny, light and hopefully entertaining to all involved.  I am a big fan of self-deprecation and can hopefully laugh hardest at myself.  It was just one of those little circuses that can give social media a "time wasting" reputation.  Haircut - who cares.

There was a lot of stress draped on my bad hair event.  Did I dare go back to the original offender to fix the disaster?  In all of it's horror it was a rather expensive cut by any standard.  I couldn't bring myself to trust him to go at it again.  That would mean paying another person for yet another expensive procedure in one week!  Was I so vain that I couldn't just wait and let it grow?  Yes, undeniably Yes.  I was freaked out I tell you.

The experts tell us that stress can manifest in powerful ways.  To this, with a dose of hindsight, I concur.  Bad haircut was on Tuesday, followed much dilemma and stress about how to remedy the situation deep into the night.  Wednesday morning I suffered a massive muscle spasm in my lower back that left me, once again, flat on the floor for more days than I have to waste.

Friday came with the blessing of a new haircut waiting for me at 11:00 am.  I limped in with my aching back and walked out with a new do and a bounce in my step.  Poor little me, me and my vanity.  I was so stressed out about my HAIR that I suffered a stress related injury?  I can look at it from the angle that I am so lucky that the worst thing going on in my life, the most stressful event, is a bad haircut.  How lucky am I!  OR - holy mackerel, I in need of a vanity check-up.  

Whatever the case, I am thrilled that I can now stand upright and hold my head high as I venture back out in the public eye.  Though, "Wow", I think to myself, you think you know someone.......

Inside Frozen Fenway

My 7 year old has friends in high places.  Lucky for me, I got to be his chaperon.  His hockey coach just so happens to be a senior executive for the Boston Red Sox by day.  When Fenway Park was frozen this year, guess who's team was invited to play...lucky little nuggets.

Yes, I thought it so cool that my son got the rare opportunity to play and take part of this unique event, but I found myself a bit consumed by my own incredible opportunity to be in a nearly empty Fenway Park.  When does that happen?

Mildly speaking, I took lots of photos:

Do you know the story of the lone red seat in the right field bleachers? It signifies the longest home-run ever hit at Fenway. Read bout it here.

Our team's spectators (at left in photo) were given the privilege of sitting in a private box overhanging the ice.  Boiling hot chocolate and other goodies were overflowing for our consuming pleasure.  The rest of the schmoes had to sit waaaaaaaay far away under an overhang in a roped off corral out of the suns reach (see them far right in photo). Nah nah na boo boo.

After our team finished playing we received a private escort up to top of the Green Monster where we had the privilege of watching the next game - as if we hadn't gotten our fair share already....

All in a day's work.

The Jell-o Fish

I had a Christmas party, but how could you know that.  I haven't attended to this blog since November.  Life has been going on and I have been developing lots of new and exciting entertainment....

Back to the party.  I had a Christmas party, yes I did.   I didn't take many photos and for that I am regretful.  The mid-century menu was divine and matching decor, in my opinion, beat the band.

I did, however, take a photo of the fish. 

- hipstimatic dated it, however so appropriately '81.  It's 2011 all the way

 

Last year I threw a mid-century menu party and made a jell-o mould, sticking to the theme and all.  No one touched it - and who could blame them, jell-o and cool-whip are kind of are gross.  The jell-o recipes of the 50's are disgusting, yet so ...... festive! I have plowed through many back issues of "The Joys of JELL-O" trying to find just the right one to bring to my modern table and then, out of nowhere, a flash of genius!  Vodka!

Don't put cubed ham or peas, tuna, olives and apricots in the jell-o - put VODKA in it!

The Vodka fish was an enormous hit.  Not only was it fun, festive and tasty, it was entertainment, a conversation piece!   The fish was hacked to death right there on his mirrored display for all to see.  People I never dreamt so daring, were slurping up Vodka Fish and with great pride and celebration.  Who knew.

This fish has breathed new life into entertaining as I know it. He made his way to my neighbor's 7 fish dinner Christmas Eve, that was a virgin fish, family party and all.  I have been invited to participate in a recipe swap.  I wonder if Vodka Fish is an appropriate submission?  Big Daddy and I have a couple of party invites on the horizon where we are asked to bring an appetizer.... hmmmmmm, what to bring? Vodka Fish!

 

Here's the recipe:

Obtain a large fish jell-o mould (mine came from an estate sale) 

Choose seasonally appropriate jell-o flavor and color 

Follow package directions substituting (to taste or tolerance) some/all of the cold water with vodka

Enjoy!

 

 

crave more jell-o inspiration - see here: 

Where Have I Been?

No secret I have been a little absent.  The only excuse I can muster is my new BFF, Block Head.  Where I have been you ask? I have been walking my dog. 

I walk him around this fair town until my heels bleed, I sweep and vacuum his hair, I pick up his poop, I go to the pet store acquiring his necessities, I make tantalizing treats and activities to entertain him in my absence.  He is sucking up all of my time.  Time beautiful time.

Lucky he's so darn cute and sweet, I have to contain myself from eating him.  I love him, my little boys are over the moon, but gracious sakes alive, where does the time go?

 

 

 

That was NOT my Vacation

Since the birth of my children I have learned to look at what used to be a vacation as more of a business trip. The scenery changes, the work load does not.  I was fortunate enough to spend two weeks on the cape, but it didn't seem much like a vacation. Am I really this big of a brat?!

The house we rented was simply beautiful.  The weather was next to perfect.  The company of family and friends was plentiful and pleasurable. What was the craziest part?  I took little to no photos.  This is very odd behavior for me and I don't quite know how to explain or justify it, other than the fact that it did feel more like a business trip.  Big Daddy only joined us for the weekends, so that added to the business trip feeling.  I didn't pack enough clothes, so the amount of laundry I did also made it feel like home away from home and not in a vacation-y way.  The house was lovely, so I did an inordinate amount of cleaning trying to keep it as nice as we found it.

We rented the house from a family who lives on the cape year round and have decided to go RV-ing for a year.  They are homeschooling their kids and visiting all the national monuments, big citys and parks.  What envy I feel.  They rented their home, as stated on their blog, not only to help cover costs of the trip but to also remove the option to bail out of their plan.  If their home is rented, they can't call it quits and go home.  Love it.

I am sorry I didn't take photos of the house - it was a simply stunning, custom built, perfectly appointed arts and crafts bungalow.  Drat.  I took the boys to Race Point, twice and again, took no photos.  Dang it.  We went to Provincetown twice, no documentation.  Spent time in Wellfleet, went to the Chartroom, ate at lobster shacks - you name it we did it and not one shred of proof....

I took this one photo at White Crest Beach in Wellfleet part of the Cape Cod National Sea Shore:

It was my first visit there and was stunning to say the least.  I obviously didn't read the fine print on this beach where the website says:

White Crest

A beautiful beach with towering sand dune cliffs. The waters at White Crest Beach (also called Four Mile Beach and Surfer's Beach) are rougher, making it ideal for the surfers who often flock here. Hang gliders are allowed before 9am and after 5pm. Facilities include restrooms, a concession stand, and lifeguards. Parking fees are $15 per day at the large lot. Please note that White Crest is not the greatest place to bring young children, senior citizens, or the disabled, as a steep dune path with no staircase leads down to the beach. How to get there: Take Cahoon Hollw Road off Route 6 in Wellfleet. At end, take a right on Ocean View Drive and follow to end

That would have been good to know since I took 2 children and 2 senior citizens.  The children LOVED running up and down the cliff, my 6 year old sprinted up and down nothing short of 15 times (he's a blur in the above photo).  My father didn't much care for the hike back up, sinking up to his knees under the weight of coolers, chairs and umbrellas...... but we all survived and might just even go back.

With that little chunk of summer behind us we are packing for the real vacation, and happy it's been raining for days - must mean clear skies ahead!

 

 

Being Invincible

Oh save my soul.....we have welcomed a canine into our family.  Vince, the invincible is in the house.  Vince is not your average dog, he is a dog we have been waiting 8 years to adopt.  Waiting that is, longer than he has been alive.

When I was pregnant with my older son I heard about the Released Dog Program at Guiding Eyes For the Blind.  Dogs are released from the seeing eye dog program for a host of reasons (fears, behavior, medical etc) and clearly the released dogs need homes.  Guiding Eyes breeds their owns dogs, raises them from puppies (actually puppy raising families do that job) they attend guide dog school, graduate and go on for a life of service.  Many, for obvious reasons don't make the cut.

The average wait time to be matched with a dog is 5 years, but when 5 years found me with a 5 year old and 3 year old I declined my match (Sheldon - can't believe I remember that).  This past February we decided the time was finally right, as right as right can be.  We reactivated our status on the waiting list.  A week ago Sunday we drove to New York to claim the Invincible.....

Vinny my boy is remarkably handsome, very well trained and has house manners that are simply mind blowing.  Vince did work as a seeing eye dog for 6 months, but it seems he has decided that a life of service is not the life for him.  Vince wants to be free.  Actually he really, really wants to be free.  His reason for being released is that he "bolts" whenever he sees the chance.  He assess the situation, sees an opportunity and goes for it.  It's odd really that a dog that can practically use the phone and drive a car will take off and not come when called 'cause he really really really wants to go on an unsanctioned adventure.  We have our work cut out for us, but as far as I see it, the real dirty work is done.

We are all settling in, and I think it's safe to say .... More to come.....

Bicycle Co-Op

I have an old hand-me-down bike that has served me rather well over the years.  The problem was, it was not much of a pleasure to ride.  It was used by me on a begrudgingly, as need basis only.  The seat hurt my seat to say the least and the classic "lean to the handle bar" position has never been pleasant on my aching back.

Would a new bike help?  I had to wonder.  My New England summers offer many glorious biking occasions that I long to take advantage of, in a more pleasurable way.  In my own town, for instance, I enjoying walking to do my errands, but how dreamy to bike and do the same.  My little men are always more interested if it's a bike trip.

I started looking at bikes, the sit-straight-up-beach-comber bikes that Martha's Vineyard tourist brochures are iconic for is what I had in mind.  Most I found were far too expensive for my budget or desire.  All I had found left me with an undeniable "not a chance".

Then I went to Target.  Oh my.  There it was, the perfect-for-me-bike at a much better price (and I know much less quality but 'tis not really part of my "need"), still I was having a hard time justifying the splurge.

Talked to my friend Kerrie who was about to go on vacation and found out how much bike rental would be on the Vineyard for a week - guess what - it was exactly 1/2 the cost of buying the Target bike.  Our master minds decided to buy the bike together and each of us (luckily with no travel overlap) would take it on our summer excursions.  Genius!

Could you die?  Vintage inspired, white walls and all.  When I peddled down our street the first time my 8-year old claimed: "You look like an old-timey lady mommy".  "Great", I responded, "That is just what I am going for".  I can only hope his minds eye was seeing Gidget or That Girl and not the old mean lady from the Wizard of Oz.

My bicycle sharing friend has enjoyed a week of peddling around Martha's Vineyard already and told me how she decorated it for the 4th of July.  She sent me this photo:

I can see how the Inn behind her is decked out in all of it's glory, the bike I am not so sure is living up to it's potential.  I rather had something more like this in mind:

Se la vie, next year I'll make sure I get the bike for the 4th! 

We did add the sassy Nantucket Bike Basket - it removes easily, and has a handle for your hydrangea picking needs or farmers market shopping, oh the joy!

Aside from the huge spring loaded seat and white wall tires I think I might just like the handlebars the most with their gushy, handstiched-esque, leather-esque details.  Coulda fooled me, they feel like the real deal.

Did you want to see the basket again?

Teavana, Teavana, TEAVANA!

I can't count the number of times I have briskly walked passed the Teavana store in the mall.  Never have I had any slight sense of an urge to enter.  I don't really drink tea and I certainly had no need for swanky chain store mall tea ..... OMG until now.

I went to a very casual evening gathering at my friend Miss Anna's house last week.  Miss Anna, among many things is an absolute master at ambiance.  She is an incredible hostess, phenomenal cook, master gardener the list continues to no end.  She brings passion to all her living works and is truly an inspiration on the "good things" as well as doing things well, beyond well.  I learn much from her always.

Last week she served tea.  Big deal, tea.  She made me drink it (I'm trying to not drink alcohol right now as part of my skinner me mission, beer & wine are just too full of calories).  It was divine.  Not just the tea itself but her ceremony of it, the presentation, her knowledge.  We had so much conversation about tea, who knew.

She came to my house Saturday night and brought her tea and making supplies.  We made tea and drank it and it was lovely.  Sunday I found myself thrilled that I had not emptied all the glasses from the porch.  Like a scavenger, I found the 3 nearly emptied glasses and pitcher all with a bit left. I shamelessly dumped them into one glass and iced them.  Divine.  I found myself craving more of it and Monday morning could take it no more.  Miss Anna and I needed to go on a field trip.

Teavana, Teavana, TEAVANA!!!!!! - where have you been all my life!  It's timely really, my new introduced tea drinking fits perfectly into my "Being Better" mission;  put good quality things into my body, waste less, add ceremony, slow down and embrace great pleasure in the simple things.  This new tea obsession is all that and more.

I'm not a huge soda drinker, but when I want a beverage other than coffee or water it's what I drink (Polar diet orange is my poison of choice) the wastefulness of single serve aluminum cans has been bothering me greatly.  Sometimes I drink crystal light lemonade - but lets face it - I am flavoring water with a little chemical pack.  ew. 

Yesterday I marched into Teavana, purchased a teapot infuser steeper thingy, chose some lovely cleansing and detoxing teas and made a list of the many more to try next time (IE Muscle relaxing tea to improve my yoga practice, wowsers).  I ran home, decanted the teas into vintage mason jars (not a sanctioned container by Teavana, but I do like to break rules),

It wears vintage well wouldn't you agree? I downloaded the Teavana Tea Time App and steeped my first batch of tea. 

The app perfectly times the steep of each specific tea as well as playing tranquil music while you wait.  The ceremony begins, I am in love.

I have been coveting a large blue vintage mason jar having not found anything quite worthy of it's use....until now:

The blue jar holds the day's batch nice and cold in the fridge and awaits for me to decant my day long desires.

So that is it.  Tea, Tea, Tea. I really do love all this bettering and now that the day's tea is made I have much to do!

Chicken Love

I think I need to raise chickens, actually I'm quite certain of it. Admittedly, I have a few things to sort out first.  One is my obvious backyard Fox infestation.  Second is the doing it.  I have found out that raising chickens is allowed in our town after the acquisition of appropriate permit.  Third, we'd need a coop - so many to drool over all over the web. Finally, and the biggest, the actual commitment.

Had dinner with a great group of women (all local ETSY sellers) last week and one told me of how she rent chickens from a local farm.  Chickens arrive in their mobile coop complete with food and instructions.  You care for them, harvest the eggs and chickens get returned at the end of your rental period.  ARE YOU KIDDING ME?  Perfect, mostly since Big Daddy is not quite certain of my latest obsession... at all.  So happy to learn of a training program with built in return policy.  {Farm is Land's Sake in Weston Ma}.  I have also worried about chickens surviving the winter here - getting them from a local farm should assure they are new england hearty.

It all boils down to the fact that I want fresh eggs.  Fresh eggs is number one and as part of my quest to Be Better.  A big item on my list is that I want to buy less and less from the grocery store, from any store for that matter.  I want my family to connect more with the food we eat.

I read a great article in Organic Gardening this month and there was  little snippet that said it all, thank you for confirming my obsession with the need for chickens:

***

Pulling a warm egg from beneath a broody hen is a magical thing:  the ruffled murmur as she relinquishes; the egg's oval perfection, it's bone-smooth promise.  And fitting so perfectly in the palm of the hand as though the relationship between laying and gather always was.

But when a new CSA member stopped by this week to say hello, I was unprepared for the power and imprint of memory on her visit.  She had grown up on a farm in Iowa, and her connection to that time seemed to rill through her as we did our walkabout.  On the way out, we visited the hens in the "Cage Aux Fowl."  On putting a warm egg in her palm, she began to cry softly.  Clearly, the evocation was almost too much.  There was one awkward silence as she held the egg - and her childhood - in her hand and struggled for composure.  But she seemed grateful for the connection that the experience summoned up.

 

 - journal entry title: Magical Realism, From the Article The Accidental Farmer,

    Organic Gardening April-Sept 2011

 

 

Sign me up!  Rest assured, I'll keep you posted!

 

Being Better

I suppose it matters what you tune into these days, I seem to be sniffing out sources of information that leave me wanting to be better;  do better, eat better, live better, raise my children better, keep home better.  It's stressful to say the least and I've been getting a little wigged out by all the better I want to be doing. 

Yesterday I took on one of many things on my long list of bettering-to-dos.  It was easy, more than easy, it was quick and the children even engaged and got involved.  I could have cried.

We made our own laundry detergent.  Why did we make our own laundry detergent?  Here's the short list: store bought laundry detergent is expensive, store bought laundry detergent comes in a ridiculous amount of packaging, store bought laundry detergent and it's components have been shipped (globally and coast to coast) no less than 5 times before it reaches my home.  I have to get in my car and go to a store, again and again to get store bought laundry detergent.  This is the short list.

It was easy to find many sites with recipes for home made laundry soap and after clicking through many of them I realize most are strikingly similar.  I decided to make this one.

The ingredients are simple:

yes, I did have to go to the store and buy these ingredients, however what you see here (and more bars of fels-naptha bar soap) together I am guessing will make more than 15 batches (4 gallons each) of homemade laundry detergent.  I spent $9 on the ingredients.  I'd have to guess that it is enough for a years worth of laundry detergent for $9.  That blows doors on extreme coupon-ing.  I rock.

The process took all of about 15 minutes and surprise, surprise the boys did the whole thing.  They never help me cook, but couldn't resist this project.  It went off like this:

 

grate the soap

measure

pour

more pouring

mix, stir and melt

add the rest

stir some more, pour some more and you are done!

 The detergent needed to sit a spell so it can turn to gel. 

Package it up (vintage mason jars, while preferable, are optional)

Call me crazy but I think that is a whole lot of laundry soap (less than 1/2 is shown), cheap and easy.  Maybe, just maybe, being better actually is better (just hope it works at least as well, if not better than the store kind....).

Reading Much Lately?

One might think I am conducting research.  Maybe I am.  My findings have me all fired up.  I feel empowered, ready for serious action, mad, excited, proud, eager ... all sorts of things. 

** I have intentionally not linked the books to a purchase site -  I do not intend to promote that you purchase them or if you want to, where you should.

 

Here is the short list:  The Price of Privilege

Don't let the name fool you.  Living in this country is privilege, and the wisdom of this book applies to any income bracket.  It's not how much money you have, it's how you spend it or how you "spend" what you have on your kids.  Best said review here

 

Revolution in the Bleachers:  I foresee being at war with Big Daddy on this topic for years to come, I have done my research and am ready for battle.  Many parts of this book made me gasp for breath, cry, cringe, nearly vomit and for the most part, hate the generation of parents I am among.  Great summary here.

Last Child in the Woods Author Richard Louv knew just what I've been preaching and pleading.... Here is the author's overview.

The Happiness Project.  Love it.  Author, Gretchen Rubin has a blog that brings it to life. Learning much, implementing much.  Good darn knowledge.  My own project has begun.

Mind in the Making.  Still working on this one, I keep get interrupted by others....still well worth it, can't wait to make the time to finish.

Game On - I also didn't get to finish this one, yet.  It was due back to library before complete - I plan to check it out again ....  Great praise and quotes here,  Synopsis here.  I need to get my copy back.

 

Many above were suggested reading from The Race to Nowhere site.

Related titles I have loved from previous reading journeys Include:  all by Dr. Michael Thompson, The Blessing of a Skinned Knee, by Wendy Mogel, Consuming Kids (and all by Susan Lin) to mention a few.

The connectedness of them is all quite startling.  It's easy for me as much of it confirms my intuition, my gut on how to do this thing called parenting, raising boys, all the rest. Though each time I pick one up and dive back in I get so much.  The problem is I feel I am at battle, waging war with the Joneses you might say.  They, The Joneses, are a plentiful and mighty army and at most times I feel alone with my convictions.  If the Joneses would stop all their foolishness my life sure would be a lot easier.  I also feel at battle with my husband.  Big D has a tendency to worry about those damn Joneses too much in my opinion and is not ready to concede to the conclusiveness of my research.

The Happiness Project encourages me to take more notes, even if I don't know the purpose of said note taking.  I've read so many books and learned so much but it feels like it's all melted into one puddle in my brain.  I can't think of one fact to quote when I need to.  The Happiness Project also encourages me (this is my reading of it) to write a book.  Not so much that I need to publish it, just write it.  I think I agree.  I think I might take notes on my research, organize it, come to fact based conclusions and put it into one nice, easy to read, self published book.

OMG - I can do it and give it to big D for fathers day! When is father's day? How long does it take to receive said self published book once written?  Happiness Project says I should spend no more than 30 days writing my book, done.  I have a project to do (maybe I really can "publish" it here at home since time is of the essence).  Better get on it, people's lives are at stake!

 

Why Are You Taking Pictures?

There was a parade in our town yesterday.   My kids were in the parade so I was essentially on the sidelines alone, awaiting their arrival.  Keeping myself busy, I was taking tons and tons and tons of photos.  A neighbor, who was there with her young kids, asked me why I was taking so many photos.

The question struck me in such an odd way?  Why not?  I dunno know.  Hmmmmm, I like taking photos?  She asked if I was taking them so I could show my kids since they were missing watching the parade.  I thought about this.  It's not really why I was taking the photos, but I was sure I would show them.  She asked what I was going to do with the photos.  Again, mind blank..... I dunno, was my only response.

It felt so odd to be questioned, perhaps because I had never really thought about it.  Some people just like to take photos, some don't?  I couldn't grasp the question, let alone my response.   Some don't consider taking photos of things that their kids aren't standing in front of?  Why was I taking them?  What is my answer?  Do I need one.  Should I know? Good grief, it was messing with me.

I came to the simple decision upon walking home and  still pondering the questioning.  Finally, I came to it.  I am photographer.  I've never called myself that, never felt the need.  Do I need some qualification or credential?  Apparently not.  I just love taking photos, I always have. I do lots of things with many of my photos, and sometimes do nothing with them. 

At any rate, I am more compelled than ever to share the fruits of yesterday's pleasures:

I thought these two guys (above and below looked strikingly weary, and perhaps fresh from battle)

I had the opportunity to meet and speak with the proud wife of the man above.  He is the oldest WWII veteran who lives in our town.  He is a doctor who worked in plastic surgery for WWII injured soldiers, this when plastic surgery was new and being developed by immediate need.  His work continued to pioneer organ transplantation where he earned the Nobel Prize for the first ever kidney transplant.  I am filled with joy that I took his photo, met his wife and have the opportunity to be proud of him on so many vast levels.  He is 98 years old and lives around the corner from me, who knew.

Above are all of my "friends" who volunteer at the recycling center (the source of most of my finds of the week) Love them one and all!

Lastly, the photo with my kids.  Need I express how happy I am that this is not the only photo I took of the day?  How often do these sights present themselves?  How often do I get the opportunity to photograph these subjects and scenes?  How much joy do I gain from looking at the images now and will in the future?  All are questions I need not ponder.  I do it, I like it.  I wanna do it some more!

 

Can Bikram Heal Me?

Ever done Bikram Yoga? 

My friend Elizabeth introduced me to this yoga in January and I was a quick addict.  Problem was, I was in the midst of my full body overhaul and was already going to the gym 3 days a week, then going to Bikram 3 days a week. Something had to give. 

Lo and behold my body is failing me and now the gym is on freeze and I await the results of an MRI.  The instructors at our Bikram studio asked Elizabeth where I had been, she told them about my back ailments and they were adamant that I return ASAP.  Of the many claims made by the Bikram community, healing is top of the list.

Plow through the Bikram website, read the testimonials, talk to an instructor and you will be amazed to hear the claims.  Today I am going back.  I haven't exercised in two weeks, I am in rather constant discomfort, if not pain, and feel like a huge load.

When I was actively doing Bikram I was also actively not blogging.  I wanted to blog about it, crafted many posts and witty comments in my head.  It's a unique place, philosophy, experience.  It's hot yoga, yes, but very different form mainstream hot yoga or any other yoga for that matter.  The room is hotter for one, there is no namaste.  A Bikram class is the exact same 26 postures in the exact same order each and every time - there are loads of reasons why. Everything (down to the floor covering) has specific purpose. The instructors talk, correct and coach constantly, it keeps your mind from wandering, keeps you on task. 

I always found it so funny that their outwardly spoken words were eerily responsive to the voice in my head.  While in some spinal searing back bend I would be whining to myself "I don't know if I should be doing this, this really hurts my back"  then, if like magic, the instructor would say aloud to the class "Your back is supposed to hurt like hell"  - "oh, Ok good", I could reply to myself,  "I must be doing it right".

Their cued responses to my internal whining also lead me to some funny thoughts: 

As holding the spread leg bent over, touch your head to floor thing I would be wondering to myself If I could actually drown from the sweat pouring into my nose? The instructors never mentioned that one, but would remind us that if we took a break to mop sweat then the posture had not begun, sweat wiping time wasters.

Can it heal me, as their testimonials claim? I don't know.  What I do know is that I am going to sweat my way into certain dehydration today (Pedialyte awaits me at home) and that will surely feel nothing but good.