Yoga Soup

I went to yoga today. Going to this particular class is kind of like going to Spain. You took all those years of Spanish and yet you have no idea what a single person in the whole country is saying. I have been practicing yoga on and off for 10 years and when I go to Willow-with-the-ridiculously-amazing-body's class I feel like I can hardly even get into downward dog.

But I do it and it feels good. I try not to stare at my stomach in the mirror. I swear they tell you to close your eyes so you don't obsess about yourself. I did pretty good today. And I ran my first mile since I hurt my ankle back in June. At the end of the class they throw this magic dust around that makes you able to pass out on a cold floor after your class. I have chronic insomnia but I can always zen out after a yoga class. Queer.

When I was at the height of my relaxation I awoke to the loudspeaker. "The kids club is now closed. Please come pick up your children." Oops.

I walked in pissy and I left happy. I ate soup. Today is alright.