Yoga and Weekend Goodness

On the way to one morning this week, a Fleetwood Mac song started playing and I started thinking how I rather enjoy Fleetwood Mac for like one song.  Then after that it just gets too much of the same for me.  Cue guitar and raspy voice here.  But one song I'm all about.  Back in the day, every once in awhile, I would get a random hey you look like Stevie Nicks and I would be all hmmmm I should know who that is right?  

I do know now.  Not sure I look like her either.  But one song of listening I will do.  

Wednesday night Karen and I tried two different new classes, Booty Barre and Yoga.  I'm capitalizing yoga there because I feel like it needed it.  I'm feeling the itch to stretch my repertoire of working out options as running and muscle pump class have been it for about two years now, and I have this odd sensation to try new.  I also know how important stretching is and I do not do it; I jump on the treadmill, do my run, and jump off the treadmill.  Real healthy I tell you.  And don't even get me started on my flexibility, more specifically my lack thereof.  It's similar to a board, an actual wood board.

Booty Barre was fantastic!  Love loved it as it concentrates on remaining tall and works the posture, hiney, legs, and arms all at the same time.  The remaining tall portion was quite possibly my favorite.  I often have strange anxiety about hunchbacks.

That class was from 6:15-7:00 with yoga starting at 7:00 so we stayed through.  Then hilarity broke out because if you know me or you know Karen or you happen to know both of us, you know our strengths do not lie in remaining quiet, calm, nor still.

The instructor guy was rather intense and gave us a ten minute lecture before hand about how if things hurt, then we were to say "or not" to the pose.  This in itself started my inner inappropriate giggle.

Then it started.  Turns out Karen can't sit cross legged, which is apparently a key yoga pose.  Insert inappropriate giggles here.  Then I fell over from concentrating so very hard.  Like fell completely over.  Karen said she wanted to yell, "Timberrrrr."  But felt that would get us in more trouble.  At 7:50, after doing all kinds of things like holding and rocking our leg like a baby, we both looked at each other like okay we can do this for ten more minutes.  Yes we can.

But then.  Then!  He kept going.  And going and going.  At 8:15, we were lying on the floor with the lights completely off and hoopa music playing.  I have no words for it other than hoopa.  He proceeded to talk us through relaxing and clenching each muscle in our body, in a slow drawn out melodramatic voice.  I kept my eyes closed and tried super hard to get into this relaxing portion of the class.  Then, I made the mistake of opening my eyes and looking over at Karen, only to find her looking right back at me with a look which was precisely how I was feeling.

We lost it.

I whispered to her, "What time does this get over?  Ten?"

We lost it again.

Now mind you this, I really believe yoga is a fantastic thing to do with one's body and mind and soul and spirit and all other hoopa aspects of our being.  I really do.

I just need to be more prepared the next time I go.  As in, I need to know it will last an hour and a half.  I need to know that my feet will be bare and people around me will take inhaling and exhaling very serious like.  I need to know the instructor is like a mix between a counselor and a fitness instructor.  I need to know I will straight up fall over when trying to put my elbow on the floor while my one foot is the air and my other hand is behind my head.  I will.

My body is rather sore now two days after, so I feel Booty Barre and Yoga did some good.  And I do think I'd be a much taller stander and move my flexible as a board status to more of a flexible as a piece of beef jerky if I kept at it.

I just have to make sure I never make eye contact with Karen throughout the entire ninety minutes.  Not once, not ever.

Shoulder shaking, inappropriate giggling is our strong point and still, quiet, and calm are not.  Therefore, no eye contact.

I started this with Fleetwood Mac and went to fitness classes in the middle and now I'm ending with how lovely my last weekend was as we are the midst of a new one.  A long weekend with most of my family (we missed the rest!) was just what the doctor ordered.  There was life talks and singing loudly in the car.  Then, power shopping with my mom and sister.  A sushi lunch with Sister Pister before everyone else arrived.  Even more eating, this time brunch with everyone which happens to be my favorite meal ever.  Time spent at Sister Pister's apartment with her being all hostess with the mostess.  There was a win in Bingo!  A movie was attended.  It was just plain fabulous.

And now it's Saturday afternoon and I have cinnamon raisin bread doing its thing in the kitchen with no plans on the agenda for the rest of today, other than When Harry Met Sally paired with a glass of wine.  Yes please.

 

Dad, forgive me for this picture of you with bacon in your mouth and instead focus on the fellowship of my people on a Sunday morning with pretty sunlight streaming in.  

An Obvious Correlation

The mirrors in the men's bathrooms are more flattering, like by a landslide.  Don't ask me how I know this...I just do.  Men are on to something as evidenced by the following two truth nuggets.  They have tilted mirrors, or some other form of fun house style I'm not aware, in their bathrooms to visually lean the body out.  And then you know how some of them do that trick where they wear their pants with a belt up on the middle of their port belly so from the front they look like a cut in half svelte man but then, but then, when they turn to the side it's like they put a rubber band on an egg?  A rubber band on an egg.  You know that one right?  

I don't know how a woman could re-create that look because well...I just don't.  Titled mirrors though!  We could do that one!  

There's nowhere else to go with this other than to talk about soup.  

Clearly.  

In specific, soup out of Grandma Gladys's stainless steel pot.  It really just brings me such joy to chop vegetables and get them going in her pot.  The soup cooking with the smell wafting, knowing it's a piece from her.  Such joy.

Taking pictures of things with sunlight streaming in on a Sunday afternoon also brings me a silly amount of joy.  

This soup recipe goes something like this:

Cut up whatever vegetables you have in the fridge.  This time it was carrots, celery, leeks, brussel sprouts, kale, and a sweet potato.  Heat up olive oil in the bottom of the pot and then saute in the veggies in a smart order with salt and pepper.  Like first the carrots, leek, and celery and then add the brussel sprouts and then the kale with some crushed garlic.

Once your veggies are all sauteed, add chicken or turkey soup stock and the seasonings of thyme, bay leaves, and parsley.  Finally throw in the sweet potato chunks.  If you wanted to add noodles or rice or something else carbo-esque, go for it.

Meat or no meat?  Totally your choice.  It's a soup.  It's not fancy, nor does it have rules.  Cook it on low until you can't stand not eating it anymore. 

Such joy I tell you.  
  

From Tuesday to a Different Tuesday

On Tuesday, in a parking lot at o' dark thirty, I had a mild panic attack.  

It went something like this.  

Car was running.  Of course it was running as we are in week twenty-seven of below temperatures so starting the car is routine.  

I hit unlock on the fob and nothing.  

I had just finished my morning run so I was sweaty which made the bitter cold all the worse.  I was shaking, holding my tennies, and frantically clicking the unlock.  Nothing.  

Panic attack.  I almost ran after Karen's car as it drove away...

And then I used the key.  

Funny how technology can ruin us.  

Keys!  They still work!  Even if the fob doesn't.  

On a different Tuesday, on the drive out to my brother and sister-in-law's house, I commented several times about the sky being pretty and the drive feeling relaxing.  Does sitting in a passenger seat feel so darn good to anyone else out there?  Might just be my favorite decompressing time. 

When the sky is pretty, it's not just relaxing but also worthy of pulling over.  

Then we carried on our way to celebrate birthdays for Momma Debi and my older brother with family visits and cheesecake.  

There you have two different stories about Tuesdays.