confessions of a newbie yogi

Let's get the good news out of the way: I survived! Which seems like nothing short of a miracle, thank you God for small favors. Like I said, I'd never really done any yoga before, other than wayyy back in the high school days (how is it five years ago already?!?) so my expectations of myself were low, to say the least. This is sort of what I was expecting:

Thankfully, it wasn't like that. At all. Although there was an old guy in short shorts and no shirt ... *shudder* 

Oddly enough, and unlike any other yoga I've attempted over the years, Bikram worked for me. The heat, the stretching, the internal focus, and the way it all combined into a seamless 90 minutes was perfect for me. I read a comment board where at least ten people documented - in detail - how sick they got taking Bikram, how they passed out, how they were nauseous, etc, which was obviously terrifying. Fortunately the instructor wasn't a yogi Nazi like some I read about, and laying down was totally allowed during the session. Which a lot of people took advantage of, but I found I didn't need at all. Even though those 90 minutes were sweaty, and strenuous to the max, I found that as we got further into the sequence of movement, my body just sort of figured out what to do, and went with it. It was pretty damn cool. 

But, some words of advice:
DO drink PLENTY of water, before, and during if you need to
DO figure out - quickly - how to deeply breathe
DO NOT worry about how much you're sweating, because everyone else is just as gross
DO NOT make fun of the poses, or laugh in the back of the class
DO repeat the instructor's "namaste" every time she says it
DO NOT make the other people in your class mad by snorting when asked to do ridiculous poses

and lastly, advice from Amy: "Do not eat Taco Bell within the hour before your class starts. Just don't. " Which, when it comes to Bikram, might be the best advice I've gotten yet. 

a newbie yogi's last wish

Forty minutes until imminent death.

One of my friends at work coerced me into signing up for a free Bikram Yoga class tonight. I didn’t really know what Bikram is, I just remembered yoga classes in high school where you got to fall asleep at the end for a few minutes while you were “breathing through the soles of your feet” or whatever. After I was good and signed up I figured I should probably do some Goolge-ing and find out just what it was I’d signed up for.

And hello, terrifying? They have you in this hot room, like one hundred degrees plus, doing all these crazy poses and moves and the whole 90 minutes you’re there, you’re sweating profusely and trying not to get overheated and die. Not exactly my idea of fun. They tell you to make sure you arrive hydrated so you don’t pass out, and bring water with you. Check. I’ve had so much water today that my insides slosh when I move.

Honestly, it would be funny if it weren’t so terrifying.

If this is my last post ever, I guess it would have been a little more deep and insightful, but I suppose I’ll just leave it with my final wish (because everyone knows that anything on the internet it must be true):

Lord, if I die tonight, please let some kind soul push my sweaty body to off my mat and to the side of the room so as not to be trampled by other sweaty bodies and feet, and let me lie there in peace, Amen. 

while mommy's away: this n' that thursday

Last night I had the absolute pleasure of watching this little monkey for one of my work friends while she was gallivanting around town, watching Spamalot with her parents. I love kids. Absolutely adore them. And this little dude is one of the cutest ones ever.

This: After three hours of playing pirate kings, building ships out of sofa cushions, reading elephant and little owl books, cuddling, and tucking one very sleepy little boy into bed, I caught myself thinking, maybe I could actually do this someday. For real. Scary thought ... and a good reminder to keep those ovaries in check. For now, anyway.

That: Tomorrow is finally (finally!) the day I get to go to San Diego! There's a giant snowstorm heading up the east coast - for some reason, they named this one Nemo? - and I'm so glad to be missing it. My bikini is packed, and you can bet I'll be on the beach, even if it's only sixty degrees and no one else is there. It's happening. 

Also, I've kind of been thinking about getting a Twitter account? Is it too late to jump on the bandwagon? Do I have thoughts that can be condensed into 140 characters or less?

These are the important questions in life.

Here and There

I have been horrendous at this lately. Complete merde. I don't know what it is but it doesn't seem to be going away on its own, this lack of motivation thing, so I think sometimes you just have to force these things. 

One can fake gusto, right? Right. 

I'm not sure I like what this space has been, and I'm not quite sure what I want it to be so, you know, we're sort of in a winter limbo here. 

The best and worst blogging days are when you have no set plan as you log in, just that you have something to say darn it, and you're going to write it. Those are one of my favorite things to read on other people's blogs - the word vomit, train of thought, run on sentences that sometimes make no sense and are often hilarious and usually make you go, hey, me too! Solidarity, that's where it's at. 

I hate my blog design. It needs to be fixed, and I have no idea where to start. It's like those days when nothing you try on looks right and you just give up because really, it's too depressing to keep on keeping on. Blog problems.

I'm convinced Urban Outfitters knows how to push my buttons. They just know. 

Well hello there. 

A and I have been talking about what we want to do once he graduates. Since he lives a whole state and a two hour drive away, and we would like to be closer than that, I guess it's due time for thinking about adult things. It's been an on and off topic since I graduated, but now that we're looking at a deadline of sorts, we're kind of freaking out. At least, I am. There's just been so many "adult" type decisions lately that I'm having a hard time dealing with any of them.

Denial, it's not such a bad place to be.

It leads to a lot of cuddle time with kitties and yoga pants and eating all the Girl Scout cookies you ordered at one time.

How many months is it til swim suit season? 

working backwards

Some days I just look at my job and feel like banging my head against a wall. Four years at a private, liberal arts college, being told I could do whatever I wanted, and here I sit, 5 days a week, in a tiny cubicle, counting down til 5 o’clock. #frustration And while I know very well that better things are ahead and that this is only a short phase in what is (hopefully) a long and productive adult life, some days you just want to scream. Anyone else?

In any event, I promised you guys a recap of life for the past month or so, and I fully intend to do that. So let’s start with this:

Yup. My beloved Walter finally met his match via deer. Last Thursday, to be exact. So we’re sort of moving backwards down the old timeline, but bear with me. The death of Walter (RIP) sort of put a kibosh on my plans for the weekend (including finally making it to the Pennsylvania State Farm Show), and after several days of pouring gallon after gallon of antifreeze into him just to get to work, my dad finally agreed to go car shopping.

And after one test drive and one agonizing night of decision making, I’m coming home with this beauty in a few days:

My first grown-up car. (For some reason, the name Frankie is coming to mind?) Granted, it was a pretty quick decision, but no one was offering to buy me a new Mazda3 (dream car), and I'm a firm believer in the old adage that when you know, you know.

So, welcome to the family, Frankie. And please, for the love of God - no deer. Because I already had to sell my unborn first child just to own you.

well, hey there

I'll just go ahead and say it - a month's plus hiatus does not a great blogger make. 

I'll also say this - one day, I woke up, looked at my blog, and didn't feel like writing. I didn't feel like anything. And for the next month I just ... didn't. Once in a while I would pop in to check in on all your lives and see what was going on, but it was honestly a really nice break.

Turns out that when you're busy making your own life happen, there isn't so much time for blogging. But I have SO much to share with you all, starting tomorrow. Hope you're all ready for a major life spill.

And that all your new years are starting out grandly :)

My thoughts on being a “Work Wife”

Good news! I’m married!

Did I shock you there? No? Okay. Moving on.

Someone, please please please tell me that I’m not the only one this has happened to. I’ve heard the term before, of course, but until I used the mighty resources of The Almighty Google, I had no idea just how common this was. Googling the term brings up not only the expected Wikipedia article, but tons of personal essays and blogging rants. Some of them are absolutely hilarious. You want to see some very angry women? Google “work wives” and read some of the top hits. (I’m aware this may be offensive to some people, but it takes very little to offend me. So read on with a grain of salt).

I didn’t become aware that I was a “work wife” until late last week. We’re going through a huge merger at my office, and things have become tense this month (to say the least). People taking sides, people stealing offices and hating new bosses and trash talking everyone they can. And because we have a relatively small company – and workspace – shiz has been hitting the fan, big time.

But I know that someone always has my back – and that’s Jake, who, for the sake of argument, I’m going to call my work husband. Jake and I are relatively close in age and work in close proximity on an almost daily basis. I do work for a lot of different divisions within our company and Jake is the director of one of those divisions. He has a live-in girlfriend, Katie, who is absolutely awesome. She’s one of those people who you might be really, really good friends with if you had the chance, you know? Jake and I get along famously, but it wasn’t until last week that I had this epiphany. Here’s the evidence of my position as a “work wife:”

Example A: Jake will call me anytime between 7 and 530 with questions like, “can you stick up for me in the meeting tomorrow? I can’t be there.” Which I always do. Given, of course, that he’s right. And if he’s not, I let him know.

Example B: Jake brought me muffins, freshly baked by his girlfriend, when I was having a shitty week. (They were delicious) It’s become sort of a running joke. Oh, you want me to do that write-up for you? It’ll cost two muffins.

Example C: Jake and I are going to San Diego in February for a business conference. Jake’s girlfriend, Katie, is surprisingly okay with this, and told him off for not signing me up months ago.

Example D: I expect Jake to be available for personal venting moments between the hours of 7 and 530 every week day. And he always is. The same goes for when he needs to vent, or needs to be “talked down.”

Example E: Jake and I hate the same people.

Honestly, the last might be the most important of these. It’s sort of how working with my brother would be, I think. And in an office full of increasingly catty people, it’s nice to know that someone has your back, regardless. If they bring you muffins, it sort of seals the deal. The more thought I’ve given this, the more I like the concept. Given the obvious – that there’s no kind of attraction or other feelings involved – it’s sort of like having an ally in an office-oriented game of RISK.

So here’s the big question – what do you guys think about this? Ever experienced it yourselves? Deplore it?

Spill.