Old School

 Jam on it.
If you don't admit you remember this song you are WEAK and a LIAR.
Three words to the whack, step yourself back
Just gettin' down, and you then you're givin' no slack
Like a Burger King with a sack of Big Macs
We're throwin' down with the radical sacks
On time, in your mind you see
You gotta boogie to your best ability
You gotta funk it up until it knocks you down
And when you're funkin' up, be sure to pass it around
Come on, let's go to work
We got what'll make your body jerk
Make you throw your hands up in the air
Shake your booty and scream, "Oh, yeah"
?Cause we are the Jam On Crew
And jammin' on it is how we do the do
We'll funk you up until you boogie down
So come people check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound, check out the sound
Check out the sound

Newcleus

This is not my Yoga Teacher Training class, but it could be. 
WE ARE ALL OLD SCHOOL. 

We are old and WE  HAVE HOMEWORK.

Like the student I used to be I started right away.

Only this time I'm not distracted by $5.00 pitchers of watery stale beer at JM's.  I actually want to do it.

Our YTT homework includes 5 minutes of mandatory meditating.  That's right.  Sitting still, visualizing, breathing and thinking about NOTHING.  It's much harder than it seems.  With the meditating comes chanting and I haven't brought myself to do it out loud yet since I get up early for this little solo party (no, not THAT kind). My family just may wonder even more deeply what up wit her?  Plus if they interrupted my flow I'd just say...

Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki

(Shut up)
Wikki-wikki-wikki-wikki

And they'd KNOW I was old school. 

Come on.  You know you SO remember this song even if you've grown up be the head of six corporations, a doctor, a lawyer, a priest, a teacher, a writer, a mother, lover, a friend, a social worker, a soul mate or a rapper.  You all have newcleus and you'll all be yogis and yoginis when I get done with you.  Word.

i say hip hop
 hippy to the hippity hip hip hop,
You don't stop rockin
to the bang, bang, boogie
say upchuck the boogie
to the rhythm, to the boogie the beat
say we are the jam on crew and jammin it on is the best we do.

 That was my chant in the early 80's.  What did you chant then?

Pull me, stretch me, heal me

So I can do the same to you.  As of Friday, I am a Yoga teacher in the making.  I started a YTT program through Yogaworks at a studio in Carytown.  Yogaworks blends Iyengar, Ashtanga, and Vingyasa styles of Hatha Yoga.  There's a strong meditative component to the curriculum too.  I am excited, overwhelmed, happy, filled, teary, nervous, vulnerable, thrilled over this journey.   I have 19 new friends and I think I love them all.  Doctors, cancer survivors, nurses, moms, grandmoms, dads, belly dancers comprise the group.  The process promises to be transformative. 

Alas, as indispensable as I think I am - my family survived just fine without me all weekend.  My 7 year-old daughter attended a wedding in the Outer Banks of North Carolina thanks to the kindness of our dear friends, Larry and Megan.

Mary Anne Kennelly Tysinger with Bibby, Maggie, and (my) Jane

Kathleen spent the weekend with my sister and her family and when I picked her up she didn't want to leave.  Love it!  Nicholas went hunting with Mike and watched college football (go JMU).  So you see, all that bending over backwards for them is not critical to any one's survival.  Except mine.   I'm up to 16 a day.

Finally, my hamstring is healed.  My Yoga teacher trainer, Jeanmarie Paolillo plugged my hip into it's socket with wild abandon and I have been pain-free ever since.  She is a saint and inspiring and beautiful and talented and funny and cool and so very good at what she does.  She is of service to her students.  I promise you, I will be too.  Let the healing begin!

What did you do this weekend?

Alicia Keys

Septemer 11, 2010
 I am not eloquent enough to bring us to a moment of remembrance on this day. I have been crying a lot lately though.  Time of year.  Time of the month.  Or it could be this.

Alicia Keys and Jay-Z

Empire State of Mind

Yankess vs. Phillies

Go to itunes and listen to Alicia Keys' solo version of this song.  It made me so sad for New York, you know - the person.  We all know The City never sleeps, has character, is vibrant and scary and overpopulated and nine years ago it got a heartbeat.  I want to wrap my arms around her and hold on.  I've been to Ground Zero where the sidewalks and streets are rich with the life lost, life present, and life to come.  I didn't know anyone personally who died in or around the Twin Towers or The Pentagon or the field in Pennsylvania.  With six degress of separation, we all knew someone.  I am sad for everyone's someone. 

 In Virginia, like in many places there was at moment of silence at 9:39 the minute the plane crashed into the target in our state.  My older two children were too young to remember it and my third wasn't on the planet yet.  I said they should just sit still and think about their freedom.  I thought I might pray specifically in words since I am never at a loss for them.  Instead, only Todd Beemer came to mind.  Everytime I say "Let's Roll" let it be a tribute to my friends New York, Virgnia and Pennsylvannia. 

Listen to Alicia Keys, she might make you cry too.  Today's the day for it. 

Donate to your local foodbank!

Winner and I want a new body

I love Mollie and Carlee Berry. Mollie eats frosting from the tub.  (Duh!, who doesn't?) She goes the extra mile and adds peanut butter.  Love the rawness of it all.  Carlee Berry looks so happy with cute Mike.  She makes me want to feel young and cool.  Surely my young coolness is somewhere in here.  Besides these unique tidbits that make their blogs fun and compelling, they made me feel loved.  Thanks, ladies.  You did a good thing by commenting on my blog.   I have to spread the love to Kassi, however - my winner.  She ran 2 miles and is working her way up to a 10k and I know she'll do it.  I love to see the enthusiasm and shine from a new goal.  Tenacity and persistence and stick-to-itiveness.  They deserve $40 and much much more.  We all wish you well, Kassi.  Send me your email address and I'll hook you up with the folks at CSN.  Enjoy that Dutch Oven!

And now...
I want a new body.  Surely, you are tired of hearing about my hamstring/hind quarters issues after my ill-advised Party Yoga trick.  I ran 4 measly miles on Friday and I didn't even recognize myself.  I felt like I had no stability in my hip joints and that I might buckle at any moment.  I did not feel weak or hungry or especially hot - just not in my own body.  I couldn't believe I ran 26.2 miles twice in six months and 13.1 miles 4 times in the same year while teaching exercise classes at the gym. Who was that girl?  Idid get some relief with use of some gimpy looking black hamstring tape...

It sends some kind of pain relief signal up to your brain to trick it into feeling better.  I can still do most of the things I did before but not nearly like I used to.  The flexibility is coming back, my spine is stronger and I am managing to shuffle out some miles but the pain when I drive is still unbearable.  White-knuckles.  Grit-yer-teeth pain.  Where is the badass I fancied myself?  If you knew me then, help me find her.  I want to spank myself for losing my groove on.  Dawg gone it.

Return to center.  Return to Yoga.  It cures a lot.  Just taking it's time with my poor aching butt.  Recognize what is and let it go.  A celebration of the present, whatever it may be.  Change your mind.  Change your life.  I'm getting all greased up here.  Get out of the way of your own ass and live, baby live. Without judgement but with frosting and 10k's and goals and love and support.  And peanut butter.  Everything's better with a little peanut butter.  Where do you put yours.

Completely unrelated to my assinine problems...

You gotta love a seven year old who sleeps with a eye mask.  Now that's a good morning.  My peanut butter pumpkin with frosting on top.  Love to you all....

Yoga Championships coming soon. next up:  my training for life altering asana.  Thanks, Garland for Directing us.  We love you!

Fo shizzell!

Do you like free extensions? 
Fo shizzle my nizzle - Slang for "for sure, homey".  Though most people attribute it to Snoop Dogg, fo shizzle can be traced back originally to E-40 from Vallejo, California. Bay Area.
If you've never visited the urban dictionary.  Do it.  Especially if you have offspring even close to puberty.  Mostly its funny.  Can be disturbing. But it's reality. 
Here's where fo shizzle works...
Q:  You ready for the weekend?
A:  Fo shizzle.
Q:  You leave a tip for your favorite barista?
A:  Fo shizzle my nizzle.
Q:  You  want a Dutch Oven?
A:  Fo shizzle. 

Q:  How do I get one?

A:  Blow hard butt wind under the covers several times and build up stench while your old lady is brushing her teeth and getting ready for bed, then when she gets into bed, pull the covers over her head and yell "Dutch Oven" and let her enjoy the stench of your ass gas for at least 30 seconds.  OR
1. Comment (1 entry)
2. Send me your latest AHA! moment from training. (Ex.: a PR on a recreational run. Got your head to your knee, did backbend down a wall, got out of bed without limping) I want good news baby! - (1 entry).
3. Keep us all real. Send me one little confession (clean and comfortable) - You love the smell of gasoline (I do!). You must line labels evenly. You eat cookie dough, run the water while in the restroom. Something that makes you go hmmm.
4. Send a little good energy into the world to someone/something that needs it.  To Amy who's working hard and being an awesome friend.  Or to your sister in gratitude. Or to your parents in heaven because you'll forever be stunned you got them even for a short time. How did I get so lucky? (Quiet entry as many as you like, tell me about or don't but JUST DO IT!)  By Saturday.

Make him proud...

Yeah, dogg.

$40 GIVEAWAY and huge moment

Even though Mary Jarvis says the Bikram Yoga room stinks because you leave all your stuff in it, please, no Dutch Oven in the hot room!  It's already hot and smelly... in a good way. - kind of like breast milk poop.  I used to love that from my babies - I know I'll regret that little giveaway in the morning.  But not this one:

$40 gift certificate to CSN stores.   Read to the end for details.  

So I went to Bikram Yoga yesterday with my hurt right butt cheek.  I was hesitant because of my bottom but hungry for that sweat and push and focus.  I told my instructor I was nursing a hamstring/piriformis injury and she said "Okay, take it easy."  Another student said:  "She should whip you if you don't step up."  Like "Who do you think you are?" - better make sure the instructor doesn't think  you are slacking. "  How silly am I?  What does she care about my hindquarters?

Everything.  Apparently.  Each word Briah uttered resonated with me and though I was tender with my ham I progressed in almost every pose.  Probably because I wasn't full-throttle and wanting to outdo myself and my neighbor in class.  I had a challenge to consider and everything else settled like the butterfly on my (patio) bush.  Though I was one-sided in triangle and standing head to knee, my full locust was the bomb.  

AHA!  Thank you God, Allah, Jesus, Shiva, the Universe, Love and my ass!  I feel better.  (That's my huge moment.)

Here comes contest for the giveaway...

1.  Comment (1 entry)
2.  Send me your latest AHA! moment from training.  (Ex.:  a PR on a recreational run.  Got your head to your knee,  did backbend down a wall, got out of bed without limping)  I want good news baby! -  (1 entry).
3.  Keep us all real.  Send me one little confession (clean and comfortable) - You love the smell of gasoline (I do!).  You must line labels evenly.  You eat cookie dough, run the water while in the restroom.  Something that makes you go hmmm. 
4.  Send a little good energy into the world to someone/something that needs it.  Like my friend Beth who's traveling to run with Dean in just 2 hours.  Go Beth!  Or to your sister in gratitude.  Or to your parents in heaven because you'll forever be stunned you got them even for a short time.  How did I get so lucky?  (Quiet entry as many as you like, tell me about or don't but JUST DO IT!)

Winner announced August 25!  Everybody needs a little Dutch Oven.

Addicts no more

What would you do for a butt?

On Monday I opened my freezer and saw this:

Frozen mud?  Marinade for another day?  I wouldn't put it past my sauce-creating husband to save his baste like so.   Turns out the girls were trying to make a chocolate bar out of Hersey's syrup.  Not a creative endeavor from some cute workshopie cooking camp.  In my mind, it's a desperate measure by a true sugar addict.  I've become militant and cleaned up our food act. I will never ever purchase another soda and sugar is a treat on a special occasion not a daily entitlement.  It appears my behavior is founded.


They aren't happy:

So I say to my son:
Wow, your sisters are like nicotine addicts searching desperately on the ground in a dark alley for some old cigarette butt hoping there's a puff or two left so they can get their fix.  So don't ever smoke.  What do you think?
A little dramatic. 
After a pause he laughed.
Good one, Mom. 
I was serious.

This is better:

My silly hamstring.  Slow to heal.  Like recovery from sugar addiction.  We'll do it though.  One day at a time.

No miles this week.  Yoga twice and 4 fitness classes to teach at the Y.  I can lead without full-on yowzah.  So I am resting a bit.

What have you changed lately?