Do you smell your fingers?

 You would if you had this stuff on them...

My God.  Chakra 2 by Aveda.  Heaven.  It's an authentic fusion of pure essential oils blended to balance the pleasure Chakra. 

Whatever. 

It smells mighty fine.  I sprayed some in the hallway upstairs last night.  My son, 12 and Way Too Cool says ways "What IS that?   It smells really good."  Apparently his second Chakra needed balancing.   It has essences of sandalwood, orange and geranium.  Why did I spend $30 on 3.4 ounces of Body Spritz?  After a 'sing-to-the-heavens' yoga class with Allison she gently placed a towel on my face spritzed with this angelic mist.  I have been thinking about it ever since.  I tried to sniff my own face for hours after the class to recreate the sensation of utter calm and passion all rolled up into one.  At least I wasn't sniffing my fingers.  I don't do that sort of thing.  Chakra 2 baby.  It'll cure what ails you.

So I am leaving for Boca Grande, FL on Saturday for a family vacation with her...

 

I can't wait.  Though we didn't plan it this way, this trip will be a mother-daughter extravaganza shared with my five siblings and their spouses and children.  Extended family and some other friends are brave enough to join the Griswolds Going Tropical.  And we are going to rock it.  My husband and other two children will be swinging bats, winning tournaments (I hope) and taking names in Virginia.  Halfway through the vacation my other daughter will join us and the Norman Girls will be in force.  Except for her....

She just sniffed some Chakra 2.  (Don't call PETA)  She was just in the room. 

What's your favorite smell?

Fat dancers

I love to dance but am not built like a ballerina.  I should have been a pole dancer.  Here's me at 16...  I'm too fat to be a real ballerina so they cast me as Arabian coffee addict. ( Act II Divertissement:  Nutcracker). 

 If pole dancing were okay for virgins at a Catholic High School for girls I'd have been all over it.  Instead I spent years playing roles like the tart,  a man, the Princess Mother, a big-boobed member of the corps de ballet in most classic productions (Swan Lake, Waltz of the Flowers, La Bayadere, - you get the picture.)  Very occasionally I got a solo because I could move and the skinny dancers couldn't make the quick change.  I was trying so hard to be something I'm not:  Long and lithe.  But a dancer:  I am.  I'll never forget going to the soda machine for a drink during rehearsal one time (I know it's an oxymoron - like a nurse on a smoke break.) and the Director says:

"Clair, I hope that's diet." 

It wasn't.

Now, I wasn't grow-to-the-couch huge just curvy and as my beloved Mother would say "Earthy" and "Perfectly Proportioned"  (Whatever that means.)  I was not created for point shoes but tap shoes, that's a whole other story.  Instead of chasing my groove-on and the bass and the attitude which came naturally, I lurched for the tiara of the Sugar Plum Fairy - that sweet petite, airy creature who made people cry in a good way.  It was not to be.  She is not me.

Fast forward 25 years.  I run to keep my weight down and because I love The Race.  I teach exercise classes because I love The Performance and the wellness and the People.  I practice Yoga simply because I love The Life.  I dance every chance I get because I am.   

Hmmm..  I hear Pole Dancing is fun and big boobs are an asset instead of a liability. I think she's beautiful

 Be what you are.  Are you?

I am not Meg Ryan

Remember When a Man Loves a Woman?

I love that movie.  Meg Ryan is an alcoholic.  Her hot husband co-depends like no other and everything gets all messed up.  After a trip to Mexico, a condescending comment about stirring coffee with a little spoon, and a stay at a 5-star rehab clinic, things start looking up.  Love a good drama.  Besides the fact I have always wanted Meg's hair, I  have addictive qualities too (future post) so I mean no offense.  I'm just saying, it's broad daylight and I haven't been looking for a nip in the garbage can.  Sometimes a girl just needs to sleep.  Nothing like a good nap.

Bikram says real rest or complete relaxation is like our gas station.  It fills us up, making us ready for what's next.  I like that.  I always feel guilty when I take a nap.  Above, it's Saturday.  I ran 5.3 miles in 90 wet degrees and did 10 backbends.  I worked for one hour and cleaned up the aftermath of my daughter's sleepover.  Then I drove to softball practice to retrieve my little All-stars.  I came home and made lunch for 2 of them.  Then I passed out with my brown bitch and not because I'm Meg Ryan.  I am a wimp. I couldn't take the heat so I passed out in the kitchen.

As a Bikram student, I was hopeful my nap would rev me up - get me ready for what was next.  Here it is...

It didn't work.

Going for the Pinot Grigio now.  Wouldn't you if you woke up to that?

What do you like to wake up to after a nap? 

I want to be you

I know the coolest people.

Beth just qualified for Boston and recently played blackjack in a bikini in Vegas.

Tighe juices with ginger.

Garland is the oldest younger than 30-year-old I know.

Dennine is learning Reiki.

Megan knows her horses better than most people know themselves.

Amy gardens, runs, writes, makes jewelry and is a physical therapist.

Dawn simply gets it.

Glen is sweet and loyal and the grandest tradition-loving uncomplicated soul with his eyes set on What Matters.

I love all these people and many others for a zillion reasons.  I fancy myself a running, raw food eating, animal-loving, energy- flowing, veggie-growing. working-mother, accomplished, business-owning yogini who's funny smart and true to the core.  Or a piece of all of you.  Why am I contemplating all of this? I went running today.  I haven't run much since diving into Bikram Yoga. I find something I love and I want to be the best at it sometimes I end up all over the map and since I do everything full-tilt I sometimes lose my own compass.  Maybe one day I'll want to just be me.

I ran 4 miles at a 9:06 pace then I did 10 backbends before I showered and went to work.  I got home just before my three lovely children got home from school.  Instead of feeling like a Renaissance Woman who's got it goin' on I felt like a failure because of the dust bunnies under my couch and because my hair didn't look good.  Suddenly, I'm not a runner or a Yogi or anything I can hold onto with pride.  I am a lesser version of all of you awesome, talented people.  And then I realized we are ALL FRICKIN' HUMAN.

Maybe the things I love about everyone else are also inside me and if I just CHILL OUT, I could love it whereever it is.  In me.  In you.  On the course.  In the HOT ROOM.  Under the couch.  With the dust bunnies.  In every blade of grass, whisper of wind and hair on my children's head.

My 10-year-old daughter just got Athlete of the Year award for her whole school.  Could a piece of  me be in her?  Actually it's probably from her former college-ball playing Dad.  But does that really matter?  It's ALL GOOD whereever it is.

 It looks really good on you and hmmm, maybe not so bad in me either. 

What did you think about today?

She's awesome.

Tear the roof off the mutha

Remember Parliament?

Ow, we want the funk

Give up the funk

Ow, we need the funk

We gotta have that funk
Tear the roof off the mutha, 
Tear the roof off the sucka,
Tear the roof off the mother.


 Brilliant. That song is 9 min. 3 sec.  I need 3 minutes of brilliance this fall during the Mid-Atlantic Asana Championships in Richmond, Virginia.  I'm trying...

10 to 15 a day.

That's me.

10 to 15 a day. 

(That's not me.  I wish.)

I'm going for it.  I love me some funk.  Funk in the Bikram room.  Funk in my pelvis, right behind my belly button.  Funk that makes me ageless, timeless, fearless, joint and boneless but never, NEVER spineless.  The funk is in the gelatinous fluid inside the vertebrae.  It is shear and utter freedom and I am there.  I am tearing the roof off the mother as I get stronger, funkier and ultimately happier.  My Bikram and Hatha Yoga brethren are there too and I couldn't be more excited.  We don't compete against each other we work with each other to find it, touch it, smell it, eat it, love it.  That funk.  On the other side of the roof.  Tear it off!

What's your ceiling?