FAW

I took my second Ashtanga Easy class today. Two mats down from me sat a young, lithe, attractive woman. I noticed her because she seemed so cool and collected, and managed to make twin braids look uber-sexy. I'd never seen her before. But now I know that her name is Formidable Ashtanga Woman.

The instructor asked, "Is anybody taking this class for the first time?" A few of us raised our hands, including FAW. I said that this was my second class. FAW said, "I've been gone for a long time, and am just getting back to Ashtanga. I've been doing a lot of traveling with my child." The instructor and she exchanged, "oh, it's so hard to get back" comments. We all nodded in sympathy.

Then the class began. And I am not kidding when I say that FAW was poetry in motion. "Getting back" my eye. She didn't need this class, with the sweaty, grunting, huffing plebians surrounding her. She needed to be on stage, with one solo spotlight, where we could all marvel at her grace, strength and poses while we all murmured below in wonder and delight.

I'd hate to see what her idea of "back" in Yoga would be. I imagine it to be something like this:

- she swoops in, flying like a crane
- rolls over and folds herself economically into a little box
- pops out gracefully, looking happy and refreshed

Can't wait to see it. I'll be right behind her, huffing and puffing until I, too, can be called a FAW.

The Acquisition

Today I went to a client meeting. I got there a bit early, and my client said, "Let's go into the kitchen and get something to drink." I walk in and freeze in my tracks. This company develops software, and the kitchen shelves were lined with boxes of candy and snacks from Sam's. All open, available, and free.

"Have something," she said, waving carelessly at the shelves.

I spied an open box of Kit Kats. Then remembered the 30 minute jog I suffered through in the am.

"No, thanks," I demurred. "I'm not hungry."

We went to the meeting to take about mergers and company direction. And what was on my mind? The Kit Kat.

Specifically, what I would do with the Kit Kat. How I would open the package. Break each bar apart. Nibble all the chocolate edges off and then crunch into the bar, biting through each layer to make the bar last longer.

I was fantasizing about food. In a client meeting!

After the meeting was over, I got up to leave and said, "Thank you very much. I'll be in touch soon."

Then snuck back into the kitchen and got a Kit Kat.

I ate it on the couch when I got home, and enjoyed every minute of it!

Don't get too cocky

I just had an overwhelming urge for a Kit Kat. I would KILL for a Kit Kat right now!! Evil, stupid chocolate...

Guarantee a flat stomach

Go to Yoga first thing in the am, without eating anything, and your stomach will remain flat even after you eat a sensible breakfast! Amazing.

Topaz, the Yoga teacher, wants to kill, though. Her weapons may be kindness, sun salutations, twists and deep bends, but it's killing me just the same. I always just want to lie in a quivering child's pose until I catch up. Who knew slow movement could be so lethal?

Strange shuffle friends

Here was my 25 minute jog list:

"I Really Love You Girl," by Bobby Brown
"The Way You Look Tonight," Billie Holiday
"To Live and Die in LA," Wang Chung
"I'll" Go," Donnel Jones
"Somebody Have Mercy," Sam Cook
"Copacabana," Barry Manilow

I thought the Sam Cook song would make me laugh, as it's a walk song and the title was appropriate. When I got to the end of the song I thought, "I wonder what's next. It better be good or I'm just going to walk home." Then Copa started. How can one resist moving with that syncopated beat?

I've turned into that person

I went jogging again this afternoon, which wouldn't be that big of a deal except for it's something like 90 degrees and 8,000% humidity. I felt like I was treading in a pool of sweat. Although my feet were moving, I would call what I was doing less of a jog, but something more like a shuffle.

But I was out there!

It occurred to me while I was slogging away that I've become that person. You know, the hot, sweaty person you look at from your air-conditioned car and think, "Fool. What are you doing jogging at 4:00 in the afternoon in the south? Are you crazy?!"