Eggo my Leggo

November 17, 2010

I’m all sorts of broken today. In a good way I think.

Last night, went to yoga and showed up 30 minutes early like a boss. I think I was delirious by the end of the day cause I definitely knew the class was from 6:30-8.

Then I broke myself in class. When I arrived, my knee was a bit sore. When I left my hip was fucked and my knee was laughing at me. I think my instructor could tell… my body was stiff, my shoulders were tight up to my ears (she kept saying “roll your shoulders back and relax!” to the entire class but it was definitely to me.) She would come over and push me deeper into my stretch, but honestly, I’m pretty good at yoga, this was a basics class, and there was definitely some cooperation issues coming from my body. During the meditation, I heard her going around the room and using some essential oils on some of the students… I could smell it from across the room. She came over to me and did this amazing shoulders-back of the neck-temples-eyebrows thing with the oil and I felt myself sink further into the floor… I realized I was the last person she’d touched, and there were still about 10 more students in the room; I think she only did it to those of us who looked like we were having a pretty miserable day.

I then RAN home, changed, fixed my face (as the mascara had begun to creep down my face… OH GRAVITY!) then I ran back out to meet my darling John for dinner at Bozu. I hadn’t been to Bozu for the longest time, and while I knew it would rape my wallet, I gave in and decided I deserved it. Doing something for me. Suck it, world. I was running about 10 minutes late, which is such a faux pas for me, but John had a beer and a carafe of sake ready and waiting. It was so great to see him… it had been too long. I ordered some bombs (NOT sake bombs, but the specialty sushi they have there), which I hadn’t had in forever… a croquette or two, and taught John that edamame was in fact not sugar snap peas, but soybeans. Don’t eat the shell darling 😉 It was pretty great to catch up with him. He’s always been a wonderful friend. We made plans to play rock band in the very near future.

After getting drunker than we should, drinking beer out of oversized syrafoam cups (yep, introduced to a dive bar in willy that does it…) We encountered the engima that is the williamsburg white trash (they weren’t even bros, they were like people I’d run into in podunk Oregon) who had taken over the jukebox with the most insane 90s music. We walked in and they were playing “Freshman” and the entire bar was screaming along with it FORRRRRRRR THE LIFE OF MEEE… by the time we got to Hootie and the Blowfish, John and I were having difficulty playing the straight face game, so it was time for me to sing along and prove I knew every word. Miss you Hootie… and your blowfish.

Today is looking up. I discovered that disney-produced documentary, babies, about those 4 babies all over the world, is now on Netflix watch instantly. I don’t want to jinx it, but we might be on our way to some personal sunshine.

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