Pid Stew...

Think. You'll get the title if you think.

While you're thinking, let me tell you what I did yesterday. I got a jump start on packing for this weekend, when I head out of town for teacher training. Did some laundry. Walked the dog. Checked my stash of avocados about eighteen times to see if maybe, just maybe, one had decided to ripen a little more quickly. Checked the avocados again. Drank a kombucha, which I did not shake. Had my meditation practice.

In the late afternoon, I decided a nice, hot bath was in order. So I went upstairs to my Temple of High Maintenance, started running a tub of water, and went to my Yoga Closet Boudoir to get some comfortable clothes for post-bath power lounging. On the way out of the bathroom, I grabbed the door knob, locked it, and pulled the bathroom door shut behind me.

Oh, yes. With the tub running.

Naturally, I said, "Oh, shit." Upon learning what I had done, Didgeridoo Boy came running up the stairs to taunt me. He told me to get the skinny, curved knife out of the knife block and a butter knife. I did. Once I had delivered those things to him, I also got the key that is supposed to unlock the bathroom door - it did not work. Didge said we would probably need to kick the door in. I ran downstairs to get a screwdriver. Didge said that the ones in the array I decided to bring back up wouldn't work. While he was asking where we would go to turn off the water to the house, I set to work taking the door knob off and figuring out how to get the bathroom side of the door knob unlocked. Did that. Got the door open.

Luckily, I had forgotten to plug the bathtub. That was a relief. What was not a relief was the fact that getting everything sorted out took the exact same amount of time as it takes the hot water heater to empty itself of its contents. But at least I got the door open.

And now I cannot get the door knob back the hell on. The screws won't line up. I am considering Hello Kitty Duck Tape.

Enjoy your Wednesday.

Instruction...

So. This advisory on the kombucha bottle:

I noticed the label *after* I shook the daylights out of a bottle yesterday. Care to know what'll happen if you *do* shake it? Hissing. Popping. The feel of a lift from under the lid when you remove it. Foam. Foam. Foam. Foam. Foam. Foam. Foam. More foam. And in the case of this particular version, green foam, because it contains all manner of goodness like spirulina and such. Once I had consumed about half of it, and after I had read the label, I unwittingly swirled the bottle all around before taking the lid off to have a sip - - and it went THOOOONSHHHHHHHH the second I unscrewed the lid. And I jumped.

Don't shake the damned kombucha, y'all. Just don't.

And now, we catch up...

It's amazing how much laundry a week without a dryer can generate. Holy hell. But the nice man with the part for it came back yesterday, and fixed it, so today I get to play "Laundress". My intent is to have every last bit of laundry caught up and put away by the day's end. Maybe. I don't know - half seems reasonable. I think.

This means I do not need to be sitting and savoring a cup of coffee using a blog entry to put off the inevitable, but I'm going to anyway.

We have new neighbors. The former residence of the Jackass Neighbors rented *very* quickly, and a great, big truck containing all manner of things arrived yesterday. I was relieved to see evidence of them having kids -- this means no death metal at 3.30am, I'm assuming. (Oh, yes. That was when the male half of the equation got up for work - if his wife and son weren't there, it was on.) I'm also assuming this means there will be no play with the car alarm late at night or early in the morning. I hope. Oh, I hope. I honestly dread the thought of new neighbors now, something I used to not do, so I'm having quite the lesson in remaining in the present. There are no signs that these people will throw trash cans and call us names. (Present, be present.....be present......)

As much as I love this little house townhouse, sometimes I long for a big house in the country located smack dab in the middle of a two acre yard. (And a water balloon catapult.)

Nemesis pose...

Let's talk about the yoga thing again, shall we? I have a yoga bugaboo that won't go away.

I cannot find, or re-find, my balance to my liking again to save my life. Being someone who, until recently, had freakishly perfect balance and could casually sail from Eagle to Dancer and then into Tree without a care in the world, it was a little bit of a rude awakening to discover how to make unique emergency breakdancing recovery transitions between repeated attempts at only getting halfway into those.

(We will not speak of what almost happened that first weekend of teacher training. I will tell you that people held me up. I will also tell you that had they not, it would have been ugly in a spin-the-little-yogi kind of way - - who knows in which direction she might go, but when she does? Together! Together we all go the hell down! As a community!)

Sometimes it comes back. And I'm like, whoa! Lately, it's admittedly been better - - I no longer feel like maybe I should have gotten the couch cushions and made a fort around myself when that oh, so special time for the balance poses comes in the yoga practice. Sometimes, like this morning, I can hold Eagle like I've been doing that asana all my natural life and possibly through the course of several others. Airplane, even, becomes something I can come to with relatively little drama, did it this morning straight out of Eagle with not even a tippy tippy toe to the floor. Dancer? Yep. Tree? Mm-hmm. I get out of my head and let them come, and while I might wobble, eventually I find stability and do alright. I can find my place, or allow my place, depending on how you look at it.

So the nemesis I mentioned? Half Moon. Ardha Chandrasana, something I used to be able to just, you know, casually pull off in the kitchen waiting for my coffee to be ready. This is pissing me off. Sister Ardha Chandrasana and I had it *out* last night, and hard. I started thinking about it, and how frustrating it is that even with a block standing on its end to put my hand on, I cannot come back to terms to that damned pose. It ain't happening. We don't jive right now. In my leopard print jammie pants, a black hoodie, and Paul Frank socks with cute little skulls on the top, I hopped out of bed like I had good sense and decided to (ahem) explore what might be going on OTHER than being in my head with regards to being able to not bust my ass merely considering coming into the pose. Took Airplane, took my hand to the floor, and attempted to open into Half Moon.

Took myself up off the floor, and tried again. Perhaps, I thought, it had to do with needing more of an inner rotation in my leg and grounding down more through the inside of my standing foot. Core, too. Got to have that core action going on. Back into Airplane. Hand to the floor. Opened up into a spin on my standing heel which very nearly took me all the way around. Came back to standing, and tried again. Airplane, hand to floor, soften my standing knee a bit, engage (ha!), open.

And all of a sudden, I was there.

And then I said, "Holy shit!", and busted my ass.

But I was there!

So I've decided that maybe, just maybe, Ardha Chandrasana isn't such an evil beeyotch. Maybe my hips *are* a little tighter than when it came so easily, ditto for my lower back. The sensations I felt during that moment last night would seem to indicate that, yes, the hips need a little work. It could be that my days of freaky perfect balance are long gone, but I'm not ready to entertain that reality yet. I'm going to invite Sister Ardha Chandrasana back over for tomorrow morning's practice and see how we get along, only going as far as our edge, wherever that might be. Here's hoping it's not the floor.

Great day in the Monday...

This entry has no point, and will display that trait proudly.

Last week, the dryer. This week? No, actually, let me correct that. I want to be specific. Last night?

The water heater.

The nice man came last week and checked the dryer, ordering a part that he said will fix it. And today, another nice man is coming to check the water heater. I hope he doesn't have to order a part. I hope he is just able to fix it, because I would very much like a hot shower. Granted, I can go to my mom's, but - - that would mean leaving the house with dirty hair. And, yes, I am that much of a princess even though I like to go camping. Even when I am camping, I shampoo my hair. And right now, I cannot shampoo my hair, even though this *is* a little bit like camping. At least to me.

This all comes after quite the little weekend, in which Didge got mad at his computer and called *me* stupid for about five hours straight on Saturday over the immense and seemingly insurmountable difficulties in saving files to one DVD, five hours which followed an hour of wild goose chase that culminated in a stop at Walmart. On Saturday afternoon. Where I swear I almost tripped over a pair of undies in an aisle in the electronics department. (Just for the record: I am not the stupid one. The drive on his laptop is the stupid one.) Prior to that, in the course of just thirty minutes, I had a door go shut on my left foot, a door open on my right, and then sat the coffee table on the toes of my left. But the DVD issue was finally solved, Didge is now happy, and I have only a medium-sized bruise from the door swinging shut on my left foot. And I am not stupid, no matter how many times he may say I am.

Where was I?

Ah. Yes. It's been a bit of a weekend, and it's been my experience that sometimes after such headaches amazingly good things happen that make up for all the crap. I'm hoping for that.

I think I need a doughnut.

So about this yoga thing...

I just realized that since starting yoga teacher training in December, I haven't written a word about it. Maybe this is because it *is* a little bit overwhelming - there's a mental stretch from practicing to teaching that I hadn't taken into consideration. Also - I have to study. I haven't had to study, like, on a schedule in about a decade or two. So when I'm not thinking about it, I don't want to be thinking about it, if that makes sense. But I'm getting into my groove with it, have two weekend sessions under my belt now, and am preparing for what seems like it will be a rather intense ride until the end of May, when this training ends.

Adjusting to studying aside, my biggest bugaboo is practice teaching. I'm doing alright. Things are a damn far sight better than they were the very first weekend, when I was freaked out beyond all imaginable get out over the idea of practice teaching *already*. I can, for instance, speak. Words will come out of my mouth! But there is still this thing that I do that I need to stop doing:

I cross my legs. Not casually. I tie myself into an X, looking rather like I'm gearing up to take Eagle, and root myself in place. It's a security thing, but it's a habit I need to overcome. Until this started, I wasn't aware of how much I do it; once aware, I thought it would be easy to stop.

Ha.

Last night, I flew solo on my practice teaching to work with video (you're not seeing it). My thinking is that knowing I am being taped will help me break this tendency - and it FINALLY worked. I didn't cross my legs at all. But I damned well rooted myself in place and taught via semaphore. That was new. Apparently, I am quite determined to do *something*, and that is what my subconscious chose to do. For twenty minutes, I stood stock fucking still from the waist down and looked like a cheerleader directing an airplane from the waist up. And I was commanding about it, too. I bloody well meant everything I was saying, and I meant it LOUD. My determination to not cross my legs came up in my voice. At one point, I taught to the ceiling, looking very, very intense and sounding as though I was performing an exorcism. It was something.

(I mean it. You're not seeing it.)

So I'm rethinking how hard I'm being on myself about this. Maybe I need to let myself move some, right? Like, it's obvious I want to be doing something other than just standing there. I am a highly animated person, unless I'm feeling shy, which is when I tie myself up in a knot for comfort. (That I found yoga is keenly ironic, no?) It's either let myself move about, or tie my hands to my sides and duct tape my feet to the floor, which would probably lead to me using my head and throwing my neck out - - or might result in a bizarre form of writhing bodily Houdini-ish performance art-esque expression best left to the imagination.

Bottom line - I'm going to stop making this so damned hard. But I'm also going to hide the duct tape from myself. Enjoy your weekend!

And then...

I don't have the energy to write.

For a little while now, I've been putting off getting our bedroom ready to paint. Then yesterday evening, I learned that the painters can start - - tomorrow.

At 9am.

Buh-bye procrastination, hello bed to the middle of the room and dusting every last nook and cranny. I am about to fall the hell over, absolutely dazed from working so hard after having been so sick. But it's done. I'm finished. I'm sitting on my bed in the middle of the room, kind of enjoying playing "island", while I tell myself I really should get a shower but keep picking out new linens and curtains and finalizing where I want the furniture to be placed. Oh, and a new ceiling fan. And lamps. So, so much - - I want a shower and a nap so bad I can hardly see, but I can't stop. I will dream of the phrases "Egyptian cotton" and "dragonfly stained glass lamp" for the next one hundred days, but it'll be worth it.

Alright. I'm off - I caught myself falling asleep staring at the cursor just now.

This kind of sort of might be like getting a whole new life.

The most basic application of Murphy's Law...

Giving Totsi the Dog a bath is always great fun. She's not no much resistant as she is mournful and determined to invoke feelings of deep maternal guilt, stepping into the bathtub all on her own, and then beginning to shake while holding her tail between her legs, dipping her head, and staring into some far off place. She cooperates, but grunts in a way that lets you know her patience is being tested, and during the rinsing she will decide it is time to escape. She'll put a foot on the edge of the tub, then another, and then slide herself over the edge slowly - but with such force that sometimes I cannot stop her.

Yesterday morning, however, I managed to stop her. She didn't want a bath, but put up with it as she always does, and even tolerated having her head lathered up and rinsed. The shaking started early, though, while she was partially soapy and particularly soaked - meaning I wound up in the same condition. Once she shook, she'd go right back to mournful, and once I had the shampoo out of my eyes, I went right back to work at rendering her funkless. This went on for a good while.

Once she was done, she ran all around the house and got wet dog smell all over everything while I followed with a bottle of Febreze. She settled down and asked to be let into the bedroom, and once let in trotted right over to her bed and began to roll around all over it. It's what she does. I put a blanket down on the floor so she could roll on it, too, and became engrossed in something online. I remember looking up and seeing her peeking over the side of the bed, and told her, "Stay floor. Floor. Bed soon." She went back to her bed, and I went back to whatever it was holding my attention.

When she got up on the bed I don't know. It's such a normal thing to have her sitting on the bed that her presence didn't really register. I noticed her, and then *noticed* her. Totsi was still wet, and she smelled like wet dog - - wet dog all over my bedding, which meant the bedding smelled like - - yep. So I had her get down and stripped the bed in preparation for a few loads of laundry.

And the dryer quit working. A nice man is coming to check it on Wednesday.

That is all.

Random oddities...

Didgeridoo Boy quit smoking, but lost weight because his appetite magically went to something normal.

Jupiter Jones can coo like a dove. He just did it a few minutes ago, while "hunting" a pair of doves he could see on the deck.

Jupiter Jones knows what birds he's never heard are supposed to sound like.

While doing a modified version of the Fruit Feast cleanse (getting over the flu, so no full-on version for me), in a matter of five minutes I went from thinking, "Oh, this is fantastic. I could totally be vegan.", to, "WHEN THE HELL CAN I HAVE SOME CHEESE?".

As I was going through that, I almost mugged Didgeridoo Boy for a Nip Chee cracker. I don't like Nip Chee crackers.

I have improved my eating habits over the past few months by such leaps and bounds that Didgeridoo Boy didn't even notice I was doing a modified version of the Fruit Feast.

Totsi the Dog and Jupiter Jones both beg for spaghetti squash, and will get into what Didge has termed a "beg-off" - - without moving.

(Actually, a lot of this isn't all that odd, is it? I just feel kind of weak and run down today, so I'm struggling for an entry. Let's close here.)