Writing and editing

Here at Miss Stan dot com, I like to keep it light. My forays into darkness (exhibit A – hey don’t judge I just gave birth!) are met with a bit of reader brow-furrowing. And really they should be. I didn’t want this blog to be about how crappy or hard my practice is. I wanted it to be about how the practice has helped me lead a positive, healthy life. I am a lucky girl. I do think that you make a small piece of your own luck and this blog is all about the small part of my luck that I work for every morning.

I was reading Kapo is My Bitch last night and it prompted a discussion between David and I this morning about tradition. There are some old school teachers who teach the Ashtanga technique how it was taught to them in the 70s and 80s. When we use that word, “tradition”, that is exactly what comes to mind. A practice that was originally taught and handed down from generation to generation. I guess like most traditions, Ashtanga has changed, many times, even within this generation. And while it might make sense initially to follow whatever was taught 30 years ago and carry on that tradition, it was the Guru himself who modified it.

I can see if you learned a technique at a pivotal moment in your life, and that technique changed everything for you – it would make sense to want to replicate that experience in teaching others. I would argue that it isn’t the sequence of poses, although very elegantly and intelligently stacked, that changes us in Ashtanga Yoga – but accepting and trusting a teacher.

David says you wouldn’t go see a doctor who only used medical information she learned thirty years ago because it was empirical knowledge then and therefore must be empirical knowledge now. I think tradition is a clumsy word in this case, maybe technique or method is better suited because the whole thing is so mutable. I’m pretty sure that is how Sharath describes it. I’m not sure if I have ever heard him say it is “Traditional Ashtanga”. And yet we seem to use that word all the time to describe what we do.

Coincidentally, there was an article about Sofia Coppola’s new film in the paper today. She used camera lenses from her father’s film Rumblefish to shoot her movie. She talked about loving the warmth and soft quality of film. But she also mentioned that her father is really into HD, and won’t shoot on film anymore – although he does think it is cute that his daughter is so fond of it.

I have listened to different yoga teachers speak about yoga like it is an art form. And from that point of view, I think I understand. You have a story to tell or an idea to express and using a traditional process can add meaning and texture. A friend of mine shot the cover of her book on a pinhole camera. It is gorgeous, but the murky-sepia tone of the photo also adds a layer of meaning to the narrative. Maybe more so then the same shot taken with a digital camera.

I guess I can’t get my head around the whole yoga as art thing. I just don’t see it as a dance or creative expression. I don’t really understand when people describe a vinyasa sequence as artful either. I mean, you would only put a series of poses together because they complement each other in your body, not because it looks cool in front of the mirror or whatever. It is interesting to me how different bodies “express” a pose, but that seems more like anatomical geometry.

But maybe I am missing something. I know this isn’t Sister Wives, but if you have an opinion – please share it!

Next post: Don’t EVER let your kid get a cold. Unless you hate sleeping.

David is slowly adding intermediate back on to my practice. It feels totally different to be backbending on my belly. That was one of the first things to go when I was 5 months pregnant after a few dumb attempts at shoving blankets under my shoulders and pelvis to create a little room for the baby.

When I got pregnant I was at yoga nidrasana and I had that kind of scrawny look people get when they are close to splitting and the practice is sort of devouring them. Getting into kapotasana by myself took a long time, and all of the leg behind the head stuff was hard won, so I imagine it will take me a while to get back to where I was. I’m not really in any rush. The front of my body needs to stretch out again after surgery. It still feels tight in backbending and my incision feels tender if I push too hard. Also, the longer my practice gets the more jittery I get about leaving the baby.

Here’s a picture of me right around the time of conception. Look – you can play xylophone on my chest bones!

Now the only thing you can play on my chest is maybe pillow fight.

Mercedes is cool:

Driving to along Queen to pick up some merchandise for the studio, Mercedes pointed to man leaning against his ten speed bike on a street corner.

Mercedes: Oh! I thought that was a crackhead, but he is just a hipster.

Bwhahaha! Seriously, I don’t want to be a traitor to my generation or isolate myself from one of the six people in the city who didn’t vote for Rob Ford – but come on! Skinny jeans paired with ironic glasses and a beard? That look will not get you laid. Or maybe it will, in which case I need to have a serious talk with some hipster girls.

Ok. I’ll admit it. Sometimes I kinda love living where we do and listening to my neighbours blast “Jessie’s Girl”. It is a hipster-free zone. And if you think maybe someone might be a crackhead. Odds are…

David had 100 students in our Mysore program today. Yep, 100. We had been hovering around 95 for the past couple of weeks and we were waiting to hit three digits. It was a busy Sunday, but it felt manageable. I’m not sure that why our little northern city has caught AYCT Mysore fever, but it has been exciting to see it grow over the past two years. We are so lucky to have such a strong, wonderful and obsessed community. We are truly blessed.

We watched The Runaways this weekend and I have been singing, “Don’t Give a Damn about My Bad Reputation” since. The other day we went to an opening party for a downtown vinyasa studio, which was fun and we are very proud and happy for nice  friends. But if real life was a musical, then David would totally be Joan Jett and Mercedes, Holden and I would be the Blackhearts and we would have walked into the party with faux-leather jackets singing that song. And then the vinyasa kids would be dressed up like Carly Simon and sing back to us, “You’re So Vain”. Awesome.

But of course, in real life we just huddled together until a few people came up to us and said “Hello”. When we got back in the car 20 minutes later Mercedes said, “God. No one likes you guys.” Hahaha! We have been up on Ashtanga Island for so long, but it was sort of delicious to be a fish out of water.

Running a Mysore program is like the anti-thesis to a good business model. You have to be there everyday, asking people to do the same impossible things all the time without deviation, and then you have to bug people, who have already purchased monthly or annual passes, to come more often. It doesn’t make any sense. But here we are.

To get more students I am thinking of making this our new logo:

It is a sign in South Africa warning: “Very Steep Ramp Leads to Crocodile Pit”. I’m not sure why they put crocodiles at the bottom of wheelchair ramps, it seems particularly unfair. But anyway, I think it makes an eye-catching logo. And our new tagline would be, “Modify and we feed you to the crocodiles”. We would totally hit 150 in a month.

This video by Toronto Body Mind was made a few weeks after the baby was born. We were such zombies taking turns rocking the baby to sleep for hours on end. In the video, I love the sort of sad gulp David does before saying he gets up at 3a every morning. Good thing he could talk eloquently about ashtanga under any circumstances. Too bad they didn’t catch any footage of the crocodiles.

http://www.vimeo.com/16290055

I have been internetless in Farm Sanctuary over the past week. But I am going to make up for it with critter pictures!

AYCT sponsors a pig and a cow from Farm Sanctuary, which is a charity that does rescue and advocacy work for farm and food animals. Every year for the last three, David and I have travelled down to Ithaca, New York to visit the animals and spend time on the farm. It is a peaceful and beautiful place and it puts me in touch with why we are vegan.

This year we learned that Sprinkles, our pig had some medical problems due to his unnaturally large size. He wasn’t bred to reach this age, and he has developed leg and hip problems. He is on medication, but he seemed pretty content when I caught up with him again.

Samuel, our adopted cow, is in the special needs herd because he likes the senior citizens. He is also massive. He was pretty bothered by flies when we were hanging out and was swinging his head wildly from side to side, which is why we are keeping a respectful distance in the picture.

My favourite are the goats. Goats are friends with everybody, so you can always be sure of a warm reception in the goat barn.

Holden liked the goats too.

But the tour was pretty exhausting.

Practice Notes:

I practiced in YOGA PANTS for the first time in 6 weeks last Tuesday. Usually I practice in my undies at home, but that isn’t really acceptable attire at the studio. Yippee! It was stinking hot, but I had such a great time. I went up to Janu C and I did a backbend and full closing. At this point I have worked up to navasana with dropbacks, and David told me today that I am ready to finish primary, which I am a little scared about. Navasana is basically the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. Trying to lift my feet off the floor for the pick up seems like a far away dream. My belly is still pretty numb from surgery, but I can keep plugging away at it.

I love the studio, I love being able to practice. Mercedes watched the baby and I felt an overwhelming amount of gratitude that he has such a great older sister. It was such a gift to be back.

We are in Buffalo for the next few days, and by golly we have internet! I hope to update over the weekend with Holden’s practice notes. He took his first yoga class today. Super genius!

I’m still here.

Practice this week was short, sweet and mostly at home. I did standing, baddha konasana, my baby-prep squats, and then backbends. It is sort of strange for me to launch right into dropbacks, because I don’t have a particularly flexible back. But for some reason, cutting out primary series really leaves me with a ton of energy to do backbends. I’ve been enjoying that part of my practice immensely.

After spending the entire day weeping and staring at clouds in a melancholy manner yesterday, I decided I needed to change things up a bit and I went into the studio. I miss practicing there and seeing my friends. it was so lovely to be in all that great energy again, plus I got an assist in utthita hasta padangusthasana and backbends. It was great.

On the baby front, I have been getting ultrasounds every second day. The biggest drag is that I can’t book an appointment, so I have to wait hours to get a walk-in appointment. I have been to three appointments and so far the receptionist has been polite enough to pretend like I have never been there before. The Russian ultrasound technician, however, hasn’t. “What? You are still pregnant?” she said to me on appointment # 2. “You must speak to this baby.” What is it about a Russian accent that makes you feel like even the most outrageous request is somehow an absolute requirement? “Ok,” I muttered. Me and everyone I know is talking to the baby constantly asking it to come out. I held the phone up to my belly the other day so Monica could have some serious words with it. But that night, I thought to myself, maybe the baby hasn’t come because I haven’t spoken with it yet?

On appointment # 3, I had a different ultrasound technician. She took 30 minutes to take pictures, which is an unusually long time. At one point she told me she had to get somebody – and I got really frightened. Ultrasound technicians are notoriously cagey. There are signs up at eye level all over their offices that say they cannot discuss any findings. As I’m lying there, covered with blue gel and beginning to tear up – I start thinking about the phone tree that will take place before I hear the news: from the technician to the receptionist, from the receptionist to my midwife, from the midwife to me.

And in walks the Russian ultrasound technician. She takes the measurements in her usual brusk manner and then looks at me.

R. U. T.: Your baby is perfect. Just lazy. You can go.

I’m almost tempted to ask her if it is really mine, seeing as I am quite imperfect, and not at all lazy. But I stop myself,and instead spend the next five minutes wiping sticky blue gel off my clothes.

I found a picture of the baby and I the day we left Mysore. I thought I was soooo huge.

Sigh, I didn’t know how good I had it.

Here is a picture of me taken yesterday:

This one was taken the day before yesterday:

From my pictures, you might assume that I am always in the kitchen. That would be an accurate observation. You might also notice that the belly isn’t really round anymore, it is sort of lumpy and baby-shaped which is strange. In the first picture from Mysore, I had been eating gobi manchurian almost everyday. Sadly, I don’t anymore and the baby has used up all my gobi credit. Yesterday, I noticed that I can see my ribs before they disappear under the belly.

I finished reading The Anthologist by Nicholson Baker today. I loved The Fermata, but this one was much sweeter. I am an English Lit major, which means nothing, but I did spend a year of my life tapping out meter on worn out school desks. Even though every moment of that poetics class was like dragging my nose against the sidewalk,  with all that tapping I unwittingly became such a big snob about unmetered poetry, but an even worse snob about badly metered poetry – in particular iambic pentameter. What a life skill, I know – thanks McGill. But this book was all about iambic pentameter, and I felt my snobbery was somehow justified. Here is a little tidbit about sitcoms:

At some point you have to set aside snobbery and what you think is culture and recognize that any random episode of Friends is probably better, more uplifting for the human spirit, than ninety-nine percent of the poetry or drama or fiction or history ever published. Think of that. Of course yes, Tolstoy and of course yes Keats and blah blah and yes indeed of course yes. But we’re living in an age that has a tremendous richness of invention. And some of the most inventive people get no recognition at all. They get tons of money but no recognition as artists. Which is probably much healthier for them and better for their art.”

I wish I wrote that. It did make me feel sort of happy about my desire to write cheesy screenplays and articles about facials.

Critter Corner:

Baby Raccoons in our backyard! Big dum-dums!

David and I made a little video on Monday of my pregnant dropbacks.  My second one is a bit jumpy but I’m too lazy and pregnant to get it perfect – so you are stuck with the honest (OK sloppy!) version of how I dropback everyday. The real reason to watch this is for the belly.

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My belly dropped this week. I can see it started happening on Monday because my shirt is riding up in that video. I’ve been trying to coax baby out by walking around the garden and bragging about all the flowers, shaking rattles by my belly, and raving about how soft and nice the baby’s bed is. So far, I’ve just had some new cramping feelings – but the baby hasn’t come out while I am sleeping or anything.

Mary, the midwife, told the baby on Thursday that it was time to come out. She told me that I should start eating lots of Indian food, have lots of sex, and lie horizontally to reduce the swelling in my feet when I watch television. David says I have the best life ever. But then, it seems to work out for him pretty well too.

Actually, David is the best husband ever. When I came home today there was a package waiting for me from David that he bought all stealth-like online.

So great! I’m not opening it until the baby comes and I have to lie in bed for 2 weeks. David says we can glean good child rearing tips from the show. I hope there are lots of extras on Daddy, the world’s best pitbull.

I have almost two weeks to go until my due date, and I am having a little moment of gratitude towards my Ashtanga practice for carrying me so safely and happily to this point. Right around the time I conceived, I felt incredibly vital. The daily practice had really softened and opened up my body. I felt equal parts strong and flexible, and I was up to any yoga challenge the practice could throw at me. I guess in some ways, I got my biggest yoga challenge yet. So far, I haven’t missed a practice. I hope I can continue to practice up to the day I give birth

When I was about 8 weeks pregnant, Joanne Darby told me, “Pregnancy is an intuitive time, just listen to your intuition and you will be fine.” That statement has been my guiding light for the past 8 months. I do think my practice has helped me immeasurably during the pregnancy. I don’t feel ill or really that tired. I never got crazy hungry. And unless I am in 38 degree weather, my ankles are a fairly recognizable part of  my legs. My only craving so far has been for lemonade, which doesn’t seem all that bad. I also know I have been very blessed with an easy pregnancy thus far, but I’m aware that the regulating properties of the Ashtanga system, the dailyness and vinyasa krama, have given my body and my baby an anchor.

At 6 weeks when I found out I was pregnant, I asked my doctor what was contraindicated for pregnancy particularly for the first 12 weeks when miscarriages are so common. I mentioned twists, backbends, jumping in vinyasas, and working up a sweat. My doctor, who isn’t usually nonchalant, brushed off my concerns. I went into further detail:

S: But we twist in half-lotus, against our knees! I drop backwards on to my hands! The room is a million degrees!

Dr.: You can stay in bed, or you can continue your regular activities. But either way, if nature intends you to keep this pregnancy, then you will keep it.

I thought that was a little granola for her regular bio-medical party line, but that has since been confirmed to me by other doctors and midwives. Miscarriages are natural and devastatingly common whether you do everything by the book or not. I can understand why people look for answers as to why miscarriages happen. All the reasons I have heard about why they occur from other people (she ran, she twisted, she jumped, she fell) seem to be trained on limiting the mother’s mobility and blaming her for whatever might go wrong. I decided to practice for the rest of my first trimester, but only because I felt like it.

David told me to stick to standing series for the remaining 6 weeks I had in my first trimester. In India, I don’t think Sharath would teach a pregnant woman for the first 3 months but that makes sense to me because he wouldn’t have a chance to have a regular and sustained teaching relationship with anyone because of his schedule. I did standing for a few days, but I wasn’t sick or nauseous and I felt better moving than sitting around. So after two days, I asked David in the car before Mysore if I could do the rest of primary. A week later, my backbends were still feeling good, and I asked if I could add on dropbacks, and that was OK too. The week after that I added on some intermediate, and David crouched down beside me in the room and said, “Umm. No. Just wait until 12 weeks.”

And the two of us just started a dialogue that went pretty much like that for the rest of the pregnancy. I get treated like any other student in the room, I get pulled up to the front, and my alignment is gently corrected. David has said no to me only one other time when I wanted to do kapotasana again in my 8th month. And he was right, both times.

Before I went to India in my second trimester, I practiced up to supta vajrasana. I wasn’t that big, so I rolled up two blankets and put one under my chest and the other under my pelvis for the intermediate backbends on the belly. In India, I practiced full primary. I wanted to be just another student in the room, not the pregnant lady who needs a lot of attention. I was so grateful that Sharath let me do what I could everyday. He told me to do trikonasana twice instead of twisting in the revolved version, but that was all. In retrospect, although it would terrify me when Sharath or Saraswathi would put me in some horrible spot in the room, they were treating me like any else – capable and strong. I think that says a lot about the two of them, considering the culture they live in – i didn’t see a single pregnant woman during my stay.

Now, I do primary, a non-twisty-more-squatting version of pasasana, krouchasana, ustrasana and then dropbacks. I do my full closing, because according to Saraswathi and the medical professionals I have talked to – the baby won’t turn around just because I am upside down. Although, the lovely midwife who practices at our studio told David that they recommend inversions when the baby is head up to try and move it head down, which is pretty cool.

Once you get pregnant, your body becomes everyone else’s business. You are relatively autonomous one day, and the next you are subject to a host of opinions – some kind, some a little mean but all well-intentioned. Certainly, most people have an opinion about Ashtanga and pregnancy and I have heard just about everything under the sun. While pregnancy is a condition, it isn’t disease or an illness. I think the misconceptions we spread about pregnancy and fitness are little off-shoots of misogyny. People would tell me not to do one pose or another, but then some people would also tell me that they thought I was having a boy because girls make you look fat and tired. Most of it is a big load of crap.

Pregnancy is crazy and amazing, and I think like parenting it defies expectations, fairness, and rules. It is nice to imagine that everyone will fit the same identifiable shape or follow the same developmental steps, but it seems to me that just like you get the kid you need, not the kid you think you want – you also get the pregnancy you need.

I do really hope that anyone reading my little blog will trust in themselves and the practice throughout pregnancy. I remember when I first got pregnant, and I read everything I could find about pregnancy and Ashtanga. Most of it was so incendiary, I remember one woman writing about how if you do headstand the baby’s arm will poke through the uterus. It made me so frightened to practice (Ok – not the baby’s hand thing – I have managed to retain a scrap of common sense throughout the past 9 months). To be honest, I’m not sure what the motivation is to scare women off practice. David has really helped me by letting me work, get sweaty and try every morning, but he has also helped by telling me when enough is enough and I need to soften and relax. Every morning, I don’t have to think or worry about what I should or shouldn’t be doing. My body and my baby are my guides. They surprise me everyday with what I can achieve.

I do less asana, but I think this pregnancy has made my practice much stronger.

(photos by Tim Bermingham)

Next post: I promise way more aliens and cockroach vampires and way less sycophantic yoga talk.

I’m officially full term now, so the baby could come at anytime. It doesn’t feel ready to come out though (READ: I’m not ready for it to come out).

Everything is pretty much the same: I am still a terrible mouth-breather, I still have to go to the bathroom about 40 times a day, and I can still bend backwards and do most of primary series – but I can’t seem to get my shoes on without collapsing in exhaustion. The only thing that is slightly different is my mind is 100% focused on how unprepared I am for the baby. When someone brings up a topic other than my baby (crazy!) I get slightly baffled. David had to remind me about the oil spill the other day.

The sad thing is I read the Globe cover to cover daily. Like, 11 people have died and the spill is an epic ecological disaster with countless sea creatures dying or suffering for years to come, BUT did you know that bassinet fitted sheets measure 18″ x 30″????

With brain function at an all time low, only small pieces of information can get through. David showed me this video last night, and because it didn’t involve any critical thinking it broke the baby fog. Don’t bother asking any questions, like “What is a slow loris?” or “What are they doing to that wild animal?”.  Just turn off your brain and press play.

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Personally, I like to rewind and watch on silent from the 0:37 mark. Over and over again. Sigh, it never gets old.

Last week at AYCT was pretty busy, we hit 91 people in morning Mysore. The rest of the week had over 80, even mother’s day. Actually, it was a little funny to see all the mothers that I don’t usually see on Sundays and all the young people rushing out, sweaty and red faced, to Sunday brunches.

AYCT is getting a little collection of videos. The adorable Nora made a fantastic short video about the tradition.

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Shanti and John’s nephew came in to make a video for a school project and thankfully, we didn’t scare him too much. David was actually about to eat an apple when they shot this but remembered the apple eating in Nora’s video and decided not to make it his thing.

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I love watching footage of the Mysore room. They should make a channel with Mysore rooms around the world. Ok – only me and some other geek would watch – but I find it very mesmerizing. Maybe, that channel could have a split screen with silly big-eyed monkey things and people practicing mysore-style.

24 hours of practicing and dum-dum animals. Sweet bliss! I might never have to turn on my brain again.

It was the perfect spring rain today. The kind you purposefully go for a walk in. The city had that slightly sooty smell when water hits concrete, but my backyard smells like fresh dirt.

May 5th was Dolly’s birthday. I thought I might scatter her ashes in the backyard on her birthday, but now I don’t really want to. I think I will carry her with me a little longer.

On Monday,  I went to Eynat’s house to take photos of my big belly. Eynat has a big belly of her own. Her baby girl is due a week before Mystery Baby. Eynat is lovely and so talented and relaxed. I had lots of fun rolling around on her floor for a few hours.

Photos: Eynat Don Photography

Practice is going pretty well, considering I just have 4 weeks to go. Since dropping my feeble attempts at Supta Kurmasana in favour making a diamond with my legs, hands reaching slightly towards my bum, and a positively Quasimodo-shaped back, I haven’t had to let anything else go. There have been some changes though: I noticed in led primary that during the week I am holding Halasana and Karna Pidasana for about about half the usual count to avoid being crushed by the enormous weight of my belly. Uth pluthi is the fastest 10 breaths in history and there are some face-wiping/shirt-fixing escape tactics cropping up in between Navasanas.

On the plus side, I am still doing my dropbacks with less dancing around my mat than last month. The first time I come up from standing, I am so winded, I behave like I just ran a marathon and pant with my head between my knees for a few minutes but I can still do the three on kinda the correct vinyasa. I love backbends right now.

We saw the midwife today at the clinic. There was a crazy/grumpy pregnant lady waiting with us. Sometimes crazy/grumpy people make me feel nervous, and sometimes their grumpyness makes me feel extremely sunny, which is maybe a little mean. Today, I felt really sunny and happy in the presence of big crustiness. The baby’s head is in a great position, the heartbeat was good, and Mary the midwife said “Nice, Really REALLY nice.” about 15 times. Then she told me she has no worries about me or the baby.

Maybe the dour pregnant lady in the waiting room was doing all the worrying for us.

If you have a problem that is keeping you up at night, just visualize the crabby pregnant woman in the waiting room huffing, puffing and pulling pieces of paper out of her wallet in fustrated attempt to organize.

Let the  unbalanced pregnant person take the weight of  your problems. She already has loads – what’s a few more?

And don’t feel bad – we’ve been doing it for centuries!

Happy New Moon!

No scary childbirth educational toys at last night’s prenatal class, thank goodness. Just the little cloth baby with a plastic head that our teacher demonstrates with and then disconcertingly throws around when she is finished demo-ing.

She asked us what we remembered from last week’s session.

D: Well that placenta toy.

T: Oh yes, what did you learn about that?

D: It haunted me.

T: OK…. And what about you, Stan?

We practiced breathing and David practiced rubbing my back. That was fun.  We learned about epidurals:

Ughh. My last two experiences with needles have been a little crummy. When you are pregnant they test you for everything under the sun, syphillus, rubella – whatever – you name it. The second last blood test I had was at Women’s College Hospital and the staff were training someone new. Because the skin on my arms is basically see-through they used me as a pin cushion for a trainee. She was nervous and her hand shook when she put the needle in. She had to take several vials of blood for each test and she kept filling them up to the very top. At one point the supervisor came back into the room and yelled at her for making all the vials overflow unnecessarily with my blood. Great.

The last time I had blood taken, it was at the midwife’s office with the student midwife – who is also just learning. She made a bit of a mistake and blood started spurting both inside and outside the vial. Suddenly, there was blood running down my arm, all over her hands and covering the pillow my arm was resting on. We both started apologizing to each other as the blood kept streaming down. I had a bruise on my arm for a week. Pregnant junkie is not a good look – in case you were wondering.

I’m done being helpful to the medical community. I’m going to need a resume from the next person who sticks a needle in me.

David and I ate chap chae on Bloor after the class. I love chap chae. We ate at 9:30p. Because we always eat at senior citizen’s hour, we spent most of the meal remarking on how amazing it was that the restaurant was open and people were there eating as well.

Tomorrow, I am back to practice. I was so grateful for the break today. I haven’t taken a day off practice in over two weeks, because I did a fantastic mysore with Kino on Saturday (David calls this a “bonus practice”) and the Saturday before I took Oliver’s beginner class. I am teaching Oliver’s class this Saturday, and now I know how he tortures his students with extra holds in chaturanga. I’m hoping if I talk in a really low voice and pretend to be much nicer than I really am, his students won’t mind his absence too much.

Have a great Thursday back.