What I'm Thinking About Wednesday

Went to my second yoga class . . . yeeowch! My poor legs are desperately trying to figure out what they've done to be punished so.

Cooked this for dinner tonight and it was delish -- really, tofu is fantastic when cooked correctly. You should try it. Come on, don't be a hater. Plus, having tofu for dinner means you can also have this, made with fresh blueberries and frozen strawberries from the dad's patch. Also delish.

You can SO be a hater when it comes to James Dobson. I suffer no qualms from emphatically EXcluding him from . . . well, whatever I can exclude him from. Narrow-minded git.

I hope someone else out there is as excited about all those little (well, not really so little) Earth-like planets out there as I am. E.T., phone home, already, dude! We've missed you!

See, Reverand Roper? I WAS Listening.

Yesterday, my minister spoke on the problems of an "either/or" society. He talked about how people are always shoved into a group, either you're black or white, or Democrat or Republican, Voldemort or Harry, etc., etc. It was a pretty good sermon, I thought, one that pleased li'l ol' liberal me but also made me think about my own divisions, like "either you're liberal or you're Satan."

I probably shouldn't think like that. In fact, I'm wondering if my minister has been listening in on my thoughts and directed that sermon directly at me.

Come on, you know I don't REALLY think non-liberals are Satan, don't you? I mean, you read that post down there about my great dad, who is decidedly non-liberal, right? I'm inclusive, aren't I?

(I know at least one person doesn't think I'm very inclusive. But that dude was SUCH an annoying defendant, and he drove everyone crazy in court today, not just me, and anyway, I refuse to believe that I am an "oppresser" who is going to hell, like he said. At least not for oppressing, anyway . . . but I digress.)

So, today, I overheard a co-worker on the phone (paper-thin cubicle walls, you know), and her side of the conversation went something like this:

"So, honey, I was wondering, did you call the coach to add Little Billy (names changed to protect the innocent) to the roster? . . . Oh, good, because I happened to think, you can't do that. . . . Well, because he's not Catholic. . . . I know, they ATTENDED, but he was never BAPTIZED, and I just don't think we should even GO there. . . . Well, I'm glad I caught you before you opened that can of worms."

Huh. I suppose we should all be grateful that the trauma of some heathen non-baptised kid playing summer ball with good little Catholic kids was avoided. I mean, really, would you want to GO THERE?

I didn't think so.

Inclusivity's a bitch.

I'm Writing This in a Lotus Position

In keeping with the plan of my 101 things in 1001 days, I attended my first ever Yoga class this week.

In an oh-so-fortuituous move, my YMCA added to its current lineup of Yoga I and Power Yoga a new class, Remedial Yoga for Dummies. (Okay, they call it Yoga Foundations, or something boring like that, but we all know it's Remedial Yoga for Dummies.)

I was pretty stoked when I walked into a dimly-lit room with new-agey music playing, and the instructor informed us that this was OUR yoga practice, that the next 45 minutes were OURS, and ordered us to let go of the stresses of the day . . . cool. From there, though, while I was still waiting for someone to come along and offer me a pedicure, and a nice cup of tea with milk, and oh, while we're at it, some dessert, she calmly demonstrated the downward dog, told us to try it, and FORGOT ABOUT US.

I am not kidding. That yoga instructor went outside, had HER pedicure and dessert, then a post-pedicure cigarette, and I swear, she may have had a not-so-quickie, all while I was still hanging upside down in a damn downward dog. SERIOUSLY, it was at least an hour. Maybe two.

Then. Then, she calmly instructs us to raise our right leg up behind our heads, then SWING it through the middle, place our knee directly below our right hand, our ankle directly below our left hand, then LAY DOWN on top of our poor right leg, which had never, ever done anything to deserve such an indignity.

I tell you what, I had never considered doing such a thing with my right leg before. And I was completely astonished (did I tell you that astonished is my new favorite word? because it is, for some reason) that my leg would do such a thing.

Well, sort of. While my legs were pretty okay with being raised up behind my head, and actually pretty excited about the whole make-like-a-pretzel endeavor, the SWINGING through the middle was more of a flop it down underneath, then use both hands to haul it through the middle and prod it into place.

Let's not even mention the whole "shoulder stand" episode, which was much less like something I remember from my cheerleading days, and more like a try-out for Cirque du Soleil.

Namaste, indeed.

Happy Day-After Father's Day

Yesterday, for Father's Day, Todd and I hosted the WHOLE group of people we consider family at a backyard cookout. It was busy and hot, and fun and exhausting.

Every time I find myself shopping for a Father's Day card, I feel a bit envious of the easy relationship that is portrayed on those cards. That Hallmark-y, starry-eyed, he's-the-first-man-I-ever-wanted-to-marry-and-he-taught-me-how-to-fish-and-hit-a-softball kind of relationship.

Because I don't know about you and your father, but that's not the kind of relationship I have with my father.

My father and I disagree on a bunch of stuff; big things like politics and religion and politics and life goals and oh, yeah, politics. But I have a tremendous amount of love respect for him. Where he has ended up is so far from where he started that it's astonishing. That journey has made him a man who just brims over with love and kindness and a generosity the likes of which I have never seen in anyone else. And while his is not the life I have chosen for myself, it's nice to get to be a tourist into it once in awhile, and invite him into mine on occasion.

That he loves me unconditionally, I have never questioned. And isn't that truly, at the heart of things, what makes a man a father?

To me, a real father-daughter relationship doesn't make for a very good Hallmark card: too many sharp edges, and corners you don't look at too closely, and fuzzy bits, and sentiments that don't fit into a neat rhyme.

But it's real. And it's better. And really, when I think about it, I'm not THAT envious of the Hallmark fathers and daughters. Softball was just never my thing, anyway.

Monday Recap

I don't mean to brag, but I had a great weekend.

After Todd finished a stressful trial on Friday (which he won, by the way), we IMMEDIATELY headed out of town to Carter Caves State Resort Park. People kept asking me where Carter Caves is, to which I could really only reply, " . . . um . . . East, sort of," and East it is.

Friday night we indulged in lots of snacks from Whole Foods, a dinner that I always think is going to be economical, and never is, but is always tasty. Then we went to bed and DIDN'T SET THE ALARM.

Scary, I know.

Amazingly, we didn't sleep ALL day on Saturday, and managed to work in a cave tour (doncha just love caves?), some serious laying by the pool (for me), a mountain bike ride (for Todd), an incredibly fattening dinner, miniature golf (Todd won, but I let him), and a lovely moonlit walk.

Whew!

You might think that Sunday we had used up all our activities, but no! Sunday brought horseback riding, a leisurely drive home, strawberry picking, then strawberry freezing and dehydrating.

I admit, I approached Monday with a bit of trepidation after all that fun, but Monday managed to redeem itself when I settled the icky trial I was going to be starting, and had my first violin lesson in two years, which didn't suck ONE BIT.

All in all, this weekend, it was good to be a Lewis.