Namaste!

Yoga is one of the ways I take care of myself ("Be your own cause," my employer says). I've got a mean "down dog," and I can warrior with the best of them. I loved my teacher Eva, who was lithe and pretty with a husky soothing voice. Her classes were awesome, mostly yoga with a little bit of pilates thrown in. Unfortunately when Eva moved on to other things, I took a break from classes for a while. It just didn't seem right without her. She was my first.

But after a few weeks I started feeling sloppy again, and my muscles were getting way too tight when I ran. So I decided to try the teacher who replaced Eva. Turns out Diane is good too, although different. There were new students as well. The best (and by "best" I mean worst") part of a bunch of new students is their lack of control. Not in holding a pose, but in holding their poots. Seriously, I was trapped in a room full of post-menopausal fat ladies all doing the mystical "one cheek sneak."

I suppose it's good that they're their own cause so I shouldn't complain. I just wish we could open a window.