I learned this week…
…that “yoga for a grade” is the gift that keeps on giving. I realize that perhaps I am beating a proverbial dead horse with this one, but good grief, in every class something jaw-droppingly fabulous/horrific occurs. I can’t sit idly by and not write about it. So, please, bear with me. The end of the semester will come soon enough.
…that, in keeping with the above theme, my yoga instructor’s idea of a quiz is my worst nightmare. Last week, she gave us a nifty little handout with elementary drawings of various poses and a listing of their correct names. We could expect our first quiz the following week [this week]. Okay. No big deal, after all, this is a “for grade” course. Grades have to come from somewhere. So, on quiz day, she comes in five minutes late, disheveled, and lugging a stack of unorganized copy paper. She proceeds to sit down on the floor, in a graceful position only a seasoned dancer could muster, and pulls out a pair of scissors. We all sat on our mats staring at her, confused by her odd behavior. She didn’t keep us in suspense for long. As she cut a single sheet of paper into thin strips, she leveled the room with a bomb of such magnitude that its reverberation could be felt clear to the Oklahoma state line. Our quiz, it turns out, would not entail a grouping of pictures and a word bank – as so promised. It wouldn’t even have anything to do with the handout she provided to us. No, instead we would be required to demonstrate an assigned pose at the front of the class, with the wall of shame mirrors at our backs. Holy shit batman, shoot me now. I count myself as one who came out of this horrifying experience largely unscathed. While I did receive the dreaded number one slot, I escaped any real humiliation. My pose was simple – Prayer pose. However, there were those among us who did not fare so well. I feel quite certain the girl who was saddled with the dreaded “happy baby” pose is plotting some fantastic revenge. The glint in her eye at the end of class was downright frightening.
…that today is Dr. Seuss’ birthday. I did know this, but I didn’t remember until I stumbled across the headline on my favorite news outlet’s website. Of course, the headline also asked readers to vote for their top pick of Seuss movies. This kinda irked me. Dr. Seuss wrote books. I think it would be a more interesting poll, and one truer to the memory of Seuss’ legacy, to ask readers to give the name of their favorite book. So, I ask: What is your favorite Dr. Seuss book? Mine is And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry Street.
…that there is a “war on women” brewing in this country. Though, I can’t help but wonder if it is all just an elaborate smoke screen fabricated to distract voters from the fact that none of this country’s politicians – and I mean none of them – know what the heck they are doing.
…that this week the great State of Texas will celebrate 176 years of independence. I’m not a native Texan. I was born in Florida to parents that hail from New England. My father was in the military so I’ve lived in my share of locations – some of them wildly wonderful, some of them not so much. Of them all, Texas is by far the most unique place I’ve ever called home. I didn’t always feel that way, but once the culture shock wore off, I got a whiff of something in the air – something intangible. Something that smelled a lot like pride. There is an independent spirit here that transcends even national patriotism. Don’t get me wrong, Texans have a deep love for their country, they just love their state a smidgen more. It’s an infectious thing. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Well…of course, that is unless the American people jump the shark and elect Newt or Rick to the presidency. If that happens, I’m moving back to Europe. Texas independent spirit and pride be damned.
…that Davy Jones died. I’ve long maintained that the 60s produced some of the greatest Rock & Roll music ever attributed to the genre. I don’t care if you agree with my assessment or not. I know good music when I hear it. Now, I will admit that The Monkeys pale in comparison to say…the Beatles, but they are still relevant to the overall cultural phenomenon of the musical era. Plus, they were just great fun. Davy Jones will be missed.
…and last, but not least, this week’s awww moment is brought to you by this adorable kitty. Is he stuck? Is he stalking you? I don’t know, but I bet if you venture a little closer, you’re sure to find out.
***Big thanks to Bill Chance for providing me with this link:
Of Bears and Boating 
Oh yeah, let me know what you think of Cassandra Clare.
My daughter devoured all of Clare’s books including the City of Bones series. She absolutely loved them. I am still working on The Clockwork Angel and so far it is really good. It’s not my usual sort of story but my daughter insisted that I would love them too. She is very involved with the characters and is chomping at the bit for the next installment.
I didn’t realize until our trip was almost over that whenever anybody in England asked me where I was from, I always said Texas and nobody was confused. Maybe it was because I had never been out of the country before and was not used to having to specify which nation, but for whatever reason, Texas came to mind. And yeah, the Texans I know tend to think Texas first, which doesn’t mean they don’t love the US.
I did the same thing when I visited my friend in Rome. Her friends would ask me where I was from and I immediately said Texas. Of course that always spurred a much larger conversation because they (Romans at least) were intrigued by the idea of Texas.
The kitten is too much!
That reminds me of Dad. He loved the Monkees.