In the beginning of 2009, I had never been camping, never seen Tombstone, and never done yoga. Two out of the three things have now been crossed off the list. My faithful readers know about the night I watched Tombstone, and I had since tried out yoga.
I have recently started attending a yoga class. And when I say attend, I mean a nice yoga lady comes over to Friend-Who-Cooks-Pancakes's (heretofore FWCP) house and gives us a private class. It's awesome. FWCP and I had been researching the various yoga studios around town, none of which offered beginning classes at times convenient for us. We also were not too excited about the prospect of a spirituality-based yoga class with serious yogites and instructors who don't think talking or giggling during class is appropriate and definitely don't let you listen to AC/DC.
Then we found Dirty-Yoga-Teacher. She's awesome. I'm all stretchy and flexy now because we just had an hour-plus long class in the comfort of FWCP's home, and she never once mentioned "connecting to a higher spirit," and she giggled at FWCP's multiple "That's-what-she-said" jokes. (Try to imagine all the That's-what-she-said possibilities in a yoga class ... "open your hips" ... "next position"... limitless.) She even let us play AC/DC during the intense set of Sun Salutations.
The best part is not having to be quiet. FWCP and I would most certainly be kicked out of a yoga studio, even if we kept our giggling to a minimum. It's nice to be able to groan and cry a little bit about your aching joints and even better to be allowed to laugh when FWCP falls over. Dirty-Yoga-Teacher is also very good about dealing with the competitiveness that takes over, as in: "how come she can touch her toes and I can't?" and I say "I'm better than you are" and D-Y-Teacher steps in and says "Hey, we're all pretty here ... now drop to your hands and knees" and FWCP says "That's what she said" and then we all giggle and are friends again.
We're also considering trying out Hot Yoga sometime. And by Hot Yoga, we mean maybe going up to the rooftop of the Monkey Wrench in July , stretching a bit, then having margaritas post-relaxation.
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