Misti: “I need money. Because I want a new Mac Pro…and to go to London to see my boyfriend, Michael Phelps in the next summer olympics….and do fencing.”

Me: “But you can do fencing. There’s those classes at Redlands. They have ads in The Gazette all the time.”

Misti: “They have classes for that?!? At Redlands?!?”

Me: “Yeah! The ads are always in The Gazette.”

Misti: “They have classes on putting in fencing? At Redlands?”

Me: “Wait…you meant fencing as in fence-in-your-yard fencing. Not the swashbuckling kind? Well, then no. They don’t have those kind of classes at Redlands.”

If you knew Misti, you would totally make the same assumption that she meant the swashbuckling kind of fencing.

Chris and I worked hard in 2004 registering people to vote, working with the Red River Democracy Project, and attending rallies. We wanted to believe in change and we wanted to believe in John Kerry. The day after voting day in November was one of the most depressing days. I felt like a failure and I felt utterly hopeless. I felt like I didn’t belong here. I just couldn’t fathom the idea that there was such a majority of people out there who didn’t believe in health care for everyone, and who didn’t believe that we should give our troops and veterans (all of them) the medical care they deserved and needed, and who didn’t believe that it is just plain wrong to pass on such the financial burden created by pursuing horrible economic policies to our children and grandchildren.

We have been quietly sitting on the sidelines this election year. Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited about our democratic nominee. He’s the best candidate. Part of me just wants to be giddy with the prospects. But after the devastation of 2004, I just couldn’t invest that much heart into something like this again. Which is to say, I’ve finally lost my idealism (thanks very much Bush administration). I’ve been watching the Democratic National Convention in Denver haphazardly this week, catching the speeches the next day on YouTube. Last night, we went to a watch party for the Obama speech. For a tiny instant, that spark and rush of excitement hit me and I thought “we may actually pull this off”. You see…I’m so jaded that I still can’t give in. I’ll be holding my breath until the day after we vote. And my new mantra is “just don’t fuck it up, just don’t fuck it up, just don’t fuck it up”.

Oklahoma City schools are back in session, so I decided today would be a good time to attempt getting my motorcycle license. I felt that things were leaning in my favor when I arrived at ten till 7:00 (AM) and there were only ten people in line before me.

I have to say that the DMV is a very interesting place. Apparently it was Asian day at the DMV, because there were several oriental people there getting their driver’s license. There were these two guys, driving the same car, who both wanted to get their driver’s license. They kept walking away from the counter whenever the DMV agent would ask for a certain form like insurance or ID and she kept having to call them back over. I was given a time for my driving test and I went outside to wait with my scooter. The first dude took his test and then parked right next to me. The second guy got into the car for his test and started backing up…and backing up…and backing up. Then the guy administering his test told the dude to just drive forward and park it. He didn’t pass, but Hey! his friend did! Then there was a little old oriental lady parked on my other side. The DMV agent noticed that the old lady didn’t have a current tag and wouldn’t let her take the test at all. The poor thing got in her car and then put it in drive to back out of her parking space…twice.

There were several people there for the motorcycle test. The guy who went just before me was older and had been riding for a while with out his license. He parked next to me when he came back from his test. I got to hear how he did from the DMV agent. He failed because he rolled through the stop signs. I was extra nervous when it was my turn. But I passed! My only problem was going to slow (35 in a 40). I was so excited, I made the DMV agent be in my 365 day picture. She wasn’t sure what to think about that, but it made her chuckle and that’s something she probably doesn’t do very often with her job.

I’m not sure, but I think these yoga teacher training weekends are getting easier. It may just be because we really didn’t do much yoga until Sunday afternoon and the rest of the time was sitting in lecture. This month we learned about the Kriya Shatkarmas and we were paired up to do a presentation on one of the kriyas.

The kriyas are six purification processes often performed by yogis. Some of them, well actually all of them sound down right disgusting. The big thing was to show a YouTube video of someone actually performing the kriya you were assigned to present. Thankfully there were not videos available for all the kriyas, like the one that involves sucking water (through a tube) up into your lower intestines or swallowing 23 feet of cotton string and then pulling it back out through the mouth. Yeah, some of the kriyas just do not seem physically possible. But I did learn the correct way to use my neti pot. I’ve been using a neti pot since January and it’s been really helpful in preventing sinus infections, but I was having problems with water draining into my ears and feeling panicky while using my neti pot. I don’t have that problem any more.

We are constantly being told at the trainings that we are teaching people to breath calmly in stressful situations. If you are breathing erratically and shallow while holding a particular yoga pose, you are not getting the benefits of yoga. You are not learning to relax and be in the pose. I realized that my training has helped me when I take a yoga class taught by a teacher with a different yoga style/philosophy. I dragged my ass out of bed this morning and made it to the yoga class at the Y. The teacher has a tendency to make me cringe, but today I approached each pose with a calm and even breath while others around me panted and groaned and when I felt like it was just too much, I backed off from the pose and rested…with out guilt.

I’ve got a major case of the blahs. It might have something to do with the weather. It’s been rainy and cool, which is uncharacteristic for OK in August. I feel like I was gypped out of a summer. We only had one week of 105 degree temps. That’s not right. I’m hoping for an indian summer.

I also have scooter blues. With the weather being so crappy, I haven’t had a chance to get out on the scooter and practice. I want to take my driving test next week (schools will be back in session). Chris said the other day that I was acting like a teenager waiting to get her driving license. In true immature fashion, I told him he was ruining my life and to shut up.

About the only enthusiasm I could muster this week was when I went to Home Depot with Ms. Swan. We scheduled an appointment for them to come measure windows. Windows with screens. Windows that open. Windows that don’t leak air (and bugs) into the house. I’m more excited about being able to open windows and have fresh air floating through the house. I’m tired of smelling like fried rice.

Yeah…I know I have this thing called a blog. But other then the totally awesome Dave Matthews concert, I really don’t have much to say. I still don’t have my motorcycle license (maybe nest week). I’ve been busy with yoga homework (crap! forgot to email my teacher about my latest teaching experience). I’ve also been crazy busy with work (paper coming out soon!).

I have not been watching the summer Olympics, even though I love the summer Olympics. I’m boycotting this year on principle. The list of complaints and controversy is a mile long and I’m sure you’ve all heard them. This is my little stand (it’s hurting no one but me).

I’ve finished two more books form my bargain stack. The first was The Russian Concubine by Kate Furnivall. I really enjoyed this book. It was just a good escape book. It started out kind of slow, but once I got hooked, I didn’t want to put it down. I love that Furnivall based her story on her mother’s experience as a White Russian. The second book was Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin. Totally improbable, but wonderful. It didn’t even bother me that I figured out who the murderer was half way into the book. It was still fun and exciting.

That’s about it really. I started The Cape Ann by Faith Sullivan, but I just can’t get into it. I may skip it and move on to the Twilight series by Stephanie Meyer. What I really need to do is focus on my yoga books and homework. They need to invent motivation fill-up stations. I’m low.

Me: “I heard this guy telling this story at the DMV about one of his friends. They had bought a brand new Lincoln SUV thing for their 16 year-old. Then the kid busted a headlight and it cost something like $5,000 to fix.”

Chris: “So…these people are not only stupid. They’re rich?!? Why are stupid people always rich?”

Me: “I don’t know. Do we need to be stupid?”

Chis: “I guess. Do you want to start voting republican?”

Yesterday I went to the DMV to get my motorcycle license. They’ve closed a bunch of the DMV Exam Stations due to a budget crunch, so the one I had to go to was not close to the house. Since I thought I’d be taking a driving test, I had to ride my scooter out there and find a way to do it with out getting on a highway.

Chris and I have been practicing riding through our neighborhood. We’re nervous about getting out on city streets with out actually having our license for obvious legal reasons. Yesterday was my first time out on real streets with real speed limits. Luckily it was early and traffic was light. The DMV opens at 7 AM and I wanted to be there when the doors opened. So did about fifty other people. I got there at ten till seven and there were already about fifty people in front of me in line. Some of them had been camped out side since 4 AM.

I realized that all those jokes I’d heard about the DMV are true. There were already so many people there, that they had booked all their driving tests for the day. All I could do was take my written which I didn’t get to take until almost 9:30 (yup two and half hours later). But I passed! I have ninety days to get the driving portion done. Even though I was not really legal, I went ahead and took my scooter to work. It was great! I was a little nervous, but I didn’t have any problems. The coolest thing was passing these big Harley riding dudes and having them wave at me. I grinned from ear to ear and very cautiously returned the wave. Beep beep!

I’ve thought about this entry off and on for a long time. Do I post something so open and honest when I know who reads this blog? Every anniversary I sit down and write this post and end up erasing it. August 1st, 2005 was a day that reset all the calendars and clocks. Has it only been three years? Some times that horrible day and following weeks flood into my brain like a tidal wave and I feel myself gasping and reaching for something to scrape the images from my brain. Other times it feels like it all happened a life time ago.

So, after three years, are we better? I think some of us have survived better then others. It’s kind of like taking a group of people and cutting off one arm from each and then waiting around to see who adapts and who gives up. That’s the best way to explain my family. Some of us have let go of the grief. Some of us have let our grief fester into a disease. We all deal with it in our own way. It’s not neat, but in fact very messy and ugly at times, but we do what we got to do to get by.

I think it took me three years to get over the numbness in order to grieve. I find myself thinking a lot about J and about stupid things we did as kids. I cry more now then before. Little things set me off like the opening scene in Ironman or ironing an old shirt of Chris’s that I thought was clean and finding a handful of cough-drop wrappers in the front pocket. I had eaten those things like candy during the funeral. It still makes me angry when someone tells me “thank you for your sacrifice” or “He died for our freedom”. The last one is the worst. I want to punch the person in the face it makes me so angry. If they’re stupid enough to say it, then they’re too stupid to get why it makes me angry. So I smile politely and say thank you and move on. And I guess I can look back on these last three years as a lesson in moving on.