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Kansas City MO 64131





Cindy Maddera

The other day, I went to yoga class and we had a substitute teacher. She had us attempt and or do Urdhva Parivrtta Janu Sirsasana, which I twisted myself into with zero effort. I was the oldest person in class that day and I could hear the other students grunting and struggling with the pose while I hung out with a smile on my face. This is a total brag. I know that. I know that it's not even a humble brag. I can bend myself into a pretzel, take that you young whipper snappers you. Arm balances on the other hand, elude me. One of those young whipper snappers asked me after class how long I'd been practicing yoga and I had to stop and do some math. I was twenty one when I started taking my first yoga class. I have been practicing yoga for eighteen years. I have been on my mat at the very least once a week for eighteen years. There have been months here and there where I have fallen off my mat, but I've always gotten back on and I do that almost daily now. So of course I can bend myself into a pretzel. Truthfully I should be better at arm balances, but I am guilty of avoiding poses in my practice that I just don't enjoy doing. 

Thursday morning I woke in the disguise of a cantankerous old biddy. I felt mean, like I was ready to pick a fight, post some inflammatory statement on facebook or punch someone. Those things could have easily happened and I finally reached a moment in my day where I felt I had stewed over nothing for long enough. I picked up my yoga mat and headed over to the gym and rolled out my mat. And at the end of my practice, I felt less like punching someone. I know I've talked so many times about my yoga practice here and after awhile it's all blah blah yoga blah. Also I know that I talk about all the times I don't get on my mat, those weeks where I miss a bunch of days. I do miss a lot of days. Sometimes I have a week where my mat sees the light of day only one time. Yet, lately, I am more likely to get on my yoga mat then I am to pick up a book. 

Michael has told me that I have one job next week. My job is to get up in the mornings, take my yoga mat down to the beach and do yoga. Every morning. That is exactly what I am going to do. I have panicked all week about things I need to pack. Last night I put all of my summer clothes in the suitcase. All of them. I zipped up the suitcase and set it the living room where I stared at it for an hour. Then I picked it up, placed it back on the bed where I unzipped it and removed half of the things. The Cabbage will be wearing underwear in the car ride down on Sunday, because every bit of summer clothing I have for her is packed. I've upgraded her toy bag from my medium sized canvas World Market tote to a giant IKEA bag. Today we take Josephine to the vet to be boarded while we are away. We also scheduled for her to get spayed during this time. I've been a wreck for days about this. It just seems like an awfully long time for her to be away from me. I have spent extra time scratching her belly and letting her chew on me, but I still predict some tears when we drop her off.  My unofficial job this week has been to worry about all of the things. 

I am thankful that even though I have been worrying about all of this stuff, Michael has been standing by constantly telling me not to worry. He keeps reminding me that we are going to have so much fun in Alabama. He keeps reminding me that I only have one job and that's yoga. I am grateful. To be able to even go on this trip is a gift. The Cabbage dances in her recital tomorrow night. Randy and Katrina are coming up to see her dance and meet the chickens. Then on Sunday morning, we load up and head south. So...things are going to be quite around here next week. I'm not taking my laptop or my iPad. The phone is a necessity, but my plan is to only use it occasionally to take some pictures. The Nikon is already packed and Elephant Soap is on vacation.

Here's to a lovely weekend and hoping that your next week is full of ease. And here's to a wonderful Thankful Friday.