During that difficult period I had the good fortune of connecting with The High Priestess who helped me through that anxious chapter by teaching me how to breathe. Turns out I’d been holding my breath for most of my adult life. She introduced me to a practice that changed my life.

All though her post today took me back to a couple of awkward moments of my youth and I started thinking about how many times I’ve been flashed by a stranger. Three times that I can distinctly remember. All male. All in public places.

My old neighborhood, I was 12-ish and riding my bike when a man pulled up and wanted directions, as I approached the car…well, you know.

Fassnight pool. I was in my late teens sunning with my girlfriend. A guy in very short cut-offs pulled up to the chain link on a bicycle and leaned against the fence and dangled his bits.

Smitty’s Liquor/Video department. I was moonlighting there and a creepy customer was letting it air out. Where’s the thrill?

Thanks for that unleashing that repressed memory.

Don’t forget to breathe.

We decided to push it on the elliptical machine this week, and nearly stroked out. A couple of people wanted to know if I’d been crying. It was that bad. Not my best look.

Whenever I encounter a dedicated fit person, if they’ll allow it, I shake their hand and try to download some of their power. However, I think the timing is off, I need to catch them before the workout and not after….when they are all limp and sweaty. Somehow, the energy is not transferring.

Overheard: one lady trying to get credit for the spin class she’d signed up for. Turns out, she felt like she’d been assaulted by a bike seat.

A yoga nugget from June-I’m-Gonna-Eat That:

I was nearing the end of the workout, and we went into Corpse Pose, which many say is the hardest pose to master. You lie on your back, hands at your side, and completely relax. You don’t move. It’s harder than it sounds.

“You look actually dead,” Marvin said between spaghetti consumption. “Now I’m picturing you actually dead and I’m getting upset.”

Who knew that corpse pose was difficult to master? Now it makes sense. I once had a yoga teacher who would scold me for twitching while trying to relax in corpse pose. That helps.

Fitness attire in the office: It’s what not to wear. In another life I worked in an office with a co-worker who was training for a marathon. He’d do an early morning run and then stroll the halls in his costume, stopping to stretch occasionally as the eight o’clock crowd started rolling in. There were several mornings that I spewed hot coffee upon a sighting.

Oh baby, it’s good. Let’s recap, shall we?

Friday Yoga was divine. The opening and unkinking, good medicine. Frankly, we fought the urge to skip the session, no time for navel gazing or staring at my Big Toe. There’s Work To Be Done! With the holidays, illness, death, taxes, and our covert operations, it’s just hard to carve out the time. Believe me, it was time Well Spent.

It was good, and the seamless breathing took on the image of a tear drop. It’s been a tragic week on the local scene. We were reminded of all the families we’ve served as we cleaned out the files earlier this week. Each stack representing families and friends across the nation that have lost a loved one. The image wasn’t disturbing, it felt like I was honoring the families and the names.

My teacher uses a slower gentler practice that suits me well. While I don’t consider myself a purist, I guess I prefer a more traditional practice. No Yoga-blend with Madonna music or fitness balls. That’s a different class.

Later that day we strolled up to the hillbilly home gym for some calisthenics and met with the advisory team for some team building exercises.

On the way, we noticed that our neighbor to the east has cleaned out the car. I wanted to try to get a picture. Over the past month the interior of the car had morphed into either a closet or laundry basket with clothes piled to the ceiling and beginning to land on the hood and the trunk. It was a growing pile of moldy clothes. Shew!

Kidz in the Hood or “go play in the street.” :

Fox on the Run:

Thanks to Bus Plunge for the tip.

Keeping in the animal theme, Google analytics reveal that curious minds want to know: Where do squirrels go when they die?

And then this: “hi, do you havr this urn in a smaller size? i have my rats ashes of about 3-4 tablespoons. if not what could you recomend? is a keepsake too small?”

It’s time to get a new camera. I can’t do much about the shaky hand that holds the camera, but I can upgrade my tools. Thanks to the tip from Granny, I’m gonna take her advice:

In my purse, I ALWAYS carry a Sony Cybershot 7.2 megapixel camera with a Carl Zeiss 3x optical zoom lens.

For the Chihuly photos, I set the camera on “Shoot low-light scene without flash.” Model number is DCS W80.

I’ve had the camera for about 6 months: it’s drop-dead simple to operate and weighs almost nothing. Battery life is awesome.

Deep Thoughts: MTV and VH1 have replaced the early morning Saturday morning cartoons of my childhood.