Restored

A few days ago I was driving through nearby town and saw new yoga studio. I was all "whoa there pardner....this is south/wesside not airy-fairy tofu eatin' north shore." Then had deep sigh of relief down to my chai-drinking, vegan casserole loving, om chanting toes. Finally for once, the mountain has come to Muhammad!

So I signed myself up for Restorative Yoga on Tuesday nights. Short lived as we're off to Australia in a few days, but making it part of my regularly scheduled programming upon my return. It was bliss. My lower back was sore in ways I was not even remotely aware of.

On drive back the rain was falling lightly on the windshield, tradewinds were whipping the trees, jazz was coming over the local community radio station, i actually remembered to fill my water bottle for once and then....phone rings. It was Nick. He sounded...defeated.

"Are you...uh, heading back?"

"Yup"

"If Jarah freaking out was on scale of 1-10 he'd be at a 10. It's been over 20min"

Pulled into driveway to hear little guy screaming his guts out for all he's worth. I scooped him up, he got a whiff of mama milk and calmed right down. Thank god for mammaries.

That or my restored, zenified spirit