When it comes to children's books, my dad tended toward "Goodnight Moon". A short sweet nocturnal send off to all the objects in the book and, for my dad, in the room. I'm going to guess that Goodnight, Larry Bird was said quite a few times as my dad sent me and my little sisters off to bed with the Celtics playing in the background. For me, however, I prefer "Alexander and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Day." The poor guy falls asleep with gum in his mouth, which winds up in his hair the next morning and that, my friends, is the BEST part of his day.
Today, I had an Alexander type of day.
After several pieces of stressful and disappointing news at work and enduring a permeating mist that created a Jackson-5-esque afro on my head, I accepted the fact that I- and perhaps the world- may have been better had I never arisen from bed this morning.
Following work, I drudged to my local yoga studio- traditionally my haven in a crazy, crazy world. The class is co-taught and has a theme each week. Last week's perfect theme was 'hips', I left loosey-goosey, flexible and zen. This week's theme: arm balances. GULP. After several misguided attempts at balancing my shoulder on my arm, my hips on my arm or my ENTIRE BODY on my arm we arrived at the mother of all arm balances- the hand stand. We partnered up, in an effort to support and guide each other toward upside down bliss. My partner, a lovely elderly woman with a bird-like frame, was not the optimal match for me- but I was closing in on zen and I decided to go with it. After a few failed attempts, the yoga teacher stepped in to help in my quest. With her expert help, I FLOATED up: my legs hung GRACEFULLY above my body and then...she dropped me. On my head.
SHE DROPPED ME ON MY HEAD.
Frigging namaste people.
I think I'll move to Austrailia to hang with Alexander.
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