The Dance of the Super Klutz Fairy

I have limited dexterity. Truly. I am so prone to random accidents and unbelievably strange incidents that I've become great friends with my optometrist (even having his cell number saved in my phone for emergencies!) and the entire chiropractic staff at two different clinics knows me by name when I walk in the door, asking about my hobbies, my family and my most recent injury bringing me in their door... again. Also, my dentist and I are on a first-name basis (along with the marvelous dental hygienist mentioned in my first post "Welcome Blog-o-philes") and it's almost become comic how many times I've had my chipped front teeth fixed. Including one incident involving my knee, a too-squishy couch and a Smirnoff Raz bottle ONE WEEK after having the OTHER front tooth fixed (from tearing a tag out of clothing with my front teeth that had one of those little plastic strands - they are tougher than they look!) and then a week later coming back in for the other front tooth that I chipped on the bottle. He actually started laughing! But just because I lived in a northernmost state I refused to look like a deranged redneck missing part of my front tooth. Either one of them!

I tripped over a pair of shoes by the door and rolled my ankle over, crashing it full-force onto hardwood, actually dislocating a bone in my foot that a chiropractor had to put back in (yes, just one of MANY things I have gone to see him for) and I've sprained an ankle stepping off a curb onto a rock that rolled, then had to drag myself out to the barn (since I didn't have a vehicle or even my bike at that point.... but it did help me meet one of my very bestest friends and the Matron of Honor in my wedding as her parents thankfully pulled over and offered me a ride!) Before that ankle had fully healed, it gave way while I was rushing down the stairs and I went tail-over-teakettle down a half flight of them in a college dorm with many, many, many onlookers (who were laughing and no one helping me!) I ended up with such a bad sprain by the time I made it out to the barn, (this time no ride was available) the bottom of my foot was black with congealing blood and I had a green streak already forming up the outside of my leg most of the way to my knee! I've been bucked off horses, taken jumps sans horse, popped my hips out of their sockets landing still in some version of 2 point over the fence but without a horse beneath me. (Thankfully they popped back in when I pushed over onto my side and hit the sand!) I've dislocated my shoulder 3 times I know of, my kneecap several times (and put it back in myself), torn a hamstring, pulled butt muscles (after laughing at my mom for pulling hers while skiing Karma promptly paid me back and I pulled mine the following day!) I have walked into street signs while talking to a friend, slipped on frost-slick concrete in a barn and did a soft-tissue injury to a kidney falling against a stall latch, I've ripped my big toenail up dragging a box with my brother in it OVER the top of my toe and lifting the entire nail away from the bed. Of course, I've had the standard growing-up injuries: skinned knees, scraped elbows, and of course, throwing a dart into my brother's foot (but more on that in a future post.) I've gone over the handlebars of my mountain bike and sprained two fingers (even now they lean a bit left, it seems to me....)

I've gotten a concussion getting kicked in the eye in a TKD tournament, been briefly knocked out in a sparring match years later (of COURSE the one I encouraged my mom to come see!) and I've wiped out on painted concrete floors doing high kicks and bounced my head off the floor.  I've had horses come up on me and had to bail off, my mare did a somersault without me, thankfully, that ripped up my knee pretty thoroughly. I've had my knee bashed into trees, and once in Wyoming I was bucked off into a wall (left a pretty dirt smudge that the fellow equestrians outlined in chalk and labelled with my name) and had to get my elbow x-rayed to be sure it wasn't broken. Thankfully, it wasn't, but it did stay black and blue for the better part of 3 months! Also, I'm pretty sure my horse Kelly broke my finger bone while I was loading him into a horse trailer and a car backfired and he shot backwards, the lead line smacking my hand into the rim of the trailer so hard that a month later at graduation I was worried how hard they'd shake it while handing me my diploma. (I did learn, however, NOT to tie a knot in the end of your leadrope by that experience!) I've had the skin zipped off by a lead line being jerked backwards through my hands from a mare named RazzleDazzle that wouldn't load in aptly named Indian Ridge as darkness was approaching (one section of my palm has a permanent scar where the little lines won't grow back, though you'd have to know where you were looking to see it...) 

I caught a firework cartridge in my eye (while on a covered porch, holding a camera, taking pictures through the viewfinder using the OTHER eye) and that incident happened not even 3 full months after whacking myself in the other eyeball with a fob on an elastic on my jacket (involving steroids for the inflammation, eye-dilating drops that made me resemble Marilyn Manson for about a month, having to make frequent early-morning visits to the eye doc and getting my eye stained with yellow dye, sleeping on an elevated set of pillows, and not getting to put my head lower than my heart for 6 FULL months due to risk of detaching my retina due to excessive intraocular pressure and danger of subsequently going blind). I've broken a toe by dropping a plate of delicious stir-fry (edge first) onto it while on the phone with my mother. I have sprained the base of my big toe repeatedly, jammed fingers, had my thumb kicked in a ferocious game of Gladiator and it wouldn't bend right for about a month.... and I gave myself rug burn catching one foot in the pantleg of the other (damnable wide-leg fashion anyway) and falling face-down into the carpet in the hallway, running full-tilt, chasing a boy.... of course. I have bashed my head into cabinets so frequently that I've become SUPER twitchy about having them open. I used the beanbag as a sled to slide down our couch, however having only a basic understanding of the concepts of inertia and momentum, propelled myself directly into the sharp edge of the entertainment center embedding the corner right into the hairline of my forehead. (the small indentation is still there if you run your fingers across it, but I would appreciate if you didn't.) I have regrettably been in two car wrecks, one major one from three(ish) years back that still affects me, (particularly impacting my balance - causing me to randomly go kittywompus  into a doorframe or other object). I end up experiencing totally random and ridiculous accidents so often it's becoming a source of bemusement to those around me.

Seriously. I'm so routinely clumsy that it's bordering on ridiculous. I fall UP the stairs. I roll my ankles so frequently that I've given up wearing Danskos because even the level difference between linoleum and low carpet can set off a good turnover. I am neurotic about closing cabinet doors. I've learned the hard way that if you have to brake hard, to engage your REAR brakes first before your front ones on your mountain bike. I concentrate while wearing high heels. Thankfully I actually WORK on training my body for balance, coordination and muscle control. Can you imagine how dangerous I might be if I DIDN'T actively train myself to improve through riding horses, practicing martial arts and hitting the gym? 

And in yet another Super-Klutz-Fairy-strikes-again moment, just this past weekend I managed to BREAK my toe... at a black belt test... as a spectator.... on the bench which I was spectating from. Totally serious. :\  I leapt up to run to hug my friend Kim, cracked my foot into the base of the heavy wooden bleachers and split my pinky toe away from the rest. Four days later it's still swollen, painful, I'm limping (though I TRY not to) and I can only get ONE pair of shoes on, and not comfortably. I've discovered Autumn in this farther southern climate is nice, but not quite nice enough for sandals, I'm afraid. MY POOR TOE! And just to be sure it hurt enough, yesterday I smacked it into the wheels on the base of my office chair. Just to be certain it was painful enough. (In my own defense, I was watching to be sure I didn't spill coffee onto my keyboard having used the very last of the creamer and overfilling it slightly! Waste not, want not has its consequences, apparently.)

So hobbling, toe throbbing (if you touch it I swear I will punch you in the face! DON'T EVEN LOOK AT IT!) I managed to wobble on into the gym tonight to swim some laps (since yoga, lunges, pushups, squats or any potential toe-bending exercise really being out of the question since getting merely up and down the stairs requires some careful footwork and maneuvering!) I got into my swimsuit to go shower and enter the pool. Well, don't ask me why tonight of all nights every young man in a 25 mile radius decided to soak in the hot tub, swim laps in the pool or needed to be in the steam room.... So with all the dignity one can muster, soaking wet from the shower, hair slicked back, no makeup on, in a swimsuit revealing every bit of oneself that is normally reserved for those nearest and dearest, I summoned my dignity and hobbled out to the pool's edge to carefully (VERY CAREFULLY!) climb down the ladder into the slightly chilly water. Thankfully, once in the water and swimming laps, the only sound I could hear was the lapping of the waves against the edge and the rhythm of my breathing. Until I had to get out again.

Painful memories of exactly WHY I chose to do the stationary bike and rowing machine instead of swimming in high school followed me like so many of those young men's eyes as me and my poor purple toe stumbled over into the hot tub. Thankfully, I had the excuse of the hot water causing the reddening in my cheeks covering up my embarrassment and me silently hoping the limping wasn't setting my fat a-jiggle. Thankfully no one disturbed me, and I could marinate myself in the bath of chlorine and jet-sprayed water until closing time, wrapped in my towel to the women's locker room, giving a faint nod to the scads of boys still perched on the edges of the hot tub as me, my dignity and one very inflamed pinky toe made our way out of the gym and into the temperate November evening.

If anyone else wants to borrow the Super Klutz Fairy, you can have her! I'm done now! Though if you find the Cleaning and Money Fairies, I'll happily keep them for a while!

-TTFN!
Sirens Echo 

Adventures in home waxing!

Today's episode brought to you by... Adventures in home waxing!

So I've read the horror stories of folks attempting waxing and having horrible experiences. I've watched 40 Year Old Virgin and saw Steve Carell and his bleeding patch of chest hair he had ripped out during actual live filming (no Hollywood SFX there!) I've heard my brother-in-law who personally told me that he experienced ONE strip of leg waxing and will never under any circumstances subject himself to it again.

Steve Carrel - yes that's actually blood.

But I've also been swayed by the experiences of my friends who LOVE waxing and have had such great experiences that they hardly even had to touch their razors for weeks on end, except to get the errant missed ones here and there. Plus, they assured me, the more you do it, the fewer and finer the hairs that return. It just gets BETTER AND BETTER! Finally, that allure of weeks of stubble-free smoothness and their glowing reviews lured me in, and I bought a package of home wax strips at WalMart. Seemed like such a deal - 20 strips for under $7 - how could I lose!!! I evaluated the options available, read the backs of the boxes thoroughly, and settled on a box tagged "For Normal Skin" (apparently my first mistake, as my sister-in-law informed me that Sensitive Skin ones would've been the better way to go.)

However, I have also heard the adages that "Beauty comes at a cost" and "Pain is Beauty." Hrm. Regardless of this conventional wisdom, in my desire for desperately sexy and unbelievably smooth legs and the promise of leaving my razor resting comfortably in its cradle in my shower, undisturbed for weeks on end, I decided today was the day. I hadn't shaved in days, and was feeling particularly brave. Or foolhardy. Perhaps both.

Coming out of a shower thinking that my hair follicles in my skin would be somehow loosened from the hot water and properly prepped for hair extraction, I carefully read and re-read the box to be certain I fully understood the instructions in their entirety. However, also following instruction, I was QUITE sure that the skin was dry, free of lotions or other wax-defying substances. And, to point, I DID follow the instructions and try it out on my leg first, being a waxing novice.  Steeling myself and in Bandaid-fashion, only Flash or Sonic could've moved faster as I ripped opposite the direction of growth. Not bad at all! I've had fabric strip Band-Aids that hurt worse than that!

I looked down at the green wax coating the strip, and squinted incredulously. Apparently I'm not Sasquatch-ey enough yet and the strip pulled possibly two, perhaps three tiny hairs from my calf (which, as mentioned, I've purposefully not shaved for several days now). But having the re-useable wax strip ready to go, (just fold over, re-warm by rubbing vigorously between hands and apply to a new section of skin) and no other options if it wasn't going to extract my obviously-too-short leg hair, I got adventurous and I moved a bit farther northwards to the only other area that had slightly longer hair.... pulled the skin taut, and......

OMG hairy flying buffalo nuggets mother of mercy holy hellfire jesusmaryandjoseph....... YYYYYEEEEEOOOOOWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!

Incredulously, I stared down at the strip that had possibly 12 little hairs stuck to it and my reddened, bleeding tender inner thigh/bikini line. You've got to be KIDDING me?!?! THAT much pain for so slight a reward?

Determined to not be defeated by a tiny strip of wax, I re-warmed it for another go, rubbing that strip vigorously and perhaps a touch violently between my hands for all I was worth, re-applied, smoothed down, braced and RRRRIIIIPP!!! Possibly 2 more hairs loosened themselves from their death grips and a few more speckled spots of blood from my tortured hair follicles came out on the wax strip. I gritted my teeth and told myself that I was a winner.... I would defy my reddened tender skin and try again.

RRRRRIIIIIIIPPPPPP! Holy mother of mercy give me strength. Again. One more hair let loose its grip, possibly... Perhaps not. By now my eyes were blurring. I applied it again, and again...... I think this wax strip is used up. I glared down at lobster-esque skin, bleeding little bits of self and globs of green wax stuck all over whatever (most all) the hairs that remained, obstinately defying my best efforts to extract them. The wax strip had defeated me. I folded the strip over, deposited in the trash and surveilled the damages. I unfolded the little wipes they include to remove the remaining wax, but how the HECK do you get the rest of the residue off anyway? Those little wipes they put in the box did NOT cut it. So now I'm bleeding AND sticky?! Not sure I'm won over in the slightest to this method of being sleek as a newborn. Approximately 27 hairs fewer and down only and ounce or two of blood lost, I swear.......

I gingerly dressed for Sunday dinner, praying that I would not attach myself via green wax to my underclothes (it's like having an entire extra wax strip using your own washable removal device) and trying to disguise the fact I was walking as carefully as a fawn over autumn leaves in mountain lion territory (which is to say, quite gingerly!)

My brain's trivia repository has retained knowledge somehow that the Mohican Indians had to earn their mohawks by enduring having their hairs plucked out of their head one by one. This was their test of masculinity and manhood, and a visible sign that their mohawks were earned by their toughness, endurance and ability to withstand the pain. I'm pretty sure that process ranks slightly below the self-inflicted torture I just endured. I think I'd RATHER pluck each individual bikini line hair with a pair of tweezers, suffering for hours than one quick rip that left me bleeding, wax-covered and still semi-hirsute.

But now what to do with the other 19 strips left in the box????

Post-script: Apparently in my pain-induced blurry vision, I failed to read the labeling on the wipes correctly. There are TWO distinct wipes in the box (a fact despite my repeated box reading that my brain failed to comprehend) ONE is for a skin-relaxing wipe, the OTHER for removing the wax. I have no idea the previous wipe's potencey for relaxing the skin as I applied it AFTER ripping myself bloody, but the latter which did, in fact, work, gets a shaky thumbs-up accompanied by a burning sensation to the much-abused and notably tender skin along my bikini line, but thankfully now wax-residue free.

Post-post-script: following removing the glommed-on wax (and thankfully not adhering myself to my undergarments), in addition to actually bleeding, I also appear to have broken capillaries under my skin... Yep. Seriously. Thinking I'm still going to be a razor girl. Sorry my love, I guess I'm just going to be the old-fashioned shaving kinda gal whereby getting goosebumps equals me turning into a baby porcupine. The alternative seems tougher than even this ninja can bear. :(

Thanks for the photo goes to smokinhotbooks.com

Veldorex - Part 2 Dragonlings

Veldorex walked among the nomadic shepherds on the Plains, dressed as a queen, and for her, coin was easy enough to come by. The sheep bells gently clanged as the animals bedded down for the night, calling to each other in bleating voices.  Veldorex grimaced. The bells upset her stomach. She had a pile that she spit out near the front of her cave. They were useful for warning of intruders however.  It was hard to tiptoe through a carpet of bells, unless you could fly.  Humans were easily fools.

"My greetings," she said, her voice smoky and dark as her gown. "I wonder if I might share your fire." The nomads eyed her narrowly. She knew what they wanted, and smiled easily. "For a price, of course," she continued, pulling royals out of her drawstring pouch. A woman reached forward and snatched them out of her hand. Veldorex smiled wanly. She would take it all back when they were dead, anyway, but it would get her what she wanted, for now. 

Their eyes glittered and they moved to clear a space for her to sit in their circle, one even offering a lambskin stool - quite an honor.  They were roasting a carcass on a spit. Lamb, she concluded, and chuckled, as if there were any doubt. The nomads eyed her warily, her laugh seemed somehow ominous to them, and intuitively they responded with that visceral tingle that warns one of danger.

Veldorex was not hungry, though the meat smelled enticing, roasted and not raw, as she was accustomed to in draconic form.  She surveyed the assembled nomads, dark and musty, smelling of the animals they lived and died by.  An old woman with a cragged face, the matriarch, indubitably, with a baby curled in each arm, their eyes bright and dark as the stones in the circlet on Veldorex's brow.

A woman with milk-heavy breasts, the mother of at least one of the babes, Veldorex concluded, crouched by the fire, the light flickering across her dusky skin, her shadow dancing out across the grass behind her.  One of the babies began to fuss and cry, and milk spotted the front of the woman's lambskin tunic. She stood wearily, and took the baby from the old woman, admonishing a boy of no more than five or six winters to tend the spit. A tall silent man sat quietly, unobtrusively staring at her. Veldorex realized that she looked strange to these people, elegant in her gown and glittering stones, and her teeth bared in the semblance of a smile. No competition with either of those two.

A pair of fat women muttering between themselves across the fire and chewing gristle did not concern her. Their enormous bellies were enough company. She wondered how they could even walk with their clan as they traveled, they scarcely even moved their many chins as they whispered. A bald man with white eyes sat near them, unblinking, not talking, only sniffing at the air like some old, blind cur.  Weakness was seldom tolerated in these people, so he must have been in a high position of social esteem prior to his decline. A clan-leader or medicine man, no doubt. The fat women were probably gifted to him, usually sisters. She frowned. Not what she was looking for.  A small girl sat beside him, braiding her jet black hair while watching the newcomer with the pale skin. It was this one that finally spoke. "Do you see the sun, lady?"

Velda, as she called herself in human form - for no one was to know a dragon's true name, permitted herself a true smile. "As infrequently as I can, dearling." That apparently satisfied the youngster and she turned her eyes back to her braiding. 

Where were all the men?

She grimaced and turned her eyes deeper into the shadows among the domed tents. Children scampered through them, playing some kind of game of chase, owls and mice, or some such variant. A woman sat sewing inside a tent, her shadow long against the curved wall, a child beside her whittling at a stick. A pair of lovers off beyond the furthest reaches of firelight tittered softly and made wet sounds as they kissed quietly. Only Velda's dragon senses alerted her to their presence - doubtless none of the humans knew they were even there.  Behind a scrubby bit of brush, a boy was watering the earth, the soft splash of his urine soaking into the dry ground.

Nothing. She directed her eyes and voice toward the matriarch and the mother, "Praytell, where are your menfolk?"  The little boy at the spit answered first, "Ol' Siga says there's a dragon about!" The mother, nursing a babe on her dark brown breast, cast him a ferocious look. "Is there?" Velda purred. The boy turned the spit faster, and kept his eyes on the flames. Tubers wrapped in leaves sat in the glowing embers and fat from the carcass sizzled in the fire.

The mother looked at Velda. "We expect them anytime," she said, an undercurrent of threat coloring her tone. Nomads held to their own, and did not care for outsiders, suspicious and wary.  Velda did not care for them either, but used them to fulfill her needs alone, knowing that the unsociable lot were unlikely to talk to strangers about a pale woman who walked into camp alone. Meat, men, occasionally news, otherwise she would not have suffered them to live in her territory. They were good at raising those tasty sheep, she had to admit. 

"A dragon, you say, how terribly exciting. What color dragon?" Velda's voice was smooth as poison.

The boy bit his lip and kept his eyes on his task. The girl with braids replied instead, "Siga says it must be be a black 'cause we never saw it. Siga said it took twelve sheep! I can count to twelve! Wanna hear?" She jutted out her chest proudly. Velda shook her head and eyed the mother, who pulled the sated babe off her breast and handed it back to the old woman. Her nipple on her bare breast was wet and dark as she pulled her lambskin wrap up over it.

"How do you know it was a dragon and not some wolf or lion?" Velda asked. The little girl scrunched her face and looked at Velda as though she had asked the silliest question the girl had ever heard. Because the sheep would be scared at the smell of first blooding and go to running, their bells would be clanging, and we would hear them! Even if a wolf kills one, there's always something left, even if just bones and bells, but a dragon, no, they just get so scared they don't run, just frozen, and Ai!" The little girl yelped and smacked her hands together. The two fat old women jumped and muttered, shaking their heads and chins disapprovingly. "The whole sheep is gone, no blood, no bones, no bells, just - gone!"

Velda thought, "Oh, not all gone. I've got bells, littling, I have bells aplenty."

Novel snippet - Ashfall

Ash tripped over himself in his haste, spilling onto his hands and knees, embedding gravel in his palms. "Blood of the Old Lords!" he cursed, leapt up, and continued pounding his way amongst the tents to Selendria's.  She had not requested an ornate silken tent, bright of color and hung with long banners to flicker in the wind, but the same drab canvas that every other soldier had. Ash admired that. She remained the same that she had been at Thebane Sanctuary Prime, though more troubled now.  She had to be distinguishable to messengers, however, so the only concession to ornament she allowed was a bright blue je'ton embroidered over her tent door.  It was toward that weapon of thread that Ash now ran.  "Selendria! It's Ash! Come out!" he shouted as he ran, voice cracking. There was no movement as he neared, and he dashed inside. Empty. He spun on his heel, pushing back out the canvas door. Where was she? The Council!  He darted away, wary of the treacherous tentlines, ignoring the pain in his ragged palms. 

*  *  *

Bromgar leaned forward intently, gesticulating with his leg of roast fowl that dripped grease and gravy down his fingers.  The warriors from the Narrows of Hevon were skilled hunters and brought in game for the soldiers that had no time or strength to hunt.  Bromgar's voice boomed out. "Now is the time to strike! They avoid the light, we know, though for what reason is still uncertain. Selendria keeps them off with her sphere of light and they never attack those carrying torches. Only thing that kept her father alive when they attacked him!"

"Yes," Selendria interjected, "kept him alive then, though he's dying now, regardless. Like the other sick we tend, like Zebulon Poi, your own friend, Bromgar."

Bromgar nodded to her and continued, "All the more reason! The only advantage we hope to claim is to attack while they are holed up like rabbits in their burrows! Waiting avails us nothing! We invite them to attack if we never press the offensive!" He slammed his fist onto his thigh, splattering gravy droplets over his trousers.

Another voice argued "What if they gather their strength while beneath ground? We may have no chance to defeat them if they are thus fortified. Action without knowledge is folly!" The heavy-jowled man shook a fist in the air. A mystic from some Thebane Sanctuary by the look of his robes.

"We should build fires on their burrows, set the whole lot aflame and cook 'em!" another voice urged.

"Aye, an' where are ye to get enough wood ta burn 'em on the Plains? We're already down to burnin' empty barrels and dung!"

"And who's to say they can't burrow their way clear - are we to set the Plains themselves aflame?"

"Yes, if needs be!"

"By the gods, no!"

"Gentlemen!" Selendria's voice cut through. "We gain nothing by fruitlessly contesting what is already trodden ground. Now shall we..."

Ash burst through the flaps and breathlessly skidded to a stop inside the tent, "Forgive the interruption," he panted, "but your mother...foster mother sent me. It's about... the dragon."  The heavy-jowled Mystic leapt to his feet, the voices of her council sparked to life like fire in prairie grass.

"QUIET!" belted Bromgar, "Let the boy speak!"

Ash felt everyone's eyes on him, and he scuffed his boot as he continued.  "It's likely the same dragon as was on the battlefield the night Treyvan was killed...uh...lost."

Selendria's eyes narrowed. She had been increasingly short on patience since Treyvan's disappearance. She would not allow anyone to speak of him as though dead. Anger flared in her.

"Have you gone mad? What infernal dragon? I never saw any dragons. My foster mother must be deluded with grief over her husband to concoct such nonsense. Daemon are one thing, dragons entirely another!"

Ash had never seen her angry, and his eyes were large as he  struggled to find his voice in the sudden silence that surrounded them.

"Begging pardon, but I saw the dragon too! Or I'm a swordswallower!"

Selendria looked at him, and he swallowed hard, as if to prove it. She threw up her hands in exasperation, pulling her cloak off the rock she had been seated on.

"Bromgar!" she wheeled on him. "Have you seen any dragons?"

Bromgar nonchalantly stuffed his mouth full of roast fowl, licking the juice off his fingers. He squinted into the sky.  "Never this far south...."

A derisive laugh was quickly stifled as the man realized that Bromgar the Northerner was not joking.

The Northerners had elaborately decorated houses with the faces of the beasts of legends carved and painted upon them.  Fearsome snarling dragons, the heads of the great basilisks who would turn one who gazed upon them to stone, the many faces of the undersea Watcher, for whom Watcher's Reach had been named, and other frightening creatures out of the old tales stood sentry around their homes.  They were to frighten away the monsters who would threaten their villages as legend told that evil could not bear its own reflection.

Bromgar was the soul of seriousness. "It's either on the hunt or looking to mate - no dens out this far for it to hole up in. Mountain dwellers, dragons are, or cliffs for the seadragons. Ain't no Plains dragons - no place to hoard their treasure." He tossed his leg bone into the dung fire, the fire hissing and sizzling the fat off the bone. Bromgar looked up at her.

For a moment, she held his gaze, looking at back at him, and her voice had lost its anger when she spoke, never breaking the gaze with Bromgar's eyes. "Ash, take me to Teriah."

*  *  *

The maze of tents, set up haphazardly and as quickly as possible once daybreak lightened the horizon, had no discernible order.  Selendria had become lost in their daily shifting and changing as they tore down camp, marched, fought, set up, ate, slept... The entire routine had become as blurred as her own chaos of thought of late. She had not slept well, even before Treyvan's...disappearance, though it was worse now.

She could not rest in the daylight, try though she might and as tired as she was.  The mulled wine, warm milk, counting backward from a thousands thousand, none had brought relief.  And when she had finally slept, carried off despite the protest of her mind by the total exhaustion of her body, then she had dreamed of darkness, of terror, of gleaming teeth and red eyes.  Her dream before the Council had convened this day had been the worst of them yet...

She had dreamed she walked in snowy woods with thin trees huddled together, tall grey fingers reaching impossibly high into the clouded sky. She was alone, and cold, and walked endlessly through woods that would not end.  She heard the screaming, ran to the sound, though it echoed all around her and she could not find the way.  She ran and ran and came into a clearing and saw them, their black bodies huddled over him, their maws bright with his blood. The daemon turned to her, hissing, and she thought him dead. His lower half was gone, his entrails spilling onto the snow, the white of his ribs against the cavernous redness inside. Surely dead, she had thought, until he opened his lips and his eyes, staring through her, glazed, unfocused, and whispered "Help me..."

Selendria had awoken in a sweat, the canvas sweltering and stuffy. She shuddered off the horror of her dream.  At least having his body would bring comfort, to know that he was truly dead.

Lost in thoughts dark and gruesome, Ash led her easily through the canvas labyrinth until she reached her foster mother's tent. "Mother!" she called, and Teriah emerged to enfold Selendria in the warmth of her fur-trimmed robe's embrace.

Getting BRAVE!

So the folks write up movie reviews for this little monthly newsletter that a friend puts together.

*SPOILER!* Have you seen BRAVE yet? If not - I'm giving hints away herein!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, with that said, and if you don't mind spoilers, here's my take. I typically avoid getting confrontational, but this one really blew my top off. They wrote in their review:
"Brave- Good movie. Interesting moral to the story. Very female dominated movie. The men were just background fluff"


I STRONGLY disagree. There were folks who liked the movie who happened to be males also. I don't think the men were "background fluff" at all - sure, they were caricatures of some of the squabbling, fighting, brawling, charging-in, egotist sides of SOME men, but just as pointedly highlighted were the FEMALE characteristics placing narrow-minded values solely on cultivating domesticity, keeping the home, developing diplomacy, and so forth. So if ONE gender is going to be viewed as "fluff" I equally counter that the mother in the film iconically and rigidly represents a 1950's housewife focus on appearance first and foremost (being the most superficial of characteristics), and being so overly attached to the stigma of "being a lady" that even while transformed she is utterly TRAUMATIZED by the simplest of social gaffes! How transparent is that layering of a role that WHO YOU ARE is WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE!? Not your skills, your intelligence, your independence and free-thinking, but in the all-encompassing demands to conform to the ideals of what "being a lady" entails is entirely what defines you and gives you your self-worth? This queen holding herself to a higher social standard while in a beastly form makes for quite humorous situations, though the loss of that sense of propriety is portrayed as the mother is "degrading" in a sense (not that I believe necessarily in human superiority over animals, that isn't my point!) as she is truly becoming feral, animalistic, and losing touch with that which makes us "human." So if there were a moral to be found in the movie (besides the obvious - witches never play fair and there's ALWAYS a catch...) is that the overriding LOVE of family and finding the sense of self is TRULY what makes us human and sets us apart from the bears and the beasts. Regardless of gender stigmas.

And overall - IT'S A MOVIE! How many YEARS of helpless-female victimized women have been portrayed needing to be rescued because they're suddenly and utterly helpless from breaking a nail!?!??!? It's ridiculous the way that women have been INFANTILIZED by Hollywood to the point of being simpering eye candy, depleted of a backbone entirely! If you ask me, which you didn't, but you're getting my rather heated opinion anyway because... well, I'm writing it down and I guess you could skip over this paragraph if you're desperately offended by it.......... THE POINT is that it is a movie about a young girl trying to find her place in the world, coming into her individual identity, discovering the importance of her family, the meaning of love, and being accepted for herself entirely - ARROW-SHOOTING, HORSE GALLOPING, REFUSING TO BE TIED DOWN self! And the mother's recognition of that independence of spirit (though admittedly fierce and often defiantly misplaced!) in her daughter and accepting her decisions as her own to make rather than be dictated.

To me, the men were portrayed as funny, brave, stalwart in defending their honor, their families, their clans, and their love. They were portrayed as a bit unruly, yes, but HELLO!?!?!? Has anyone OPENED a book on human culture and the woes of "civilization"? (quotes deliberate!) Human history is littered with the remains of tribal, clan and territory disputes - we are STILL engaged in the business of ever-more-technologically killing each other off on a global scale! Just as stereotypically portrayed would be the buxom serving woman whose main job is to carry tarts, scold the unruly triplet brothers and scream... seriously -that's her entire purpose in the movie! Particularly lots of screaming. Just because a female lead is shown in this movie doesn't mitigate or in any way diminish the importance of men, and it's this same kind of gender finger-pointing that got us all into this whole mess in the first place of "gender roles and duties!"

This was the entire plight of my childhood - some folks wanted me to be a lady in lace and china tea cups and pink EVERYTHING and I just want to be ME!!!!!! Tomboy, horse-riding, playing-in-the-dirt, falling off my bike, playing in the doghouse with the puppies ME!!!!!!!!!! (Thank goodness my dad let me help in the garden and split wood for kindling and hand him wrenches while he worked on cars and never treated me differently!) And now, I feel like I can do a pretty good job of balancing the tomboy with the lady, but despite wearing heels, I still have a BRAIN in my skull and the ability think for myself!

So to me, given that I rarely if ever pay to see a movie in the theater TWICE... my rating is that it was an excellent movie, I loved a strong female lead (yes, G.I. Jane-style!) and this particularly story hits super close to home! To trivialize the role that men play in the movie is just the kind of strange role issue that I see in comments made to me like "You're married, but you're traveling ALONE?!" And "You're driving ALL THAT WAY, and by YOURSELF?!" Holy heck! I am not incapable of getting onto an airplane operating a gas pump just because I have a pair of boobs!

I loathe the "helpless female" act. I concede that there are many things that I am not proficient at doing. I'm ridiculously, incomprehensibly and entirely terrified to change a tire, fearing the vehicle will fall off the jack and squish me like a bug. I am leery of jumper cables after Dad made them spark and I was certain he'd electrocute me on the spot. I'm basically mechanically inept. I have zero knowledge, interest in, or even awareness of professional sports save martial arts or equestrian events. But I am witty, clever, creative, domestically disinclined, a culinary incompetent, and a moderately good archer. I do love my horses and flowers from my husband, but I also love digging in the dirt, being sweaty from a great workout and playing video games. And I can pull off an updo, mascara and heels as well. This doesn't make me less capable or confident, or less of a woman. Even if I do call AAA to change my tire.

 Anyway, thought I'd let off a little steam...thanks for reading!

Yoga - it's habit forming!

After finishing my 21-day Yoga Challenge, and writing about wanting it to be habit-forming.... a funny thing happened.... I actually WANTED my body to get that lovely stretching, peaceful and relaxed feeling. After a great workout, I have this sensation when returning to back to a sitting pose of feeling overall lightness, of the tension draining out from my forehead all the way down. Of a sense of being so relaxed and bouyant that it almost feels my arms will float right off my knees. I think I'm sort of addicted to that feeling!

Granted, there are far worse things to be addicted to. Currently some of my other favorite addictions include cups of steaming hot chocolate (with mini-marshmallows, OF COURSE) after coming home with chilled fingers from the barn, smelling of horses, hay and leather. I'm also deliciously hooked on raw almonds. I read that they're even better for you soaked (more easily digested by your system, I think it said) but I love that crunch as you bite them, and I'm also particularly partial to Junior Mints. I can resist other things that beckon my sweet tooth, but those are my Achilles Heel....

So being addicted to yoga (coffee is not an addiction, it is NECESSARY for continued function!) is fairly harmless, all things considered, and certainly better for my body than those decadently smooth yet sensuous chocolate minty discs of greatness in that little cardboard box........

Anyway, back to the topic (not chocolate and mint together!) at hand, yoga just DOES something for me in a way that none of my other activities do. Not running! Of course I love crossing the finish line - okay, no... wait.  I love about 10 minutes AFTER crossing the finish line when my heart stops operating at hummingbird rates, my face begins to resemble a face and not a Russian beet imminently destined for borscht, and my breathing actually enables me to talk again, instead of half gasp and mostly gesture at the lovely people who always seem to want to talk to me right afterwards, like directing me out of the path of other runners finishing, telling me not to puke in the grass (I haven't yet!) or other mundane things like returning my chip timer or turning in my race tags. LOL!!!!No, no runner's high for me, though I do get the "OMG I survived that race" post-run high... that typically lasts until I check race results online..........

Not in martial arts - sure you have the I-did-such-a-great-workout-I'm-too-sore-to-even-lift-my-bag-so-I'll-just-drag-it-out-of-the-gym days where you're sure your limbs may literally disconnect themselves from the rest of you in protest for inhumane treatment and unfavorable working conditions which you have repeatedly subjected them to, and yet you still seem to be grinning from ear-to-ear and proudly displaying your bruises (we dubbed them "kickies") to anyone and everyone who will look at them. Sure I get a high out of kicking well, winning a trophy, taking home the gold medal or finally getting that tricky board break (well, in the days when I COULD break), but it's still not the same as yoga. Those unassisted pullups at the gym had me soaring, but it's STILL not the same...

Even as wonderful and exuberant as I feel after an AWESOME ride with my horses, sailing over jumps, getting that tricky dressage maneuver, or having that "ah ha!" moment while training a young horse (or even re-training an older one!) still don't leave me with *quite* the same feeling as that final resting pose in Savasana - somehow differing from just lying down - which while comfortable, can't do the same thing as rewarding my body for the work I've done in my practice with those few moments of rest at the end, letting my body absorb the hard work and truly come to stillness.

I saw this awesome shirt that says "I'm only in it for Savasana." with a stick figure reclined on a yoga mat, and at the time I chuckled, but I realized how absolutely true it is for me. Those last final moments of tension just slip-sliding away - tension I didn't even know I had, stress that was bunched around my eyes, straining across my forehead, clenching itself into my jaw, squeezing up the corners of my eyes, or embedding itself in the base of my tongue and throat - all just ease and release, and I become a centered, quiet (for me....) and effervescent individual, relaxed but yet also invigorated and ready for whatever life has in store for me next. For those few moments no grocery lists, overdue bills, horse hooves needing a farrier appointment, computer program glitches, bank balances, car mystery "clinks & clunks" or other outside-world invasions are allowed to permit that little bubble of peace right over the top of me on my sticky mat.

And there's no cheating. You can't hurry up and just lie down on your mat and get the same effect - you have to actually put the work in first to earn that sweet sweet reward afterwards. Sure, you may catch 40 winks, but that scalp-tingling, shoulder-floating, super stretchy well-circulated feeling doesn't come to me without the rhythmic breathing, flowing through poses, activating my body and disconnecting my brain (temporarily!)

So tonight, finding myself drawn once again to the purple sticky mat purposefully left out in my way so that it is there, drawing me with its promise of feeling infinitely better, it calls me away.

Delightfully so! This is one addiction I shall indulge as much as possible!
Namaste!

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 21 - Final Thoughts

I reached my goal. I completed 21 says of the Yoga Challenge (with a few hiccups in the way, but completed nonetheless) I finished 21 workouts, meditations, breathing exercises , Blissology commitment of performing random kindnesses, a couple self-revelations, exercise from cardio to restorative yoga, and I am left reflecting on what has changed in 21 days. No, I  haven't miraculously recovered from my lingering injuries from the car accident, I haven't suddenly been able to do a challenging pose that has eluded me until now, and no cosmic physical breakthroughs have been bestowed on me.

There were nights I would've rather curled up and read my book, watched an episode of a tv show or just gone straight to bed, but I did my yoga anyway. I missed a few days being too sick to do yoga, though I made them up again. I was sore from TKD, the gym, or running a race, and did yoga anyway, I was tired from working super long hours, but did yoga anyway, and here I am, finished and reflective on my experience this go-round with the 21-Day Yoga Challenge. So what did I gain from dedicating the greater part of a month to time spend 20 to 55 minutes a night on my sticky mat? A sense of clarity, a devoted time of self care, perhaps a smidgen more flexibility and strength. Found some insights into my personality, admired my personal dedication to perform my practice daily and write about my experiences, and hopefully, am forming a habit of doing something so deeply desired by my body, mind and soul that only I can force myself to do and never find the time spent in my practice "lost" but instead "gained".

Namaste!

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 20 - REALLY Random Acts of Kindness

I am sure that each of us has heard of, or seen "Commit random acts of kindness" bumper stickers. The idea of paying it forward, or committing one's self to a generous act of the spirit for another. Today I did mine, though sadly, it seems my gesture, though well-intentioned, was slightly misguided. And I failed my test to be generous of spirit and accept graciously, instead allowing myself to get my feelings hurt. So time to take a breath and re-evaluate my reason for committing kindnesses. But first, a carefully planned segue.

My mom is awesome. She sends me "Mom Mailers" full of awesome goodies like fruit leather, raw almonds, my absolute FAVORITE Kona coffee (I have no idea her connections where she finds it.... she must have ties to someone actually living in Hawaii growing actual coffee trees as her supplier. I positively cannot find it anywhere!) She includes packs of gum knowing I'm addicted to chewing it as a stress reliever, pops in all-natural fruit snacks, my favorite granola bars, articles that she found interesting or that she thought I may like, books for me to read and so on. She also sent me a poem, attributed to Mother Teresa.

The version found written on the wall in Mother Teresa's home for children in Calcutta:

            People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.  Forgive them anyway.

            If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway.

            If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.   Succeed anyway.

            If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.  Be honest and sincere anyway.

            What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.  Create anyway.

            If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.  Be happy anyway.

            The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway.

         Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.  Give your best anyway.

         In the final analysis, it is between you and God.  It was never between you and them anyway.

-this version is credited to Mother Teresa

This was my reminder today. Just because what I did wasn't appreciated in the way that I had hoped doesn't negate the spirit of the act. If I had set out to do something in kindness expecting a pat on the back, it wouldn't have been particularly selfless. But it did open my eyes once again to what inside ME needs mending - my sometimes too-thin skin and quick defensiveness - always leery of being attacked. 

And how do all these combine into my yoga practice for tonight? Well, as previously mentioned in another blog post, part of my yoga this go-around is also fulfilling "Bliss Commitments". The first week was to write an actual letter or card to someone you care about. Of course, being me, I had whole messes of people that needed a card from me, and I went through an entire pack of them writing to the people who immediately jumped out to my mind. This second week was do commit a random act of kindness. So I have made myself helpful the last week trying to do a little extra above and beyond at every opportunity. Like taking the time to scour out the sink after doing dishes, and sweeping out the carport, and pulling the rotting tomato plants out of the garden so that next spring the ground will be ready for a little mulch and read to go again without the mess, I have a visit to Grama B. planned, and sent text messages or left voicemails for those friends in need of some emotional bolstering. I fed the neighbor horses the vegetables on the tray that got frozen and were going to be thrown out, and cleaned the leaves from their water trough. I took a moment to truly thank people that were helping, and I gave out some extra hugs this week. I spent extra time petting the dog and making a point to throw her bear for her, and called my Mom to see how she is doing. I rescued a plant that was going to be thrown out, even bringing it into my shower for that extra-special misting on the periphery that they seem to love. I did an anonymous good deed at the horse barn where I board, and wrote an extra long letter to mail out.  I complimented a total stranger (a genuine compliment), and held the door for folks passing through. Yes, most of these are common courtesies and part of my routine friendships and relationships with others, but this week I tried to focus on them even more and make them even more the central part of my random kindnesses and more of my routine.

And WHAT was tonight's yoga practice? Lower Body yoga. Some really interesting variations of leg work in a deep lunge raising and lowering the back knee while keeping the upper body vertical, some Goddess pose squats, and holding Warrior 1 and 2, planks with leg raises and lots of Chair Pose.At first I wasn't even going to do my practice tonight. Sleep-deprived, feeling a bit rumbly in my tumbly and then realized this is exactly the kind of think that keeps interfering with my practice. And 25 minutes? Yes... I have 25 minutes. So I took an antacid, lit my favorite candle, fed the fishies and did my yoga. Even worked up a little sweat (particularly as I did it after my 130 squats - working my way up to the 500 my husband wants me to try doing... I love that he always believes in me!)

One more day in my 21 Day Yoga Challenge, and hopefully working my way back into a habit of regular yoga practice. So good for me, just getting onto the mat is the first step.

Namaste & be KIND! :) Remember Mother Teresa:
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.  Be kind anyway. 
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.  Do good anyway.

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 19 - Stress Relief Yoga

Stress relief.... who couldn't use a bit more of that? Gosh, only the most serene monks in distant, austere and remarkably remote monasteries so far removed from the hubbub could possibly remain unaffected in the midst of election fussing, pre-holiday madness, as well as the adaptation to daylight savings time that have all clobbered us within a few weeks. (I hereby once again propose my theory that we permanently shift the clock a half hour and leave it alone! An hour makes too dramatic an impact, but a half hour is manageable... and thereby able to be permanent! But that's an issue for another blog post. As often said, the Native man said a white man is the only one who would cut off the bottom of a blanket, sew it to the top and somehow think it longer.)

My goodness me, a hefty dose of stress relief is just what the chiropractor ordered! As I settled to my mat for a slower-paced, more relaxed and meditative practice, I found myself realizing how far my yoga has evolved. Where once the floor seemed so far from my hands, in many poses they reach the floor. There are poses that I had believed entirely out of my reach that over these years of practicing have slowly come to me. And there are poses with which I am still finding my way. Mostly on my backbends and hip openers. Particularly when I run or ride, my hip flexors resist that expansion and open-ness. So poses like Cow Face Pose are a mental battle to sit through the pose, bordering on strained, to allow the discomfort to slide away as my hips relax and open.

And, being somewhat knowledgeable through my years of doing yoga, I often happily discover new yoga poses, as I did tonight in Rabbit Pose, a stretch for the tight upper back and neck. With a neck injury such as mine, I was very careful to listen to the limits of my body to gently open, but not overwhelm or damage my neck in this pose. I was rather startled to discover the sharp pull of the upper back and lower neck here - obviously an area which does not get much mobility or attention. Finally, having worked some of the kinks out of my shoulders, neck, upper and lower back, and through hamstrings and centered with slow deep breathing, the reward of Savasana with a lighter heart and mind, and more relaxed body to carry me to my own peace and serenity.

Sweet dreams!

Want info on Gomukasana or Cow Face Pose?
http://www.yogajournal.com/poses/689

Wondering, like me, just how to do Rabbit Pose correctly?
http://www.ehow.com/how_4516577_do-rabbit-pose-yoga.html

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 18 - Fire in the Belly

I have a strong love/hate relationship with corework. Often my female friends will remark on some guy's arms, (easily noted, even in t-shirts, remarkably accessible for a casual feel, visible even wearing *most* clothing) but in another confession, killer abs do it for me every time. Maybe my slight fetish is from understanding the amount of WORK that goes into developing that kind of muscle development and core strength. Perhaps it's my personal obsession with keeping a trim waist, or maybe it is simply just a hot button for me. Whatever the reason, tight, toned tummies turn me on. (Yes, alliteration intentional.)

So in my personal pursuit of perfection and preventing a pooch (ok, I'll stop...) I have found a couple of exercises that kick my butt! First, I started, but did not complete, Jillian Michaels Six Week Six Pack. Not because I wimped out (though it is killer hard!) but because all the planks and shoulder weight bearing exercises were so hard on my shoulder that I was awake at night with the pain. No pain, no gain was a workout mantra I've heard before, but not to the extent of sacrificing function. So my dreams of washboards have remained dreams. Until these workouts!

Yes, some planks and side planks were involved, but there were plenty of other variations that didn't involve weight-bearing on my shoulder and definitely got the old insides burning!

The core isn't relegating merely to those deep-cut lower abdominal  "V" muscles that make even grown women drool like overzealous St. Bernard puppies at feeding time, but also involve the legs, the low back, and all the structurally-supportive muscles used for posture, balance and movement.

With that in mind, many balancing postures, leg lifts and full-body motion exercises will aid core strengthening. Rather than simply pounding out crunches ad nauseum (literally!) there are an enormous range of movements capable of engaging the abdomen, obliques, low back and more. Bridge Pose, Bow Pose, Low Plank or Chaturanga, side planks, and cross arm-to-leg reclining twists will heat up that core.

And, for inspiration, you can always chant my personal motivational mantra: "Bikini, bikini, bikini!"

With laughter in my heart and fire in my belly,
Namaste!

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 17 - Cheerful Cardio

After taking a long winter's nap (all day!) after the excitement of the past weekend, I find myself on Sunday night facing a good, invigorating 30 minute cardio yoga workout.

Most of the routines were similar to what I've done before, moving faster through Sun Salutations with Warrior 1 and Chair Pose added in.... but one particular pose that I liked (and found incredibly challenging!) being a modified side angle pose where the torso is on the line of the back leg, but instead of having arms with lower arm bend and elbow resting on knee or fingers on the floor, instead rotating both arms into a vertical line and using core and legs to maintain the position. That was a really good one and my temptation to either drop that hand to the floor or brace against the bent leg was intense!

Add in some long-held chair pose with twists to either side and of course the held low Chaturanga pose which is becoming my "frenemy"...  I was actually sweating a bit and breathing heavier than I expected for such a short (relatively speaking) workout. Though I was surprised how quickly we arrived at Relaxation Pose, easing the tension in my forehead that I swear has encamped itself there semi-permanently.

Despite the physicality of the practice, my mental challenge was even more intense. Controlling my my mind tonight was like corralling cats. Flitting over my obligations and responsibilities, berating myself for not doing enough, for my sore hip flexors, for not being able to get my forehead to my knee in forward bends, being unforgiving of  my tightness in my hamstrings and those reminder twinges in my low back that tell me I'm pushing too hard...... and so another opportunity to release the expectations and work with what my body presented to me as today's challenges.

Thankfully by the end in total relaxation, pulling out my hair tie and just easing myself into the floor, adjusting my back so my shoulder blades lay flat and my legs sunk into the floor, the tension of my face slid away and by the time I re-engaged and came back to seated position, my head felt lighter, like a helium balloon gently floating up and away from my shoulders, and my shoulders relaxed and slipping farther from my ears. It continues to amaze me, even after the better part of a decade doing my yoga practice, that amazing change that can come over me. How much habitual and chronic tension I hold in my face, my shoulders, my hips.... and that release feeling so much greater and more invigorating!

Feel alive!

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 16 - Lift Me Up!

Another great upper body workout for yoga! It's astonishing how just subtly altering an exercise can change its outcome so drastically. Tonight's practice involved some pushup drills with hands wider than yoga mat width. Dropping down and pressing back up while keeping my core tight and lower back lifted was quite challenging enough in such a wide reach, but when we turned fingertips inwards to engage the triceps, I concede that I had to drop a knee to the mat and rest after several reps. Meanwhile, the lovely slender Asian lady demonstrating continued to pump out the "Tricep Terminator" pushups while I severely checked my competitive streak.

Yoga is non-competitive.
There are no awards for best Warrior 2 Pose, nor do they award medals for longest held low plank (Chaturanga pose). There are no recognitions for your yoga pants wherein you earn a new color of pants for poses learned (I tend to avoid the use of %the word "mastered" as when have we TRULY mastered anything in our lives? Isn't there always room for improvement?) They do not hand out trophies for cutest yoga outfit either, gym bunnies ... :P

Mindful of misguided inclination to overface my body in the desire to keep up with a video yogi who wasn't in the slightest aware of my presence, I pushed back up for a handful more triceps then gratefully moved on to a vinyasa sequence.

By the end, my body was tired, but grateful. So what if my hands may have trembled a wee bit while brushing my teeth? I am stronger, and maybe next time I won't have to take a breather!

Namaste!

Inspiration from Yoga - Day 15 - Ujjayi Breathing Exercises

Happy Halloween!

A nice reprieve from a traditional workout, tonight's practice was all about the flow and control of breath.

(Part of me wanted to do another workout just to get my body moving, but after doing 120 deep squats per my husband's new regimen I'm undertaking, plus walking up and down the hills accompanying my friends' kids going Trick-or-Treating tonight, I kinda got a good workout anyway.)My hip flexors are FINALLY believing that there is such a thing as relaxation, though in simple cross-legged pose my knees are much more like butterfly wings partially lifted skyward than resting on the earth. But all in good time.

Tonight was the Ujjayi ("victorious") breathing practice - long smooth inhalations and exhalations in a smooth and continuous rhythm. First practicing by inhaling through the nose and exhaling through the mouth with an audible release of breath, though not forced. The slight pause before inhaling, the slight pause of holding the full lungs with the entire abdomen expanded with breath. The moving to inhales and exhales through the nose only, and following this rhythm for a cleansing and also relaxing practice.

The only distraction was the slight wheezy noise I have from being a bit congested from the cold and being outside tonight. But I did feel refreshed and relaxed, ready to crawl between the sheets!

Breathe deeply! Be at ease!

For more info on Ujjayi Breathing, please check out:
http://www.yogajournal.com/practice/768