The hokey-pokey and group hugs

So I did practice and it wasn't SO bad. In fact, it went pretty well, all things considered.

My job during practice is to back off from any pain sensation in my shoulder. A couple weeks ago, this meant that I could barely transition between postures, I couldn't push into Urdhva Dhanurasana and Sirsasana was a touch-and-go affair.

This week, I'm able to do a complete vinyasa between postures - just without jumps. I step forward, I step back. It's like the 'hokey pokey' except I never turn myself around and that's not 'what it's all about'...but I digress.

Where was I? Oh yeah, Chaturanga. I can do that and I can do upward dog and downward dog. I can lift out of Bhujapidasana into Bakasana, but I lower down and step back to Chaturanga. I added lotus jumpbacks back in because they don't trigger any pain at all - and they're fun!

These are the nitty gritty details of my practice, the stuff that I would never normally discuss on my blog. Except...right now, they're HUGE. I don't even think about standing up from Urdhva Dhanurasana anymore. I'd be pretty thrilled if I could walk my hands into a deeper backbend. Or do a deep, satisfying Purvottanasana without pain. Or enjoy Prasarita Padottanasana C again.

The terrain has shifted and I'm shifting with it. It's 'Granny Yoga' at its finest!

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Since I can't obsess about standing up from backbends anymore, I'm trying to develop New Interests. My friend Evelyn is a trailblazer in this regard. Sidelined by a similar shoulder injury, she's immersed herself in dodgy cable television: Sasquatch sightings and UFOs. Plus, she's become a Cesar Millan groupie and taken up dog-walking.

Princess Fur's ears perked as I typed that last sentence.

I've been looking for a good hobby. Last weekend, I was checking out a friend's bookshelf and my eyes landed on the Complete Little House on the Prairie Seasons 1-8. The DVDs are encased in a box that resembles...wait for it!...a covered wagon.

I grew up with that show! Too good to be true! She was, understandably, hesitant to part with any portion of this bounty, but we negotiated and I walked out of there with the first four seasons.

I've been hunkered down on the futon ever since, watching a buck-toothed Laura Ingalls (Melissa Gilbert) utter syrupy lines like Home is the nicest word there is!

*blissful cringe*

Last night, I watched the episode where Laura (and Jack, the family dog) is bitten by her pet raccoon and Dr. Baker warns that Laura (and Jack! *sob*) may have been exposed to rabies.

The family fearfully waits for the rabies incubation period to pass. They huddle tearfully around Laura, but my sympathies are out in the barn with Jack, the dog, who is tied up, alone. Poor Jack! He doesn't understand why nobody loves him anymore. He whines inconsolably. Then he starts barking wildly.

When Pa walks out to the barn with a loaded rifle, I'm in torment. I can clearly remember sobbing my heart out when I first viewed this episode at age four. Even at that age, I liked dogs better than people.

I won't spoil the story for you, though I'll bet you can guess how it ends. *grouphug*

In an era of reality TV, it astounds me that anything so syrupy and heartfelt could have *ever* graced the airwaves of network televion. These days, 'Little House' would be too cheesy and innocent for normal kids to watch. They'd make fun of it then quickly turn the channel to a Lady Gaga video or a daytime talkshow featuring mothers who get sex-change operations then date their daughter's secretly gay boyfriends.

Which, of course, means I'm throughly enjoying my foray into 70s TV Nostalgia Land. Yay, the good old days! When the good guys were really good (burly Mr. Edwards, swinging down a dirt path singing 'Old Man Tucker' and kicking up his heels) and the bad guys were REALLY bad (Nellie Oslen, scowling under her blonde ringlets, bragging about the 'store-bought rug' in her family's house. And don't get me started on her *mother*!). The lines were so clearly drawn.

Evelyn is starting to believe in Big Foot. Me? I'm starting to believe that an entire town would show up to help Mr. Ingalls stack sacks of grain so he won't lose his team of oxen to an unscrupulous Irishman. Or that a schoolhouse full of children will cooperatively pretend to learn the alphabet in order to teach a teenage boy how to read the word 'boat'. When he later reads an essay of appreciation to the teacher, the children applaud in a standing ovation.

Awwww! Group hug!


That's me, 6 years old, in my 'prairie dress'.

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