Relaunching this blog is a resolution of sorts. I'm planning to write a little bit every day. When I told my friend Cabbage about this resolve of mine, she asked me what I planned to write about. To be honest, I'm not really sure.
Here's the thing, I'm not very keen to write long and detailed practice reports anymore. I'm kind of over that. In fact, I'm not sure I want to write about my yoga practice at all. I know what you're thinking...I'm thinking the same thing. This whole blog was premised on my yoga practice...so what else is there to write about, aside from Princess Fur stories and tales of the Public Transit system? (my Facebook peeps are rolling their eyes).
I told Cabbage, "I'll just see how it goes."
But here's something: About 30 minutes ago, I dropped my keys down the elevator shaft. Happy New Year, *PLUNK*
I'm blaming this one on my Astanga Gremlin.
Remember the Gremlin? Well, it's been hanging out in my right lumbar lately wreaking all kinds of havoc (particularly in backbends). Until this afternoon, that is, when it decided abruptly to decamp to my right acromioclavicular joint. I'm not going to pin this one on yoga, at least not directly. In truth, I've spent the past week hauling my Manduka and a knapsack full of sodden yoga clothing around the city. I think I threw something out of whack.
I've been icing it all day. To save wear and tear, I decided to load my laundry into a cart rather than haul it over my shoulder as I usually do. I put my keys in the cart and as I was rolling it on to the elevator, the whole thing tipped over.
I'm a BIG believer in spare keys. I grew up on a sailboat and learned early on that no matter how careful you are, no matter how many 'floating key rings' you buy, lanyards to wear around your neck, precautions taken, prayers uttered, keys will always go overboard when you least expect it - and when the water is 20 feet deep, you can't get them back. Accordingly, I'm the founder of my building's 'key club'. No less than three of my neighbours have my spares at the ready. And I keep another spare in my apartment.
So it's not really *that* big of a disaster. I'll get the keys back in a week or two when the elevator technician stops by for scheduled maintenance.
But my shala keys are now at the bottom of the elevator shaft. So if you're my shalamate, please know that we'll be opening a bit later than usual tomorrow, at 6am when my teacher arrives.
And just to be clear, I'm blaming this whole fiasco on my Gremlin. ;-)
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