Child with Toy Hand Grenade in Central Park, New York City (1962)
Earlier this week, I attended a yoga class with my brit-stepmum-in-law. The instructor was a total beer pig. She had the most hair raising inflection. Nothing like my former yoga cum therapist, who could lull me into oblivion with her KathIeen Turner, but less cigarettey & more buttery voice. I really need to get off my dimpled ass and go back to one of her sessions.
During one of the stretches, B.P. came over and moved my foot! ACK! I almost peed a little. I thought yoga was a personal practice? I just curled up in child pose (aka fetal position) and wished that I could bend time. The kicker, was that she kept chirping, "Okay, now on to warrior pose... you're a peaceful warrior." Um, really?!