Upside down drunk
Tonight B fell asleep early (something to do with the 1/2 hour of sleep he got the night before), the pups were all tucked in around him, and I was left with The Belgariad and a bottle of shiraz. Incidentally, two days ago we treated ourselves to pewter-stemmed wineglasses from Williams Sonoma, and if there's something that screams, "Please drink red wine while reading about wizards!" it's pewter-stemmed wineglasses. Anyway. The wine has been slowly but steadily disappearing, the wine glass has steadily been getting even awesomer, the inherent wisdom of David Eddings has been progressively becoming clearer (and even inspired me to get out a highlighter once (yes, your fault)), and I have been becoming way more fun than usual. Somewhere deep in the third glass I felt the need for Piroulines and instead of walking to the kitchen for them I felt the need to run on tiptoe! Then quick, tiptoe run back before Polgara notices I'm missing and scolds me! Then imp-giggle as I munch and slip back into another world.
Later, I stand up impulsively to try a handstand. The idea of drunk-yoga is oh-so-appealing. I tried kitten-yoga the other day and it was wonderful (in paschimottanasana, Radar jumped onto my back then slowly kneaded between my shoulder blades, reminding me where to open and where to breathe) (by the way, in case you need to be inspired). Then from handstands and yoga, my body calls to me and I do ballet, leaning comfortably into a penchee. I love, love that my body remembers what my brain doesn't. That my spinning mind is subordinate to my disciplined body. That my old party trick of doing a cartwheel with one hand, the other hand holding a full glass of (insert beverage that I was too young to hold) without spilling a drop, was more than a trick, but a true statement.
This joy in motion is hard to explain.
Pure delight.
Later, I stand up impulsively to try a handstand. The idea of drunk-yoga is oh-so-appealing. I tried kitten-yoga the other day and it was wonderful (in paschimottanasana, Radar jumped onto my back then slowly kneaded between my shoulder blades, reminding me where to open and where to breathe) (by the way, in case you need to be inspired). Then from handstands and yoga, my body calls to me and I do ballet, leaning comfortably into a penchee. I love, love that my body remembers what my brain doesn't. That my spinning mind is subordinate to my disciplined body. That my old party trick of doing a cartwheel with one hand, the other hand holding a full glass of (insert beverage that I was too young to hold) without spilling a drop, was more than a trick, but a true statement.
This joy in motion is hard to explain.
Pure delight.