Blagoblag?

How very ... ethnographic.

Breathing continuously

This was the first lesson I learned in yoga. It's a lesson that all of us will keep learning our whole lives, but a beautiful lesson.

PS: Can you believe that before I starting taking yoga classes, I thought that the belly tucks in when you breathe in?

i googled my sister, to no avail.
but the name of our deadbeat father shows up when you google her.
he shows up as the winner of a stereo in a lottery for a charitable foundation.

why the smugness when his name shows up in connexion with hers, but not with mine?

Tee hee, Colonists.

Colon Traits and Tendencies

The Colon is the chosen pose of individuals who, on their own, seem awkward or remote. They may be the sort who responds to telephone messages with email, or spends their lunchtimes quietly pedometer-walking in lieu of socializing with coworkers. But when a Colonist finds its mate, together they acquire a grace and ease that surprises friends and family.

Comfort Zone

The Colon is one of the Sea Sleeper poses. Other Sea poses you might try: The Ticket Puncher and Sixth Posture of the Perfumed Forest.

A Note About Coping

Since Colonists rely so heavily on their partners to give them context and spark, the times when business or family obligations take one of them away from home can leave both sleepers demoralized. To temporarily fill the void, swap in a large, carnival-sized stuffed animal, making sure to keep candles, space heaters, or other combustibles well away from the bedside.

Find your own pose!

Waaaay up north

The smaller print of which reads:

• Who is your Sober Driver?
• Alcohol Sux
• Open your Heart, not the Bottle
• Grow up to be Beer-Belly Free!

A lesson we could all use to learn: Alcohol Sux.

Spring fever

Were those the voices in my head again? How else could I be hearing, between gusts of southwest wind, Australian-tinged shouts on the pedestrian bridge?

"G'day, boat!"
"I love you, boat! Farewell!"
"Go, boat, go!"

Okay. So the sun was shining, the wind was blowing, and two drunk Australians were drinking beer on the bridge, cheering on a glinting silver object as it bobbed on the river.
They ignored the runners and cyclists but greeted me with gusto.

"G'evening, or I mean, g'day," one hiccuped. "Do you got a farewell message for our boat?"
"Your boat?"
"Yeah, we're making boats today." The other guy pointed to his beer can and grinned. "Now come on, give us something with emotion."
It was a bad week and I froze up as soon as I heard "emotion." Oh, you drunk darlings, if you want emotion, I could scream and cry at the goddamn boat. I could rage, rage at the dying of the light. I could send it sweet farewells while sobbing, but don't ask for something witty and drunkenly endearing.

A wan "go boat go."
"Aw, come on, something with Emotion!"
Shrugged my shoulders. "I gots nothing, mates. Sorry."

They heckled me gently as I walked away, turned back to the river and bellowed encouragement to their boat.

Punctuation changes everything.

Badger badger badger badger, MUSHROOM! MUSHROOM!

Badger, badger. Badger, badger: MUSHROOM -- MUSHROOM!

Badger. Badger. Badger. Badger! MUSHROOM; MUSHROOM!

In other news, my "european herb garden" (complete with "grow lamp") has an unexpected guest: mushroom! mushroom! He started as a little straw with a brown top. He grew up up uuuuup and then out out oouuuuttt and got a fat little top. And now if I forget to water the plants he shrivels up and if I give them lots of water he gets nice and fat. You can see the little shrivel marks on him from last time I let them get too dry.

I love my european herb garden and watch it every day with amazement. Sprouting the seeds was a joy not to be expressed with words. And now they are finally starting to look like their adult counterparts.