Thursday, July 19, 2012

Yoga mats and a handicapped chicken

Happy Thursday!

Ok, maybe not so happy.  My children are currently tattling and bickering with each other.  The Dipshit Dingo Dog is pestering Mattie, and the chickens are literally picking at each other.

Yes picking.  Chicken Mole' has something wrong with her leg and is limping.  We can't figure out if it is her toe or her actual leg.  I am not about to crate up the damn chicken and schlep her over to CSU to have them charge me $100 to tell me my $3 chicken has a broken toe that can't be fixed just like people.  She seems to be eating and drinking just fine, but in the pecking order world she is lagging behind.  Therefore she is getting picked on.  So we have quarantined her in the coop away from the others with food and water in hopes that her poor head will quit getting, well...... picked on.

Yes, I have a chicken in my bathroom, and no, the tile has not been replaced and is going on 6 mo. living in the mudroom.  Don't judge.  After a round of peroxide and neosporin, she appears to be doing better, and not look like she got into a wicked cock fight.

Typical day.  Yup.  I feel like throwing in the towel and heading to the lake.  Alas, I am trying my hardest to finish up a landscaping plan, (ok, only trying so hard seeing as I am whining and writing instead.)

Everyday day stresses although minor, add up.  I carry an obnoxious amount of that tension in my shoulders.  I of course figured this out because I couldn't lift my arms yesterday.  Tell you why in a second.

I also learned via Pinterest last night  (the new Web MD when it comes to diagnosing and fixing your maladies,) that the reason I have a sway back bubble butt, and poochy gut is because my hip flexors are too tight.  Brilliant!  Nope, has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that I possibly could have binged on a rack of ribs and amaretto apples from Famous Dave's, my sodium level is probably out the roof from eating pickles causing me to retain 12 lbs. of water, or genetically that the women in my family have a gut and bubble butt.  Oh yeah, let's not forget about those 2 c-sections that separated my abdominal muscles.'s just my hip flexors being too tight.

Back to the reason I couldn't lift my arms.  I took a Yoga class, and I enjoyed it.  Holy crap, the angels are singing.  A friend of mine and teacher at the ballet company is getting her yoga teacher certification and needed some guinea pigs to teach a practice class to.  Now I have taken yoga classes before so I wasn't clueless.  And let us not forget that I am someone who runs around town in yoga clothes looking like I just took a 2 hr Bikram class.  But is actually just a lazy poser who hasn't showered for 2 days and is snatching cookies not kale for her kids in Whole Foods while wearing stretchy black pants, a headband, and flip flops.  (I also tend to do this with running apparel too.)  I don't like yoga.  I do ballet, I take Pilates, I jog slowly, I ride the elliptical to the moon and back.  I don't do yoga.

I even own a really cute yoga mat.  Which was happy I am sure, to have the Velveeta scraped off of it, and put to its intended use vs. its current use as a roof for a fort in the kids bedroom.  I got my mat from a friend of mine who owns a store in town here:

It is from the Boulder Mat Company.  Super thick, and the turtle is cute.  No that is not me.  Let's get real here people.

But this class was different for many reasons.  It was taught by someone who is good teacher, and was at my ballet studio.  I was amongst friends in a familiar setting.  So if I fell over no one would judge, or care.  I could relax and focus on what I was doing properly instead of worrying about how much of an idiot I must look like.

I have had classes before where the teacher is more interested in showing off really hard poses that are so impossible no one except Inspector Gadget can attempt.  Go Go Gadget leg.  Or are so damn slow and boring that by the time the class is over my ADD has kicked into full force, and I have mentally meal planned for a month and written my entire grocery list in my head, alphabetized it, and organized it by aisle number.  Every once in a while I catch myself chanting "Ohm" in the cereal aisle.  This class wasn't any of those things.  Nor was it in a hot box.  I don't do hot anything unless there is a large body of water, pina colada, or slot machine involved.

What..... it is not like I am picky or something.  

So there you go.  I got a good workout, relaxed my shoulders a bit, and even stretched my hip flexors.  Maybe tomorrow I can actually get my pants buttoned because my gut and butt will be tucked into place.  Truthfully though, we all know I'll just put on some stretchy yoga pants instead.  Now that this post is way longer then intended, I am off to witness the damage my kids have done to the living room.  Because Lord only knows what they have done with the yoga mat now.    


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