August 2011


Cutting to the chase…too excited for wit and sarcasm!  Kripalu, aka one of my favorite places in the whole world, has posted hour long yoga classes on their website…and they’re free to watch!

I am beyond excited right now.  I love my yoga studios around town and have met some fabulous teachers.  It’s also great to have a physical place to go where I can practice and meet people with similar interests.  However, every once and a while there are always those little reasons for not wanting/being able to go to the studio…oh, say, like a category 1 hurricane.

I have had some fabulous classes at Kripalu, so for me the fact that these videos are posted means that I get to go back to the Berkshires.  The first time I went there I went with a good friend, Jacquelyn.  The second time I went I went up by myself and met some really sweet people in my program and just around the property.  I ate delicious food that made me feel lighter and healthier (OMG…PEASANT BREAD!!) and I remembered how to take a walk without going anywhere in particular (DID I MENTION THE PEASANT BREAD???!).  If you have never been…GO!

On the website there are gentle, moderate, and vigorous class videos posted.  I was always a little apprehensive to go to vigorous classes while I was at Kripalu, so perhaps I’ll try one now that I can do it in the privacy of my own home.  Actually…that sounds like a fabulous idea! 🙂


Yesterday, since I survived the hurricane and all, I went for a run.  I also needed to break in my new sneakers, which I love but for the next couple of runs will cause me nothing but frustration and sore knees (pretty much what happens when you try anything or anyone new).

I did my typical 3.2 mile run around the neighborhood, but this excursion was different all because I looked to the left.  When I run outside, as I’m guessing most people do, I usually look straight ahead of me.  If there’s any curvature of the neck it’s usually downward to make sure there aren’t any big dips or branches that could cause me to relive the Tumble of ’96 (quite traumatizing. far too painful to discuss on the interweb.).  Looking ahead is also a good way to distract me from the fact that I’ve been running for over 2 miles and I’m tired.  Rarely do I break tradition by looking side to side unless I have to cross the street.

On this particular run, however, as I ran down South Triangle Road, I looked a little bit to the left.  I have gone down this road countless times (tried to count, failed).  And yet, this one time because I looked a little bit to the left I noticed a field.  It wasn’t anything insanely expansive.  People from Iowa probably wouldn’t bat an eye.  But regardless of what those corn pushers might think, I was really taken aback by this field that I’d ignored for so long.  Usually my peripheral vision never passed the “For Sale” sign at the edge of the sidewalk.  Why the hell had I never wondered what exactly was for sale?  Continuing this new found curiosity and cranial motion I looked to the left a little more…hell, I even gave the right side a little attention!  Here’s what I saw that I swear to bejesus, I had never noticed:

1. Mary Mother of God Church finally has a roof after almost a year of construction.

2. My parents driving on Triangle Road, waving and flashing their lights at me.

3. The realtor sign that I thought had been taken down, sadly laying under a bunch of branches next to a metal fence.

4. A community of birds nests in a tree that I usually dodge because of it’s long branches.

So maybe I didn’t have an amazing, post natural disaster epihpany along the way.  Oh well.  Just the fact that I saw things that I don’t usually see  and that are worth seeing, except for the cooky parents, was enough for me.  I fully intend to go to some of my other running routes once the rivers have stopped flooding, and look a little to the left.

When you look a little to the left after staring straight for so long, what do you see?  Anything new?  Anything naked?

The Vatican is setting aside six days in which women who have had abortions can confess their sin and get a clean slate, aka a Pass Go & Collect $200 card into heaven.  The f*&!??  Here is my problem with religion, and I promise not to ramble for too long (please ignore promise if ramble exceeds 20 lines).

This is not about my opinion on abortion.  Rather, it has to do with my opinion on religion, or at least, how many people around the world use religion.  In this instance religion is being twisted and meddled with in order for one group (the Catholic Church) to reassert their control over another (women).  It wasn’t enough to just go with the standard “you’re wrong if you do this because it is written in a thousands of year old book that was written by a bunch of dudes”.  Now the Church seems to want to show it’s benevolence (aka extreme power of the flip flop variety) by taking back those it excommunicated. 

What is the purpose of these six days?  Is God that lenient, or is man that coniving?  I am so incredibly not a reader of the good book unless you’re referring to the good book of do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  However,  I was under the impression that what is written in the Bible is the word and the word cannot be changed.  Isn’t that the reason for Michelle Bachman’s straighten up and fly hetero camps?  The book says that one man cannot be with another man so get the hell outta dodge or you better start dodging the road signs to hell.  What is written in the Bible and how it is interpretted by those in power is what it means and cannot be changed…right?  I know I keep asking the same question, but if that is the case then what do these six days mean?  I know many Catholics who are kind, accepting people…my mom being one of them, though she is of the fallen variety.  Why do we have to come up with a set of rules to make it so easy to kick people out of our club and putz around with those rules just to scare those same people back into submission?  Isn’t the point of God to love God and to come together in his good name?  If you’re going to believe in God then that is what I think you should do, but what do I know?…I’m a live free, yoga practicing, spiritual, karma toting, Jew in the cultural sense.

I suppose that this post is another little glimpse into the mind of me for you readers.  I am pretty much anti-getting involved/putting too many eggs in one basket.  Through observation and experience I have learned that in most cases, investing all of yourself into one thing, oh let’s say, an organized religion, tends to strip you of rationality and independent thought.  Committment and passion are wonderful things, but take them too far and you just end up as one of the crowd, sharing the same brain and liver function.  I would be against this six day “reprieve” no matter which organized religion was setting it up because in my opinion it just doesn’t make sense for man to enact the word of God when God isn’t around to defend himself.

Respect each other. Don’t judge him because of how he was born or her because of how she chooses to live. Don’t selfishly speak for others, and please, assume that God has a sense of humor…I mean, have you seen the duck billed platypus?*

So that’s my opinion.  I would be happy to hears your…

*Note: joke was intended for humor purposes and was not intended to be cruel.  The duck billed platypus can be in my club any day of the week.  We can eat corndogs and watch chick flicks.

Damn you “Surprise Homecoming”.  You make me cry, make me way more patriotic (temporarily) than I am comfortable being, and you rip my cynicism right from under me.

That is…until last night.  Surprise Homecoming is a show on TLC in which members of the military surprise their loved ones by coming home from the Middle East.  These reunions are done in public in high falooting ways and there are always tears.  Can you say “heart strings”?  Probably the worst part of the show is that it’s hosted and narrated by Billy Ray Cyrus.  Anti-Christ?  Well, that’s debateable.  But what is a stone cold fact is that his monotone voice is as soul-crushing as the appearance of his mullet.  However, once you get past Mr. Cyrus and his ungodly/uncomfortable…well…everything, the show is a sweet account of families reuniting after incredibly stressful periods of time spent apart.

While watching Surprise Homecoming I always cry.  ALWAYS, and last night was no different.  I was two skips away from weeping as an Air Force soldier surprised his daughter during her Girl Scout meeting.  Not only that, but he also met his 8-month old child for the first time.  You’re crying a little right now, aren’t you?  As I watched I thought, “Oh shit…this is it.  I am no longer snarky.  I can no longer find the rediculousness in everyday life because this damn show and Billy Ray Cyrus have taken it away from me by force feeding me childhood innocence and patriotic hoo-ha.  Goodbye free thought and satire.  I guess it’s time for my eyeballs to finally straighten now that there will be no more rolling of them.  Bring on the good old red, white, blue, and sap!

But then…an angel came down from heaven and she was dressed as an overly emotional Girl Scout leader.  The leader…I forget her name…I think it was Sappy Pants McGoo, became so emotional at the reunion of father and daughter that as she spoke to the camera she couldn’t get more than two words at a time out before choking up so hard that the subsequent two words were incomprehensible.  It was…so goddamn hilarious you guys.  “It’s just *suck in breath suck in breath* so beautiful *exaggerated exhale exaggerated inhale*.”  This went on for a good paragraph of overly emotional hilarity.

I am SURE she was being sincere and I know that it’s slightly hypocritical of me to mock someone who was moved by the same thing that had driven me to tears.  But, I mean…come on!  My tears were falling liquid bits of Hell compared to this womans, and I was still able to form complete sentences.  In fact, I was able to laugh.  Laugh so hard that I almost fell off the bed.  Laugh so hard that I had completely forgotten about the reunion, Mr. Cyrus, or the *just a little too much* that often comes with a show that discusses homecomings, children, veterans, and/or country music.

Sure, I can be sappy and silly, just as long as the majority of me is snarky and witty.  It’s how I was raised and it’s how I like to be.  Come cry on my shoulder and I’ll stroke your hair and give you my advice…but I’m also gonna break the sadness with a joke at your expense, but just know that it’s all out of love.  Watching this little snippet of Surprise Homecoming my cynicism was reborn and it made me feel like me again.  It also reminded me why I quit the Girl Scouts in the 6th grade.

This is a plea to women who have that woman gene that this woman does not have.

When you are invited to a 1920s muder mystery party, as women often are, and you have long straight hair, as women nowadays do, what do you do??  My hair (wardrobe, personality, political views, etc.) are made for a 1960s/70s themed party, but when it comes to the Prohibition era I’m pretty lost.  I won’t cut it and I don’t want to spend the money to have it done professionally (told you…missing the gene). 

Thoughts, ladies??

I had a VERY busy/fun weekend with friends and family.  A wedding weekend without the wedding, if you will.  Bridal shower followed by engagement party followed by excellent deep dish pizza at Giovanni’s Pizza in Southington.  As fun as the weekend was, it was also exceptionally tiring thanks to all of the New England driving I did. (OK, I know I said no talking about the weekend, but allow me one complaint…WHY do New Hampshire malls, or should I say, the mall in Manchester, NH, open the big department stores and Auntie Anne’s before noon, but the other stores don’t open until noon exactly??  The poor Foot Locker employee looked so sad standing outside of his store, in his black and white striped shirt, bars shutting him out of his source of income.  Almost poetic.  Almost.)

Perhaps the most daunting part of the weekend, and yea, I know this will sound a little sad, was being surrounded by rED sOX FANS.  This a species that I have heard much of, but admittedly have not spent much time with.  They don’t usually migrate south of Hartford…thankfully.  Yankees fans and red sox fans have a lot in common.  They are both incredibly passionate about their teams and appear to have a part of the brain that does nothing short of explode when the other team is even mentioned.  At this point I really couldn’t give two and a half craps about the sox themselves (cough cough 86 years cough cough you’ll never be us hack).  I’m fairly certain that not even the most relaxing and enlightening yoga practice could make me a nicer person when it comes to this rivalry.  For me, baseball trumps enlightenment any day of the week (especially during the post seas0n).

When my shit-talking is geared towards baseball rivalries, it is really geared towards the fans.  Not the individuals…I won’t disown friends or family members because of their loyalties.  But when it comes to the big crowd of red sox fans…those baked bean eating, most f-ed up accent in the country sounding, couldn’t survive a day in manhattan sox fans…

…well, that happens.  I’M SO MEAN!  Are ALL Yankees fans mean??  Do I even mean what I say??  When it comes to red sox fans…absolutely.  Sorry.  Hate to generalize but I recognize when it is necessary and so should you.  My boss…the guy who could fire me, is a big sox fan and yet I go head to head with him when the subject arises.  Fire me, but fire me because my team is better than yours and you know it and if there’s one thing that’s more difficult to break out of than jail, it’s being either a Yankees or red sox fan.  After a bartender in New Hampshire saw my New Jersey license this weekend he immediately grouped together his stereotypes.  I had already done the same thing about him when as I ordered my Sam Adams Summer I never took my eyes off of his sox hat.  I proceeded to mock them every chance I got.  The bartender was a good sport and still poured some excellent Jack & Cokes, but I knew that if I’d said what I’d said at the Sunset Bar & Grille in Boston, MA, I’d have been taken to Fenway PAAHHHHk and been locked away in the lower levels where they keep the red sox paraphanalia…a true punishment.  Maybe New Hampshire is a little more low key about this rivalry.  If you’re too stoned to open your malls before noon then you’re probably too stoned to care about sports, let alone sports rivalries.

The Yankees/red sox rivalry is not about coming together for the love of the game.  It’s not about recognizing the accomplishments of both teams and saying “hey, see you in March”, or letting a red sox bartender do his job without mockery.  It doesn’t matter whose turf you’re on.  Bleeding blue and white and bleeding whatever the hell the sox are…orange and lavender?…once it’s with you it’s with you.  Let’s leave that pathetic display of surrender and “friendship” to the Mets and Phillies fans…