When we were living in NYC, Dan used to tell me that the weather in Los Angeles was "overrated."
"What are you talking about?" I would say, thinking this was just one of Dan's crazy notions.
People, the weather in Los Angeles is overrated.
It is July, and I am freezing. I am wearing clothes I would normally reserve for wintertime. While most of the country is sweltering in 100-degree heat, it's too cool for school here. Sure, it's nice. Low humidity. Imagine a nice April day in New York City. Pleasant, but you still need a sweater.
While that is awesome in January and February, now in July, I kind of miss real summer. I want to wear tank tops and sundresses. I made watermelon strawberry ice pops this week, but have zero desire to eat them. Don't you love a popsicle when it's scorching hot? Yeah, never gonna happen. (Note: If I chose to live 30 minutes east of where I live now, I would have a different tale to tell.)
I can't tell you how gleeful Dan is that he was right (for once!) He never rubs it in my face though. Come on, do you really believe that?
Despite this, my
farmer's tan grows worse and worse. It just happens here. You don't even have to go outside. No amount of SPF lotion can stop it. Women's magazines have brainwashed me about the effects of the sun damage. I have been vigilant about sunscreen for the last decade, but it's no use now. People, I am turning into a giant wrinkle. In my farmer area.
In conclusion of my rant, I would like to discuss the yoga class I went to last week. It was at the famous studio down the street with a BIG DEAL yoga teacher. BIG DEAL meaning I actually own one of her workout DVDs.
I should have known I was in trouble when I asked my neighboring yogi on the mat next to me if she had taken this instructor before.
She answered, "Oh yeah. She is amazing. She's the ultimate goddess."
I kid you not, we spent the first 20 minutes of class playing maracas.
The actual yoga part wasn't so bad. They had live drumming (of course) and the teacher talked about air, water, fire and earth, and the 100 people packed in the room were in a deep trance, sweating buckets. That's when the goddess decided we should work in partners. Does anyone else think that working with a partner in yoga class sounds horrifying? Look at these pictures if you are
unsure.
I can't remember exactly what was asked of us, but it was something along the lines of having one person go into
crow pose with the other person standing and straddling the person's head so the crow person can better balance and straighten their leg? Something crazy. All I know is that I barely do crow pose and if I did, I wouldn't want some stranger's sweaty thighs helping me do it. When the class was extended from an hour and a half to a two hour class(!), I got out of there. Fast. I got stuff to do. And it's not maraca playing.
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