I'm more grateful ... even if I AM a cranky bitch.

I've been a cranky bitch lately but I gotta give myself credit where credit is due: I'm a lot more grateful for life's simple pleasures than I was, say, 10 years ago. Three examples:

I felt lucky as hell to have a private yoga session at lunch. I wasn't going to go to yoga today—too much to get done—but a meeting was wrapping up just a few minutes before I had to run down the hall (how freaking lucky is that) to the class, if I was going to do it. Then I realized that today was the last day for my unlimited pass (read: "free" class) so I went for it. And—no doubt because it was 50 degrees and beautiful today—I was the only student who showed up. Jane read an piece by Pema Chodron (it included  "dog poop" - awesome) and then led us through a invigorating flow. She  helped me figure out how to get into a headstand, balancing on my forearms instead of my hands. It was super fun.

My friend Holly bought me the sweet vintage apron (hanging over my face) a decade ago.
I wear it to wash dishes because I'm super messy. 

I was totally psyched to get my hair trimmed. When to comes hair changes, I'm usually not satisfied with subtle. (This once led to a major hair disaster 2 weeks before my wedding.) Again and again, I grow it long mostly so I can lop it off into a pixie. Total makeover. Dopamine rush. Before that I started that cycle, I used to have Nathan streak it with shades that varied from high-contrast blonde to crayon red. I aim for a high-impact change. But right now I'm  growing it out so all I got was a trim—which usually just leaves me bored. Tonight, I was just happy to hang with Hannah. And I do have less of mullet than I did at 5:59.

I'm actually digging an evening work session. Even though I generally love what I do for work, second-shift sessions can be a drag. Tonight, though, while I type in this room (taking some time to procrastinate by writing this post), Olin is working on his computer in the next one. The Clash is on the radio. I'm sipping chai and eating chocolate. He's drinking Dogfish. We took a time-out so I could show him my new headstand—and he could one-up me with his fancy side crow. Whatever, dude.

What I strive for isn't necessarily what makes me feel alive.

We are all frail. We all make mistakes. We all fall prey to a thousand emotions and exaggerations... In truth, it is not the tissue of our humanity that defeats us, but rather our refusal to accept who we are and to live accordingly, limitations included.  

Jane, the awesome yoga teacher, read this bit from Mark Nepo's book, The Book of Awakening today at the end of class. It resonated so I looked it up again this evening. Then I bought the book. The purchase is a Compact violation, no doubt, as the copy I ordered is new but... 1) It seems the book could ultimately make me more mindful, less wasteful and 2) I have an Amazon credit—birthday gift from Jon's parents—that, week by week, is being eaten away by Walking Dead zombies. And I don't even watch the show. Actually, I think my second point actually makes the Compact violation worse. So maybe scratch that one.

In any case, I've been spending a lot of time lately thinking about what I'm not:

• A person takes detailed digital notes and files them logically.
• A daughter/sister/friend who sends birthday cards and gifts before the actual anniversary.
• A mom who always remembers when it's snack week in the kindergarten class and bring-a-book-from-home day in the preschool one. 
• Someone who always knows just the right thing to say and the right times not to say ANYTHING.

Definitely not me. But all week, I'm been wishing things like this were true. Wishing I were not the person who scribbles to-dos with purple pens on random scraps of paper and scatters them across the earth. Who is still carrying my mom's birthday card and gift in my purse, 2 months and 1 day later. Who forgets Pirate Booty, and then a pirate book, on two consecutive days. Who blurts out 97% of things that cross my brain.

I can certainly strive to do better; I can stand to evolve. But now it strikes me that I also need to keep in mind what sorts of things most make me feel really happy and alive—like watching brilliant people do things that have nothing to do with order and measure and restraint.* Like Christopher Walken dancing his ass off in basically every movie he's ever made. (And the masterminds who made the montage of him doing it.) Or the OK Go dudes who combined campy choreography and rolling treadmills into one mindblowing video that makes me giddy every time I watch. And that's just what I do when I'm in a really shitty mood: I load up that OK Go video. 

Because that's the kind of person I am. Whatever that means.

*I realize it most definitely took order and measure and restraint to produce this art but you get what I'm saying, right? 

This photo is a screen shot from this video, which you should totally watch. Right now.