I will not be blogging for a little while, as I will be attending the Natural Products Expo East trade show in Baltimore, MD. Working for almost two weeks straight, so I will be using my spare time to practice and go to meetings and sleep. Hopefully there will be some nifty new vegan products at the show—I will report back with details if I see anything exciting. See you in a week or so!
I had to backtrack and look at my old blog to review something that I did last year. Right around this time in 2011, I went to a Baptiste Power Yoga class that nearly killed me. I almost threw up like five times. I had to get up and go sit in the corner and take a break. No one else took a break. It was either take a break or throw up or pass out or all of the above. My normal MO would have been to leave the class and be pissed off and humiliated. Instead, I stayed and finished. And didn’t go to another class for almost a year! I stayed at home and practiced alone with DVD’s until I started the Ashtanga experiment at the end of March 2012.
Fast forward to August 26th, 2012—I went to my very first yoga workshop ever. It also happened to be my first official Ashtanga class with a teacher. I just have to jump into the fire! It was me and three other women (two of whom were Ashtanga teachers!) and it was two and a half hours long. My home practices just recently increased to 45 minutes.
The yoga studio holding the workshop is called Blue Sky. The owner is a former showgirl who is a Jivamukti instructor. The space is in the Arts Factory in downtown Las Vegas, and all of the walls are covered in art from local artists. There’s also a bar next door to the studio and they happened to have a bluegrass band playing for the duration of the entire workshop. Hearing banjos while I was sweating and cursing and crying was at the very least amusing. It made me feel instantly at home, like I was back in Austin, TX.
My first thought after I stopped ooooing and aaahing all of the Catholic-themed art and giggling about the banjos was: I am going down in flames. Tapas barbeque. There is no way that I am going to be able to do this. My second thought: of course, I am the fattest person in the room, goddammit. Luckily, there was not much time to think about my fatness once Jen Knox got rolling. I plunged into Primary Series and just tried to stay alive. I’ve never even truly looked at the entire Primary series, never mind tried to actually do it. It seems so daunting that I just focus on one asana at a time and don’t look at any of the ones beyond that unless I am forced to (like while watching Kino MacGregor youtube videos or something). I used to watch just the beginning of the Richard Freeman Primary Series VHS back in the day and then I would panic and turn it off.
Well, I did every asana in the entire freaking Primary Series, albeit severely modified. There was no begging off and no backing out. There were straps and bricks and bolsters going on like crazy. Jen was amazingly kind and made me feel like I was where I belonged. By the end of it, I was wrung out/high/delusional/severely dehydrated from sweating like a beast. I’m not even sure how I got home. For the next three days, I felt like I got run over by the Ashtanga truck. However, now I am hooked. I want more. I can do this. Even though on a daily basis I frequently feel like an Ashtanga failure, this workshop made me see how far I have come in a year.
Pattabhi Jois was right, Ashtanga is for everyone, even old, fat, busted up desk jockeys. On Labor Day I am going back to Blue Sky for their beginning Ashtanga class, since I looove to do things backwards. Different teacher, so wish me luck!
One of my coworkers told me that there was a new restaurant around the corner from our office that was pretty yummy. I took the plunge and went with our Lab Director and IT guy to check it out.
Our Lab Director is Korean, and we are both always on the lookout for Korean food. We decided to order the Korean Kim Chi Ramen Noodle Bowl. I asked the server if it could be made without any animal products and with veggie broth. They were very accomodating!
The portion was HUGE and it was very light and filling with tons of veggies. I wish it had more Kim Chi (I’m a certified KimChi-a-holic) and was maybe spicier. In an surprise move, it looks like they didn’t use oil AND they also had green smoothies on their menu! That’s not something you see every day. Hopefully they will add more veg and vegan options to the menu if we pester them enough. They don’t have a website, but here’s a link to their Facebook page:
I went back again this week and the bowl was actually even better this time.
I’m sitting at my doctor’s office waiting to find out if I need to go to the hospital to get IV antibiotics for this crazy raging infection in my right index finger. It just popped up over night out of nowhere…typing wronghanded is weird, but calming. No yoga for me for 3 days in a row. Hate it! In the future, I will not take for granted the gift of being able to step on the mat and practice. Looking forward to the moment when I can…
In the meantime, deep breathing, lots of rest and acceptance of this very shitty moment…not going to even front like it’s enjoyable. I accept that it sucks! And I’m very grateful I have access to antibiotics and medical care. Very, very grateful…
Well, I just got out of the hospital a few days ago. They admitted me Wednesday and I was discharged late Friday night. Had to have IV antibiotics (AKA Napalm) because I had a crazy MRSA infection in the finger I had surgery on in 2011. I would post a picture, but it’s just too damn gross even for me, Morbid Medical Girl. Apparently, the surgeon left a suture inside my finger by accident. My body formed a granuloma around it and is trying to push it out of my body and it got badly infected during this process. Typing one-handed and feeling very, very frustrated. Not feeling well at all–the antibiotics are kicking my ass. No Ashtanga practice or any exercise at all for a week now. Pretty much bed bound. Trying to accept it all and not let it get me down. It’s hard not to be super-reactive right now about this. I am a control freak and the worst patient EVER. I screamed at one of the nurses because they wouldn’t give me coffee–had to have it smuggled in by my friends! I know I wasn’t *that* mad about the coffee, I was just mad about the whole damn clusterfuck that is my right index finger. Made amends to the nurse right away, but man, I was cranky. At least I am well enough to blog about it and laugh at myself a little. And at least my finger and hand are still attached to my body–the infection was starting to spread up my arm!
Today is the one year anniversary of my Father’s death. RIP, Candido Jose…1/23/35-5/9/2011. Bad ass Aquarian, Salty Cuban-American, Secret Anarchist, Korean War Vet, Braniac and Most Likely To Be Hilariously Inappropriate At Any Given Moment.
It’s been so strange not having my life revolve around caring for my Dad, hanging out with my Dad or worrying about my Dad…he had Parkinson’s disease, and my brothers and I had been taking care of him since about 1998. Parkinson’s fucking sucks. Watching someone die because they can no longer swallow their own saliva sucks. He’s not suffering anymore, and depending on my mood either I imagine him playing poker, drinking whiskey and eating chocolate in an alternate Universe or reincarnated as a very rebellious one-year old little girl who leaves a path of destruction and cuteness in her wake.