I started doing yoga.
Actually, a couple friends of mine were twittering back and forth about how awesome it was, so peer pressure snuck in and yeah, I tried it.
And it felt good.
Well, afterwards anyway.
I did have to sign up for an opt-in newsletter, than wait for the staged video links to come in to my inbox within a short enough time for me to still remember I was actually interested, and THEN had to find the right links to click in the needs-a-redo-for-usability newletters to get redirected to a page with the *actual* video on it, when I remember to scroll way down the page enough.
The office is where I read my mail. I’ve been playing the videos on my desktop and trying to follow along. This is not a big room, and it has office chairs in it. Sometimes, another person is in the other chair. While there is a nice patch of floor, it is not in a good viewing spot of the screen.
I am already about a week behind from when I signed up, sporadically fitting it in when I can remember.
Sometimes Emma helps me.
So, there I am on the floor. One eye is trying to follow the screen, I can barely hear the instructor’s insanely chipper and perky voice, my palms flat, my legs extended in two directions and I am using unknown muscles to try and stay upright.
The perky voice tells me to clear my mind and breathe. I’m still trying to find my elbow with my knee while she’s instructing me to the next step, which involves balancing my weight on my wrists.
While I’m wobbling, Emma pipes up, “Isn’t this relaxing Mommy? Don;t forget to breath! Can I help you move this part? Do you feel better yet?”
So for the past couple of days, I put it up earlier on my schedule, before anyone else is up. Downstairs, with a bigger floor in front of the tv, through the Wii & the Internet channel.
Silence, save for the stove kicking on and off, the birds chirping outside. And a nice comfy couch to watch it from.