Devil Worship

Not too long ago, a church leader in Seattle had a few choice words to say about yoga, calling it "demonic" and "a little bit of devil worship".  Makes me think this person hasn't actually gone to yoga.  A friend of mine turned me on to Bikram's (aka hot yoga) about a year or so ago, and since then, I've been making use of the Living Social and Groupon deals to try out different studios.  It's an hour-and-a-half in 120 degrees.  It's the same every class, repetitive, and the only speaking is telling you what to do next - not what to believe or think.  

It's also the only time of my day/ week/ month that I am quiet and still.  It's a time where I feel at peace and pray, meditate on God and practice what I learned in the Quaker church about silence and worship.  During the movements, I don't think about my day, the worries, the stresses or anything else other than breathing, balancing, and sweating :-) (and the only way I can describe the amount of sweat, is to say that I am as wet as if I just climbed out of a pool).  I feel amazing after and realize how much I need the down time in my life (as, even when I'm at home at night, I'm never fully relaxed or at peace - tv, friends, cleaning, and day-to-day life creep in).


Also, when I practice yoga, I feel at peace with me.  I'm okay with who I am, and I feel good when the session is complete.  I love the endorphins coursing through my body, making me feel alive and happy (and even, happy to be alive).  There aren't many times in my life where I've been okay with me.  As far back as I can remember, I was always self-conscious.  About wearing glasses, my height, my size, my teeth, my braces, my glasses, my personality, my lack of athletic ability, my posture, saying the wrong thing, becoming fat, my glasses, everything.  I have never been comfortable with who I am.  I've had the pressure (both actual and perceived) to be perfect.  And I hate that I fail, disappoint those around me, and it even drives me nuts that I'm not okay with me.

But yoga, yoga makes me feel good.  I know I can do it.  My first time, I made it through the entire session without sitting down.  And every time I do a back bend and realize I'm closer to where I should be, or I feel the pain while stretching my hamstrings, I feel like I'm accomplishing something good.  I like that the instructors tell you that some days you can do more than others, and that's okay.  Few other things energize and make me feel like that I actually like me (dancing is another of them, and while there are other moments where I'm okay with me, I'm always self-conscious of what I am doing or how I might be failing).

My therapist has been working with me a lot to start being okay with me, saying what I think/ want and not apologizing for it.  Telling me it is okay, and human, to fail.  To realize, it is okay not being perfect.  It's definitely a journey, but I've enjoyed the little "crumbs" of love I've felt today.  Reminders that life is okay, I don't have to beat myself up when I fail, and that I am loved.

I'll close with these (non-demonic) inspirations, from the Sweatbox's New Year's email:

Yoga is an opportunity-- this year, last year, next year, every day-- to accept ourselves for who we are. To view ourselves with compassion and kindness through our imperfections. When we practice our postures day after day, we practice acceptance of what we can give on that day. We practice letting go of judgment and criticism.


From Hannah's blog (what I feel is nothing compared to what her family has been going through lately, her strength amazes me):

Zephaniah 3:15-17 "...The Lord, the King of Israel, is with you; never again will you fear any harm... The Lord your God is with you, he is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, he will quiet you with his love, he will rejoice over you with singing." 


And from this evening:

"It's not about perfect, it's about practice."

Beaver one, Beaver all...

Tonight, as I was driving on the dreaded Seattle-Portland slog, I finished my audiobook and was forced to be alone with my thoughts. This drive always brings that out - miles and miles of solitude. I've avoided it for a long time, never knowing what my brain would conjure up.

Tonight my thoughts turned to the conversation I'd had with Jackie earlier, about my strong defense over my Beavers. There are only 2 things that will do that to me, my family and my Beavers.  Make fun of or question my alligiance to either, particularly when first meeting me, and you will have removed yourself from me further than the grand canyon is wide. Even now I can feel my defenses going up, my heart rate rising, my bristles coming out.  I'm like a momma bear who is growling at the person who looked at my cub wrong.

I began to think that this was slightly unnatural. I mean, I didn't go to Oregon State, why do I get so defensive?  I thought about how far back my memories go...all the way back to when I was an ugly little girl (and I say that mostly because what I remember people telling me about is how funny I looked in my big glasses...like it was something I could control at the age of 3, but I digress). I remember playing on the basketball court with my cousin, sitting at the football games being entertained by the helmet races on the screen, collecting bottles after the games, having dinner with the family, traveling to bowl games. And as I was driving and thinking, it clicked.

My team is the only true connection I have to my family. The only part of me left that I share with them, the only honest part of me they see. I can't share the rest of me, so this is the only thing left.  The only thing we have in common, what we talk about on the phone, the only reason I come back for more than holidays.  It's sad really, but I suppose it's true. And I guess the real reason I get so defensive, is because it seems like people are trying to sever that last thread, cutting me off from my family completely. The last piece holding me off from becoming an orphan...

So the next time I seem to get overly Beaver crazy, part is because of my loyalty, but the other part is because I still want some connection to my parents, I guess I'm not ready to give up that last thread of hope that I have a family that I can feel a part of...

Life Expected

Sometimes your day is boring and dull, sometimes, it's just fully unexciting.  And then, there are those days when it is great.  But there are those OTHER times where your day, your night, your weekend are amazing.

I had that recently.  I was bored with life.  It was dissatisfying, I was unhappy....depressed.  And then on Thursday night I had dinner with my friend.  A friend who you wouldn't ever give up on, no matter what happened.  A friend who reminds you that it takes work to be a friend and to keep a friend.  Man, was dinner with my wife on Thursday awesome.  And then, I got to repeat it all again on Friday.

Friday...Lynsey and I met up at a wine bar in Post Alley, we were flying solo because of sick or boyfriend sick friends...never mind that, we were together.  Chatting, drinking wine flights, having chocolate and a grand ole time.  One more drink we decided, at a fantastic bar called White Horse... and that one more drink kicked our lil' asses right into the Post... where we bemused, befuddled and bewildered all those Nebraskan boys.  There was nothing but giggles and kisses on our end.

And you could have said my good day ended then...with me waking up the next morning 45 min AFTER my flight had departed. But somehow, it didn't.  The fun times were still rolling along... right with Oregon State beating Louisville (and of course, I think of Elizabethtown every time I say that word, because there are SO many versions of it).  After a little Qdoba with the fam, I headed back north, listening to my book on tape the whole time.... at Gervais I stopped to change into my "going out" attire... skinny cargoes and a hot top... the heels would join my feet later.

Saturday night in Portland was great... it was different from Seattle... not quite as busy and hot to trot, but great all the same. And with Jodie and her friends, we inevitably ended up at Kells, just like any great night would.  Kells provided cigar bars, Celtic bands and Guinness.  Along with drunk couples, sweaty girls and dancing the Irish gig.  Me and my 9" heels finally joined in and had a fantastic time dancing the gig joined with 10 other drunk, happy, pretend-Irishmen.

The night ended, and we all went our separate ways... no one too drunk, but no one too sober either.  I parked, found my bed and slept happily until 5:30am...when Meredith (my car) decided to let me know someone was touching her (you know, in that way in the courts when they give the doll to the child and ask "where did the bad man touch you" kinda way).  I heard her, looked out the window, hoped it wasn't... and then heard her again - they were towing cars on the street I'd parked.  Meredith was being violated, and she was letting the world know.  On went the shorts and shirt, and out the door I went.  Jiggles had nothing on me.  I found the man hurting Mer and begged him to let me park her elsewhere... this man happened to be a friend from college... irony at 530 was more than I could deal w/...especially as the hot mess I had to be...

So Mer and I drove around, and finally found a space in the visitors lot far away...woke up to cheers from the "Race for the Cure" supporters...once showered and coherent, breakfast was had.  Now you have to understand that Portland, Oregon has THE BEST breakfast places in the world.  This morning the Veritable Quandary was chosen... and 7 of us gathered around the round table of King Arthur,  I mean King Veritable, and had our various French Toast brioche, eggs benedict (with or without crab), or corned beef hash... along with VQ-8, Espresso or Champagne cocktails....and an incredibly healthy dose of laughter.  Honestly, I haven't had that great a time laughing and communing with friends since God knows when.  The day was capped off with a tour of the Saturday Market (including hilarious boxers and insanely intelligent art).

My weekend ended with a bang...I finished my Stephen King novel on the drive home.  I mean...and really, that story ended with a bang of a finish.  All I know is that fantastic weekends are still possible and I want more of them.  I had drinks with Sofia tonight.....and then realized that the night was young enough to still have drinks with Lynsey.  If that's not a great way to end a Monday, I don't know what is.

All I can say is that if my life may be boring and dull sometimes, it more than makes up for it when it is exhilarating and fantastical.  I wouldn't trade it for the world, I just have to think that my poor future kids will get tired of hearing, "I remember when"...:)

Paris - the arrival (part 1)

Well, it has been a crazy past month, but I'm starting to get the picture that my life is always like this.  And it seems that the crazier it gets, the more stories I have to tell, and yet, the less I make it to a computer.  So maybe a quick catch-up? (and I'm seeming to get internet from someone at my apartment, so hopefully the blogging bug will hit me more at home, and less in the car on the ride home)

Just over a month ago, I took a leap and left my job.  Now don't get too worried (because some people did give me that look when I said I quit my job), I already had another one lined up.  And so far, yeah, it has been a fantastic move.

My final 2 weeks at Alaska were literally a whirlwind!  I interviewed on Wednesday, heard back that day that they liked me, got my offer, gave my acceptance and my resignation on Thursday - and left for Paris on Friday!

Paris was awesome - 4 days all to myself.  Getting on the flight was hairier than a French armpit, but I made it.  I watched enough movies both on the flight there and the flight back to practically make the ticket a moot point.  I think I got 4 in both ways? (yeah, that is what I said)  I beat that on the flight to Germany - 5.  Either way, the screaming baby did not help me sleep and the ear plugs did no good.  I landed safely in Paris (and let me say, I really think Lufthansa is the best international airline... Air France well, it was so-so.  I felt like I was just in their way... no chocolate or refills.  I had to get them on my own!  Sock-footed and climbing over someone both ways).

I got off the plane and got my stamp to say I officially was in Paris.  Wow, bouncing off the walls!  I found the RER, bought tickets and was off to my little hotel (seriously, little).

I even successfully avoided the beggars looking to "help" tourists.  How traveled am I?  And when I got off the RER and exited the station, who should meet me, but Ms. Notre Dame herself.  Wowza! Nothing beats that.  Off I set, in what I thought was the right direction, but probably 10 blocks later, I stopped, asked for directions and was forced to walk the other way.

Sweaty, hungry and sleepy, I arrived at my hotel and promptly took a nap.  Yes, I know, 4 days and I sleep?!  But I needed it.  When I awoke, well, the heavens could smell me, so I set off on my next adventure - the shower.  Wow... if I wasn't in the shower, I would have say it would have been the funniest thing you've ever seen.  It was smaller than most motor home's showers, and the plastic curtain was made to fit a full-size tub.  The water... wouldn't stay the correct temperature and I left the door open so the breeze combined with heat emanating from the sometimes scalding water forced the curtain to stick to me.  There was no place to put shampoo, conditioner, or soap near you, so you had to bend down - with shower curtain sticking.  Umm, wonder if they ever clean those?  And don't forget that the water has suddenly gone freezing cold so you must get it off as quickly as possible...ok, well, I finally finished.  And thankfully stepped out of that death trap.


On to drying my hair... with a hair dryer that resembled a mini-vacuum cleaner.  If my hair wasn't so short, it would have taken a year to dry.  Plus, the nozzle got too hot to hold, so finishing the job was difficult. ;-).

Finally dressed and ready to go, I headed out.  First stop, food.  I think I passed 5 cafes before I was finally like, damn it, sit down!  So I breezed into the next one, and the waiter promptly gave me a bathroom token and pointed.  Perplexed, I started to head in that direction, only to stop, turn back and have him point me downstairs.  Geez... lucky for the lady in the bathroom without the token, I didn't have to go.  Up the stairs I went again, and told the guy (in pointing motions) I wanted a seat.  Light bulb! Oh, stupid American, just sit anywhere (no, he didn't say that but I'm sure he thought it).  My ability to order food was just about as pathetic.  The menu was in French (duh) and so I opted for the easy option - I'll have the special (that way, I could point).  Note to self - never ask for the special when you have no idea what it is.  It was a strange fish mashed potato with a slice of something the size of a sardine on top.  And when in Rome... I ate it all.  Cutting the fish thing into 3 pieces, the first bite awful, the second bite caused and intense gag, and the third bite - well, I'm surprised I didn't throw up in that cafe right there!  It was one of the worst meals I've eaten, so much for French food.

What will happen next?  Will I lose my lunch and wish I'd saved that bathroom token?  Will I retreat to my room for a nap?  Do I even survive!?!

Just hang loose,

Just have fun,

Sitting on the beach

Lying in the sun.

Don't try to fight it cause it ain't no use!

Cause when you're in Kauai

You just hang loose!

Ok, so that probably means nothing to anyone other than me or my family, but that's what I was thinking the plane ride over.  Since the last time I was there was Christmas in... the 90s with all the Ditgen's.  And my lovely aunt and uncle taught us lil' girls this song.  And finally, almost 20 years later, I was headed there again.  This time alone, for a much shorter time and thankfully without 11 inches of rain.

Friday afternoon I was like a kid waiting to go to Disneyland.  I was ready for some sunshine and time away from work and normal life.  I'd been convinced to rent a car (definitely recommended) and was loaned a guidebook that lead me to the beach you see above.  A complimentary mai-tai, and I was good to go!

I arrived late Friday night...after getting my car and directions to my hotel, off I went...to the wrong hotel.  I pulled up thinking, wow, this place actually looks pretty nice.  And after a bit of a wait in line to check in, I get to the desk agent who promptly tells me that my hotel is another 8 miles down the road... fantastic!  Ha, I finally get to my hotel (its around 8:40 by now), and felt like I'd walked into a completely different world... the Aston Kauai is not what you'd call "luxury", but it was clean and it would do.

I opted for the cheaper garden view, and noted a lovely patch of automobiles out my window.  Huh, didn't know they were in season!  But I was top floor and there were vaulted ceilings, so it redeemed itself slightly.  Well, by the time I got changed and adjusted it was after 9.  I guess Cinderella's coach turns into a pumpkin here at 9 and not 12.  No food was served in the bar, and not much was open close by.  My waiter kindly offered me a salad and I had a gin & tonic (very tropical, I know).

Saturday morning, I found a great cafe on my way to the Waimea Canyon and had a fantastic pancake at the Tip Top cafe.  I left there (after being the lonely single person at a 4-top table) and drove out to the canyon.  

It was a pretty great morning for it, slightly overcast, just warm enough.  And the canyon was beautiful (but a little much when you only have a day in Kauai).  I drove around, flipping through radio stations, trying not to bottom out my little Nissan Versa in the myriad of potholes, enjoying getting out at the few checkpoints and running into uber friendly Hawaiians (well, really just one lady).

And of course, since food is the most important part of a vacation, I HAD to get me some Shave Ice!  After many insights into the "best spot", I took the Kauai guidebook's advice and headed to Jo-Jo's.  What I ordered was a tad odd... not a big fan of chewy cubes or long stringy coconut pieces, but overall, it hit the spot.

On I drove, having to make a stop back at the hotel to grab the right credit card, more cash, and hopefully my camera (which again, I forgot, thus, all the pictures you see were taken by my iPhone, good thing it takes decent shots, right?).

All I wanted was a beach... so I drove north to get to one... I wasn't super thrilled with what I picked, but there was sand and water... so I stayed for awhile and then moved on to find the perfect, secluded beach (the pic at the top). MUCH better! And despite the steep trail, I made it down and back up injury free :)

And doesn't it always stand to reason that the moment you determine you're gonna just lay there on your hotel towel (yes, I snuck it out :) hehe) and you decide you don't want lines on your back... that someone decides to come talk to you?!  So there you  lay, top untied, and you know it won't be easy to retie it with someone watching, so instead, you lay there face-down hoping that you don't accidentally raise up too much and praying that the conversation with this nice gentleman does not last forever. Well, that is exactly what happened to me... but I DID glean great information - George Clooney was currently filming on the island... mmm :)  How else can a tropical island get any better?  Put 2 of former world's sexiest men alive on it (Johnny Depp was filming there as well)!  Sadly, I did not run into anyone famous.

After sun bathing (and of course, you know that as soon as the dude walked away, I retied my top, I was not getting myself into THAT predicament again!), I went to my car to perform a quick change and headed to the Princeville Hotel.  

I walked in, still trying to shake the last remnants of sand onto their super polished floor, and found a comfy chair to watch the sun slowly descend while sipping on a fantastic pineapple mojito. And I left just in time to see the sun set outside. 

At this point, I'm at a cross-roads.  I want to go see Hanalei, but its getting late, I need both dinner and gas (I'd wanted Costco gas, but well, people on the North Shore don't seem to venture south much and didn't know how late Costco was open...grrr).  After some indecision, I decided to head back south - I was NOT going to miss having dinner 2 nights in a row, and it was 7 by the time I was leaving... yikes, I was going to be pushing it - AGAIN!  I stopped at "home" to change, and oh yeah, my phone ran out of juice on my way back - awesome!  So I let it charge for a whole 10 min before heading out the door to head to Duke's (what I had read was a good place for food).  And after some circling around trying to figure out how to get there - the map and the iPhone were not super helpful since it was IN the hotel (the parking attendant was not helpful either).  I was stressing a little getting there, it was getting closer to 9 when food seemed to magically disappear.

Sigh, I found it... and a seat at the bar between a couple dudes (imagine that). And I also found out where all the people around Kauai hide!  I was beginning to think no one was even UP past 9!  Of course, it turned into a later night than I wanted, but I had a great time.

The flight out the next day worked as well (even down to the part where I was given the window seat, and not the middle seat between 2 large people... sitting next to them ok, between, well, I'm not Wan, I don't like that "cozy" feeling).  I wished I'd stayed 1 more day, and that I'd just laid on the beach all day Saturday, but there's always next time right?  (plus, you get strange looks from people when you tell them you're just there for the day ;-))

Aloha!