Happy Holidays!

Howdy howdy! We are back from home sweet Pennsylvania for about 20 hours, and back on the road tomorrow to be with Jeff’s family in Florida through New Year’s. 

I hope everyone had the happiest, merriest of Christmases and Hanukkahs!

See you in Two Thousand Twelve…

(Holy Moly!)

Photo Dump: Yoga School Edition!

Our super talented co-yogi Cheri is also a fledgling photographer and was sort of our official historian throughout teacher training.  Because she is super awesome she shared all these with us and I am going to post some highlights.  I feel awkward posting a bunch of pictures of myself but it’s my blog and I’ll _____ if I want to.  The blank in this instance being “post gratuitous Yoga pictures.”  Kind of a critical piece of my biography at this point.  Plus I think people I know are probably wondering what we did all that time…

Our very first night! Remember I said it felt like yesterday!? The tans remind me it was a whiiiile ago…

Snazzy Down Dog assists…

Guest Instructor Jamie analyzed our stances/posture/gait… so fascinating!

 

Snazzy plank pyramids! Spotting is our intrepid teacher and Guru, Padma… My only hope is that someday I will have deltoids like hers

Sugar Canes (thanks Jenn!)

Y’all we even learned Tai Chi! So cool…

Partner Yoga day was so cool… (with guest apperance by Mr. Padma!)

Guest Instructor Indeira came all the way from her home in Costa Rica where she runs a Yoga retreat center (be jealous!!)

In November we went off to rural Virginia for a weekend retreat…

One morning we were sent separate ways on the “grounds” for individual walking meditations… it was so gorgeous and relaxing and a memorable moment of the experience.  I stood watching a mom and baby deer for like 20 minutes.  Oh gawd did I really just say that? No I really did, but I’d like to think it didn’t come across as that idyllic and sappy in real life?!

See that sky!?

We made energy balls…

My poor husband started dating a Republican campaign staffer six years ago, and now has on his hands a nutbag wifey who makes energy balls, reads Deepak Chopra, and has public freak outs in the produce aisle about pesticides.  It’s kinda funny. 

This was the morning we started at 6:00 and watched the sun rise… Adore this shot!

And we graduated!

Our group shot again (Cheri’s came out far superior to the Droid’s)

This Sort of Day/Week…

Still powering through with as much holiday cheer as I can muster but holy hambone I need a break.  I do have a nice glorious 12 day one coming up, but if I don’t get caught up at work in the next 2 days, I’ll just worry about that the whole time…

Oh and I’ve procured three (3) gifts so far.  So there’s that.  Trying to remind myself of this reflection…  

Christmas is not stressful.  Christmas is holy.  People are stressful.  I am stressful. 

Breathe…

11 Reasons I Want to Stab My Dentist

 Look, I realize this is not groundbreaking news here.  And saying “Wow the dentist is awful” is pretty much the observational equivalent of “Breaking: Better Places to Spend Your Time than the DMV.”  Whatever.  I just went this week and every time I set foot in that place, my hatred is re-birthed with a new fervor. 

 

The Reminder Postcard.  It’s the end of the long day.  You’ve arrived home and are tending to the mail.  Oh how nice of her to send a card! Oooh People magazine! 

 

OMG WTF is this!?!?

 

 

Oh hahahahahahaha aren’t you dear I HATE YOU.

 

Wha…. Whuh…. how is this possible?! I was just there…. LIKE….. 8 weeks ago!?!?  I mean, just yesterday I was sitting there in the chair, penning my own damning reminder card, knowing I was the furthest possible amount of days away from my next trip.  

 

BS Cancellation Policies.  From there, the dread builds until the day has arrived.  And if you’re like me, you start to cycle through the stages of grief, usually getting hung up at “bargaining” and trying to rationalize an excuse out of it.  On the day of my appointment this week, I made the most excellent decision of enjoying some office holiday awesomeness in the form of Harry and David’s Moose Munch.  Is there ANYTHING yummier than that filth? NO.  Except then I was like Oh CRAP I’m supposed to be at the friggin’ dentist later today. OH I KNOW I’LL CANCEL IT.  Not like I can walk into the dentist all “Oh hi….Don’t mind this layer of caramel on my molars! This is totally a one time thing and not indicative of my daily habits at ALL.”

 

Me: Umm hi.  I have an appointment later? If I cancel now will I get char…

Evil Dental Office: Yes.

Me: Oh.  OK.  Umm, see you later than I guess.

  

Coming Clean About Lackluster Dental Habits.  Does your dentist do this? First the hygienist grills me my relationship with my teeth and asks me how many times I floss during the week. 

 

“Well… some weeks I floss, like, every day! Other weeks, umm, less than that.  And by less I mean more like zero.” 

 

“OK.  We’ll say 3 on average then.  It says here you were flossing 5-6 times a week last time you were here.”

 

“It’s possible that was an exaggeration of the truth.” (Note to self: Keep better track of lies.)

 

“OK.  How about fluoride?”

 

“Pass?” 

 

The Television. Unless I am missing the “Induced Coma” channel, there is no possible television programming that could possibly make me feel any better about what’s happening.  Plus, it introduces another element of pressure to choose something socially acceptable.  I’m not sure what normal people watch, but if I’m at home by myself I’m watching Big Cat Diary or Secretly Pregnant or men’s gymnastics.  Other people need not know this.

 

The Stabby Ice Pick Device Thing.  This is THE PINNACLE of dental awfulness.  The cleaning is underway and I’m being stabbed with a pointed object, flinching and whimpering and gazing up at my masked hygienist with desperate, pleading eyes.  ”Is that sensitive there?” she says.  SENSITIVE? Lady we moved from “sensitive” to “OMFG PLEASE DESIST” like 8 teeth ago.   

 

X-Rays.  Correction.  These are the pinnacle of dental awfulness.  Hate.  Going in the thing looks like a harmless little plastic circle but in reality feels like you’re gumming a jungle machete.  And then the hygienist sort of ambles over to the button on the wall to take the picture and I’m like “Move, woman… MOVE!” And does your dentist have this? Mine is all high-tech and the images flash right on a screen on the wall.  So I’m sitting there praying for nice, clear images of my poor teeth yet half expecting…

 

Which brings me to…

 

X-Ray Re-Dos.  Correction #2.  This is the worst  part.  This is reasons I want to impale the dentist numbers 1 through infinity.

 

Flouride.  After about 8 seconds my gag reflex is on Tom Ridge Threat Code Red.  The stuff actually doesn’t taste that bad, it’s just the pressure of sitting there for sixty seconds trying not to gag and spew it all over yourself, or worse, swallow it after being warned by the hygienist to “Whatever you do DO NOT SWALLOW THIS.”  Can someone tell me what happens if you ingest flouride? If I had to guess I’d say it was certain and instantaneous death.  This is what I try to remind myself of when I’m sweating bullets at second 49 and starting to see the face of God.

 

Desperate Longing for the Water Hose.  The only thing that gets me through the horror of the stabbing, the disgusting “polishing,” and the X-Rays is the thought of the sweet succour of the water hose.  And its equally soothing partner, the yin to its yang, the sultan of suction, ladies and gentlemen give it up for your friend and mine, MR. THIRSTY.  At my dentist, after the flouride they hand Mr. Thirsty right over to me and tell me to suck to my heart’s content.  I mouth that thing with an enthusiasm that can only be likened to the famous Virgin Diaries first kiss:

 

 

Encore Appearance from the Stabby Ice Pick Device Thing.  The hygienist is just giving you a final once-over before turning you over to the dentist and she’s all “Oh… what’s… Is that…. a micron of Moose Munch I still see on your right lateral incisor? Here… lemme just…. get that for you quick…” 

 

Condescending Douchebag Dentist.  Seriously I hate mine.  This week he told me he was putting 4 molars on the “cavity watch list” and then followed up with these condescending gems: “I’m trying to work with you here, but you have to work back.” And “You don’t have to floss every day, only days when you chew something.”  Well is that a fact? Come to think of it, an eating disorder would be better than having to come back here.  And sorry that I have a life that doesn’t involve being a fetish-y, tooth-obsessed, dentist weirdo like you.  Whatevs.  Turd.  We’re done here for 6 months.  Suck my tartar, dude.   

Holy Crap We’re Yoga Teachers!

We graduated today!

It seems like just yesterday it was August and I was bounding off to our first class, and now here we are 200 hours later- official RYTs! (Registered Yoga Teachers… wow).  And as noted on facebook, I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that 84% of my excitement here is that it rhymes with PYT.  Kidding.  Ish.  I’m ready to see what’s next, but will miss seeing these chicas all weekend every weekend!

And if you’re interested in Yoga instruction for your next bridal, corporate, or private event, please inquire within!

Important PSAs: Did everyone catch this full hour documentary on the world’s only orphanage for baby sloths? No? Drop what  you’re doing.  

And how about this video of a driverless golf cart gone bezerk at a football game? Again, you are welcome!

Reason #847 the National Zoo is Awesome

Christmas lights in the likeness of Naked Mole Rats!

Need I say more!?

The Saddest Christmas Tree That Ever Was

People, I had grand plans for a Christmas tree this year… actually I do every year… but with all the annual stresses of gifts, travel, baking, and the juggernaut of Work Christmas, I usually just prefer have one less thing to worry about.  I’ve also come to the conclusion that “Because Pinterest says I should?” is not an acceptable justification for expending time or money.  Which brings me to the second reason that I vetoed my tree plans, that I had already blown any non-gift budget we had on Tiny Prints holiday cards.  They rendered me helpless with their adorableness, OKAY?! It could not be helped…

Obviously when we have kidlets this sort of slackitude won’t fly, but for now I’ll enjoy being able to get away with it.  And thus, with the help of some Rite Aid brand $3.99 lights, our Natal Mahogany went from zero to TANNENBAUM, BEYOTCH!

Uhhhh I Taught a Yoga Class

Let’s talk about my first Yoga class over the weekend.  My inclination is to not talk about it, but since this bloggles is sort of my life memoirs, my hope is that someday I’ll be happy I swallowed my pride and documented the milestone.  

 

The gist of the story is that… well…. I survived. I thought it would go much better, which we’ll get to, but in the 2 days since I’ve chilled out a lot more and realized that hey, it happened, we did Yoga, people inhaled when I told them to inhale and exhaled when I told them to exhale (which for the most part alternated in a proper way), and I saw a lot of pink sweaty faces gazing back at me in the room, so I know that Yoga did indeed happen.  We savasana-ed, we Om-ed, I left them with a nugget of Sanskrit wisdom, we went home.  It wasn’t just me up there talking gibberish like the Swedish Chef while people confusedly looked on with Pug Head Tilts before I started sobbing and bolted for the exit.  Which I guess would constitute a true train wreck of a first class.  So, I did exceed that metric, which should count as some degree of success for my very first maiden teaching voyage, right!? 

 

Here’s the thing about my existence.  And I’ve talked about this here before, and of course if you know me it comes as no surprise, but generally I run around like headless poultry just trying to keep up with life.  Part of this complex is that I am never giving due attention or preparation to important things, always throwing things together at the last-minute and “winging it.”  And it’s a terrible feeling, all those times in my life where I went into everything from a beam routine to a final exam to a job interview to even the dentist, bracing myself for impending disaster because I once again, with no good excuse, failed to adequately practice/study/research/floss. 

 

But the thing is… it always works out! I always expect COMPLETE failure only to be pleasantly surprised that I stayed on the beam! I got an A! They offered me the job! And “Beautiful teeth… keep doing what you’re doing!” Uhh, you mean only flossing on the 12 days preceding my visits with you? OKAY!

 

I did the opposite and took the time to prepare well for my class.  Mostly because on anything else that I procrastinated on, worst case scenario was that I embarrassed or dis-serviced myself.  That I can deal with, but the thought of letting down a group of people with expectations and valuable time was not acceptable.  So, I carefully crafted it, scripted it, rehearsed it, thought I could do it in my sleep, and had this crazy, rare feeling of being ready and prepared.

 

Whooooooa!

 

So now I had the opposite mentality.  For once I did what all the motivational speakers and life experts say you should do, and I visualized success! Thought positive! Believed in myself! If I always ended up doing OK even when I was unprepared, imagine how well things would go if I actually worked at it!  This was gonna be epic! I was going to be James Van Der Beek leading the West Canaan coyotes to victory! Wars would cease, water would become wine, the blind would see! Humans all around the world would weep at the sheer beauty of…. Sarah Becker’s Yoga class!  

 

Umm, CHEA.  Instead humans were subjected to two triangle poses on the same side.  (Among other assorted blunders).  WHOOPSIE DAISY.  

 

 

So then I felt crushed when I didn’t live up to the perfection I had set myself up for.  Then, my mind just went wackadoo.  Did it only feel terrible because my expectations were so high? Did all those other things just feel successful because my expectations were low? Were my mistakes just garden variety mistakes that any first time teacher would make or indicative of an underlying lack of teaching talent?! Was it truly as awful as I thought or was I being unreasonably difficult on myself? Am I the dunce of my class!? Would I ever work in this town again?!?! Cue hyperventilation. 

 

Again, I’ve realized since that my thoughts weren’t the most rational that had ever paid a visit to my conscience.  I’ve calmed down with the help of a few things….

 

1.  On Sunday morning, so after my ill-fated performance but right before our class reconvened for the first time since, I caught a bit of Forgetting Sarah Marshall which we had from the library. I had watched it earlier in the week but somehow missed an entire scene where they go to a Yoga class!

 

Jason Segal’s head stand schtick CRACKED me up.  I honestly felt like discovering this scene I somehow missed was some sort of small consolation from above.  (Fist bump, God).

 

2.  Over the weekend we also had a guest instructor teaching us, a woman who seriously knows everything about everything about Yoga and bodies.  Like, just a total pro.  She told us that the beginning of her teaching career was a “horrible and terrible” experience and that she was so paralyzed with nervousness that she, today, has literally no memory of those 1-2 years.  Not that I’m delighting in her past misery, but it did comfort me that maybe someday I can look back at how far I’ve come since the day I… you know… put people into triangle twice on the same side.

 

3.  The students did have to fill out little evaluations which we got back.  Our teacher did collect these first so that she could screen out anything over-the-top critical, so I’m HOPING no censoring was required for mine, but whatever either way.  Honestly I was expecting mine to just have skull and crossbones drawn on them.  But, happily, surprisingly, everyone indicated they would be, to varying degrees, receptive to taking class from me again! Everyone with the exception of one crazy yahoo who said “not really,” but then gave me the highest rating for all the other questions.  So, I at least did something right in their minds? I guess?

 

So, anyway, that was a REALLY long-winded way of walking you through my emotional world in the last couple days.  Sorry.  You’re welcome.  I’m glad I told the story

 

Also, because I couldn’t possibly not document this for the record… The playlist!

 

Twilight Serenade, Jason Myles Goss

1963, Rachel Yamagata

Jack Straw, Grateful Dead

Soolaimon, Neil Diamond

Brighter Than the Sun, Colbie Caillat

ET, Katy Perry

I Guess That’s Why They Call it the Blues, Elton John

Fins, Jimmy Buffett

Dog Days Are Over, Florence + The Machine

Love of Our Lives, Indigo Girls

Be Careful, Patty Griffin

Thought I Had Died, The War

 

Phew.  Dear God.  The End.

 

Giveaway Winner!

Lucky number 4 is Rose who made the excellent suggestion of the Mario Lemieux Foundation’s Austin’s Playroom Project.  A Pennsylvania cause no less, love it!  

The Mario Lemieux Foundation raises funds for cancer and neonatal research; their Austin’s Playroom Project “seeks to benefit families and improve the quality of a child’s hospital experience whether as a visitor or patient by establishing cheerful playrooms that are safe, calming and comfortable.”

Thanks everyone for your excellent suggestions, I loved them all! Smooches all around!

What Will Surely be the Highlight of my 2011 Holiday Season

One of my BFFs Kim sent me this tonight and totally made my day.  She is a TA at an educational institution which is probably best left un-named in this context.  As her story goes, she accidentally picked up what appears to be someone’s Christmas shopping list as she retrieved a paper from a communal printer. 

I sympathize with this anonymous author.  Coming up with gift ideas is hard.  Just when you think you’ve thought of the best ever gift for someone, all the sudden 12 freaking months have passed and again you’re feeling the pressure to find something that outperforms the last year’s.   A harrowing cycle.  This person is obviously in the depths of that despair, but instead of stepping up to the challenge, has apparently thrown in the towel and said OH EFF IT YOU’RE ALL GETTING SOCKS AND DOLLAR STORE STUFF. PASS THE EGGNOG.

But OK it is kind of sweet the extent to which she has put thought into her sock purchase plans.  Anja: mismatched sole socks.  Karin: Indian Fiddler socks.  Not sure what those are.  Google isn’t sure what those are so I’ll assume it’s some sort of ethnic-musical-sock-inside-joke we’re not in on.  And cat socks for Brenda.  Not gonna lie, the simple hilarity of the “socks (cat)” note made me chortle out loud as I was reading this at the bus stop. 

And Brenda.  Honey child.  What exactly did YOU do wrong this year that you are getting Tissues!? Tissues! I’m not even sure under what conditions it becomes necessary to make tissues an actual gift for someone.  Honestly the act of typing t-i-s-s-u-e-s on a Christmas list for someone is more committment and exertion than actually procuring them.

Anyhoo.  Kim, please accept the biggest hat tip ever for this most excellent holiday find. 

OK guys… I’ll be back Sunday with the Pay it Forward Giveaway winner! (You still have Friday to enter, keep them coming!) Until then I am on epic Yoga lockdown mode as I teach my first class (HOLY CRAP I KNOW) on Saturday.  And mind you this is a class class.  With the public.  Not the paying public, thankfully, but still the real public that expects things like, you know, coherence.  (Not my strong suit.)  Send me happy vibes please?

Becker OUT…