My Current Life

I admit, I am still fairly untethered after our move last summer. The kids have settled in and made friends, which is really what counts. But me? Still looking for community. I’m not the me I was a year ago. I’m kelp in the ocean. I’m a milkweed seed in the breeze. I’m…I don’t even know. I’m alone. I sense I’m gonna be alone for a long, long time.

I sort of wish we hadn’t left the city, though we had to.

I’ve started mountain biking again, and I am getting to know one group I regularly ride with. I had high hopes for a women’s mountain biking group that formed last fall, but it’s kind of fallen apart. Meanwhile I’m riding with what seems to be a bunch of middle-aged men (they’re really nice and welcoming and don’t hit on me, so that’s awesome) and occasional women every week, so there’s that.

Recently I found an old notebook with notes from an event or conference I attended; I forget which, but one line I’d written said, “Find your community.” I think this was a Ming Tsai (the chef) event, because there was also something about peeling ginger with a spoon and that was definitely Ming.

It’s been hard to find my community, and I’ve gotten much more used to being alone. It doesn’t freak me out as much, going days without really interacting in real life with other humans. And sure, it helps that I’m now working onsite and therefore at least see other people all day. But I’m alone. I’m probably the most alone I’ve ever been in my life.

Hi, my name is Alone.
I’m OK with it, mostly.

Most of my old social life revolved around running. I can’t run much now. And the running-with-my-new-town-running-group has not worked out so well. I can only join their weekly runs every other week.

Dating life? Really, you think I’m going to go there? I’m not. Sorry. Let it be said: I am quirky (also known as “weird”), boring, have an unfriendly schedule, and want to spend at least one of my two free weeknights mountain biking. So…the dating pool is small.

But hey, fun fact: I’m in a foodie group somewhere on social media, and it’s a wonderful community. Funny and weird and into food and we also all have to meal–plan thanks to children and life, so…And it makes me realize I end up giving the few people I’ve dated a food nickname, based on some food-related incident with them.

So. My life. My radishes bolted, my lettuces are rich and excessive (why so much fucking lettuce, whyyyyyy), my cucumbers all sprouted blossoms overnight, my tomatoes look tired, my strawberries are almost dead…

…and my whole inherited cottage garden situation has gone from “enchanting” to “holy shit, that needs to be edged and weeded and mulched and is that a weed or will it bloom???” Something I thought was a weed is gooseberries. Gooseberries. It’s by sheer luck I didn’t chop it.

Ok, so my full name is I’m Alone and I Don’t Know What Is In My Garden.

See why I’m alone? Doesn’t it all make more sense now?





A Touch of Melancholy: My Baby Turns 10

Never before have I started crying in the baking aisle of Market Basket, I think, filling my arms with different colored writing icings and birthday candles and regular icing (because people, let’s face it, Ms. DIY is not going to have time to whip up several colors of icing in the morning to decorate the giant birthday cookie, and no one will care if the few dollops of fancy decoration don’t taste homemade, right?). Tomorrow my firstborn turns 10, and for the very first birthday of his ever, I will not be with him to start his day.

Yeah, thankfully I will get to pick him up from school and have dinner with him and go to his orchestra concert, so there’s that.

But we’re both morning people, and tomorrow morning, he’ll be without me.

I know his dad will get up and they’ll do something fun, go biking in the woods or go out to breakfast or something. He’ll be very happy. But I won’t see my baby, age 10, first thing.

I was feeling pretty OK about M’s birthday tomorrow. We were all cheerful when I dropped them off at school this morning. I don’t know why I got sad tonight; probably because I won’t see him until tomorrow afternoon, and it seems like such a special day. And yes, to get sappy, ten years ago tonight I was refusing to accept the fact that I was in labor, because although I’d been pregnant for more than nine months and my baby was well overdue and my water had broken hours earlier, I was still not entirely ready to accept the massive life change that was about to happen to me and sort of thought that as long as I didn’t give birth, I could maintain the status quo.

Or something.

My scrawny little overdue scrap of a newborn has become…well, he’s still pretty lean, but tall (thanks, grandfathers on both sides!) and smart and kind and has a pretty spectacular sense of humor and can’t stop reading, and it’s so great to see him run on the soccer field and you should see him ski glades, and I love how he shows affection to me and his brother in a way that doesn’t openly show affection but is pretty damn clear.

He’s low-key. He keeps his feelings close. He feels things deeply. He’s kind, and responsible, and caring, and he’s happy to join me in making up silly songs for and about the kitties.

And so ultimately this is a birthday letter to my beloved firstborn. M., child, I love you more than you could ever know. Happy birthday, kid. Tomorrow’s gonna be great, and your party on Sunday is gonna be great, and you know what? YOU’RE great, and you are much loved.

Keep being you. And let’s keep singing to the kitties. They love it.

Big Apple Circus Review

It’s here, it’s here! The circus is here!

We have long been fans of the Big Apple Circus and were excited when it came back to Boston. Well, Somerville now. This year it is at Assembly Row, so not only is there plenty of parking, but it is also T-accessible. It was cold and sleety the day we went (you know, mid-April in New England). Our seats were fairly close to the ring.

The ringmaster, Ty McFarlan, was sparkly and commanding, and the clown schtick seemed to have a bigger role this year. My kids really get a kick out of the clown routines.

Elayne Kramer’s contortions were stunning.


The trapeze artists were a little nerve-wracking to watch. I thought they were going to hit the tent ceiling or the platform. In fact, one catch was not made, if you will, and the flyer fell gracefully to the net. It was exciting, but we wished the trapeze act had gone on longer.

There were amazing feats of balance and juggling, and the Anastasini Brothers did not fail to entertain in their icarian act, as always.

The Wallendas came out on the high wire, Nik cycling across as his wife hung below by her teeth (I kid you not). They successfully performed their 7-person pyramid, no easy feat, which required a massive amount of intricate coordination and communication to set up, get across the wire, and dismount.

In all, it’s a great two hours of daring feats and entertainment.


The Big Apple Circus is performing at Assembly Row, Somerville, through May 13. Tickets are available through Ticketmaster.

It’s Big Apple Circus Time Again! #giveaway

It’s been a few years since we have seen the Big Apple Circus, and my kids have been asking (for most of that time) when we can go see it again.

Well, kids, the circus is coming to town! The Big Apple Circus returns to the Boston area, playing under the Big Top at Assembly Row in Somerville, April 7 – May 6.

Here’s a video of some of the exciting things you can see the performers do (click the link to see the video).

And one of my lucky readers has a chance to win 4 tickets to the Sunday, April 8 at 4:00 pm. show. 

About this year’s season:

The 40th anniversary season program features the famous seven-person pyramid on the high wire with Nik Wallenda and TheFabulous Wallendas and the daring quadruple somersault attempted on the trapeze by The Flying Tunizianis – the first time in circus history that both legendary feats are performed under the same big topThe record-setting acts are joined by Dandino & Luciana, a dynamic duo who combine speed, acrobatics and daredevil grace on rollerskates; award-winning contortionist Elayne Kramer; master juggler Gamal GarciaJan Damm on the Rola Bola; acclaimed Risley acrobats The Anastasini Brothers (who broke the World Record for Most Flips on November 9, 2017); Ringmaster Ty McFarlan; and circus trainer & presenter Jenny Vidbel, who performs in the ring with 16 horses and ponies, as well as six rescue dogs.

These people have MUCH better balance than I do.

Why else is the Big Apple Circus so wonderful? From their press release:

Outside of the ring, BIG APPLE CIRCUS continues to honor the essential and iconic characteristics that have set it apart for the past four decades, with multiple community outreach programs and a vital no-wild-animals policy.  Circus of the Senses, which will take place on Wednesday, April 11 at 11:00 am, offers specially enhanced experiences for audiences who are deaf, blind, deaf/blind, visually impaired, or have cognitive or developmental challenges. The special performances include ASL interpretation, live audio description, pre- and post-show touch experiences, and a Braille program book. On Sunday, April 8 at 12:00 pmBig Apple Circus Embraces Autism, a sensory-friendly performance for autistic audience members, will feature lowered light and sound levels, a descriptive social story, and a professionally staffed “calming center” that can be accessed at any point during the show.

What’s not to love?


    • It’s easy to enter. Winner will be selected and notified by 10 a.m. EST on April 2, 2018. Winner has 24 hours to respond to the notification; if winner does not confirm within 24 hours, another winner will be selected. Tickets can be picked up at the performance.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Discount Codes: Save 25% on all Opening Week Performances,  April 7th through April 13th.

  • If you don’t win this giveaway, or you want to see the show a different day or time, I have discount codes for you!
  • Use Offer Code FAMILY25 when purchasing at Ticketmaster; go to and click Buy Tickets.
  • Tickets are now on sale at Ticketmaster or at for all Boston performances.

Key Details for the BIG APPLE CIRCUS at Assembly Row, Somerville, MA:

  • Performances run Saturday, April 7 through Sunday, May 6, 2018.
  • Playing under the Big Top at Assembly Row, off Grand Union Blvd., Somerville, MA
  • Free Parking for 3 Hours is available on-site at Assembly Row.
  • Assembly Row is accessible via the Orange Line – Assembly stop.
  • For tickets, visit, or call tel: (800) 745-3000.
  • Ticket prices begin at $25; early bird pricing is available through March 12th.
  • For Groups of 10 or More: (212) 257-2330 or

It’s Not About My Body

So recently I wrote about how I felt really fat and gross and out of shape and seeing a picture of myself ruined my night.

Well. The night before that, I’d gotten very little sleep, and everything was so off. After I wrote that post, I got a decent amount of sleep and felt normal the next day, and I liked myself again.

Yeah, it’s that fragile. Sleep is the culprit. Not the scale or my jeans or a bad pic. It’s about sleep, and while I rarely get enough, the night before that post I’d gotten almost none, somehow.

It really is not good for my head.

It felt great to be on firm footing again, after some sleep, and to realize I’m totally OK with my body. And I ended up not cutting carbs (because I don’t believe in cutting an entire macronutrient), and I ended up not using a calorie-counting app a running friend recommended, because I had an eating disorder as a teen and if I started counting calories again I could potentially spiral right into a hole.

Eating disorder as a teen. Shocking, right? Maybe in some ways it never leaves you. I eat what I want now, and many days I don’t exercise, and–unless I don’t get enough sleep such that it kicks off a bit of body dysmorphia–I’m OK with the condition my body is in right now. I can’t train hard these days. I can’t run a lot right now. I’m privileged enough to eat well and exercise sometimes, but I have to take care of my children, do well at my job, and pay my bills. Those are MUCH bigger priorities.

I have watched my thighs grow bigger and squishier without flinching, until I lost a night of sleep (and wore ill-fitting jeans), and that totally wrecked my perspective.

My body is fine. It looks great. I look good. I am definitely not as fast and can’t run as long as I used to, of course. That’s a little hard to accept, but it’s OK.

Chicken Dreams

the 2018 Chicken Flyer from the feed store

Do you see what I see? Decision day approaches fast. I want Rhode Island Reds, because that’s the breed we had when I was a kid, and they seem fairly smart and friendly (as far as chickens go).

But this will be our first summer in this house, and I have so much to learn about all the stuff already planted here (former owners were wise and inspired gardeners, creating a beautiful space where things bloom as late as December and as early as this week), and we’re putting in raised beds for a vegetable garden, my first.

That will keep us busy.

Chickens were planned for 2019. As in, I know we want chickens, and I know where I can put the coop, but I didn’t want to take them on just yet. First I’d have to clear out the brush pile that came with the property (next to the two compost bins that were also here, fortunately). And build or buy a coop. I found a decent one I can buy from Tractor Supply (yep, really) that fits my budget. My chicken budget.

People, I don’t have a chicken budget.

Anyway, thanks to a neighbor’s information-seeking Facebook post about backyard chickens, I have so many links to check out, and I’ve been reading up on it and looking at coops and breed hardiness. Three or four chickens wouldn’t be that hard to manage, right? Plus then we’d have a nice supply of fertilizer for the garden, and fresh eggs, and the hens could roam in the yard (supervised, of course) eating bugs.

OK. I have until April 19 to either make it happen or decide to let it go until next year.

Should I go for it? Is this year the year we should get chickens?

Turning the Tide

Here’s what’s up: Despite what I’d thought, the last two years took a toll on me. And last August, for sure, when the kids’ dad and I moved (separately) half an hour west of where we used to live, but to different towns, so the kids had to change schools and move to two new towns and join a new soccer team and everything, it fully kicked our asses.

Anyway, we’re all settling out. The kids are doing well, making friends and having playdates and activities.

And I’m starting to relax a little, turning my attention to an actually more mindful assessment of how I’m doing (and why) instead of being in crisis mode about how the kids are doing.

I still don’t have enough time to really train for a solid race or anything. But I’m trying to fight back against the feeling of inherent defeat (based on schedule), and I thought I was beginning to work hard again, fitness-wise. Goodbye, squishiness.

I have low expectations of myself this year, in terms of races. I had higher expectations of myself in the past, which made sense, when I could run a lot. I can’t now, and frankly, making a wage that keeps us afloat is more of a priority. I might have to take an evening/every-other-weekend gig (do such things exist?).

Plus I’m trying to keep my house clean. And I am dipping my toe into online dating, which is generally a horrorshow.

But people, I have porked out. I knew I was getting bigger, but my workout clothes still fit, and I’ve been working out when I can (mostly strength training/Tabata stuff, because I’m feeling time-stressed lately, like I cannot take the time for a good relaxed run).

I went out last night (to an axe-throwing event, to which I was invited for social-media-influencer reasons). It was hard to get dressed for. My jeans don’t really fit anymore. I’d like to think it’s because I’ve been doing so many squats and lunges that my quads and glutes are just too big, but I don’t think that’s quite it. So I squeezed myself into my “loose” jeans, which are now my “only jeans I can still squeeze into” jeans.

I added a belt (hey, when did that belt get so short?), black t-shirt, and necklace, plus my favorite boots.

I was uncomfortable all evening, like my clothes didn’t fit right. Then my friend took a video of me throwing axes and I looked at it and felt like shit. I looked so chubby and awful and porky.


I feel gross. So much self-loathing was churned up by this.

So I’ve decided to do something about it. Not just work out more, but cut out the wine, cut carbs, whatever. Plus I joined a DietBet, which I have done before. Basically, you pay $20 (or whatever amount) and everyone in the “game” puts in that amount, and you have four weeks to lose 4% of your weight, then you split the pot with whoever else also lost that amount. So it’s a good motivation to lose it.

When I’ve done this in the past (maybe six years ago), I didn’t take the healthiest approach. I think nothing much changed about me until I had a week left, then I googled a Cosmo article about losing weight fast, then I basically lived on water for three days or something, then fasted completely (no water, even) for 12 hours, then did my final (successful) weigh-in without passing out somehow.

This will not be my approach this time. I just need to be more mindful about food and exercise.

Also, this is weird, but after all that self-loathing last night, I did the mandatory full-body photo (has to be submitted to DietBet, plus a photo of the scale with my weight and the word they send me for proof) and guess what? 

I don’t think I look terrible here! I don’t think I look like a pudgy chick squeezed into jeans. I think I look like a strong person (in a bathroom crammed with litter boxes and a hamster cage, sure).

So maybe my jeans are the actual problem, not my body.

In any case, it’s time to drop some of my adjusting-to-our-new-life weight and feel like I am at one with my body again.

Wish me luck. Wish me luck in getting fit, and wish me luck in learning to love myself, which is actually the real problem here.

Thanks for reading (*blows dust off mike* does anyone still read this thing?).

Sick Days

I get up, because there’s not much else to do.

On one side of me is my older son, hot with fever; on my other side is my younger son, coughing up a storm. At my head is the alpha cat, so alpha–“I will lie here, where I want to, and you will rest your head on me and I will lick your chin and you will pet me, but not too much.” Yes, sir. Whatever you say, 9-pound kitten. He’s still a kitten, but so big that when he clumps down the stairs we sometimes can’t tell if it’s him or my younger boy.

It’s 2:30 a.m. I’d been hoping it was later. I’d like a good night’s sleep. Both kids are sick. The younger one is technically well enough to send to school tomorrow, assuming the school doesn’t mind him coughing all over the place, and the older boy is going to his dad’s.

Today, Wednesday, the plan was to finally get in a full day’s work (and make up for yesterday and Tuesday, when I was caring for sick children and needed a nap myself yesterday to make up for a terrible night of sleep). I have a full-time job but am paid hourly. I get some vacation pay but no sick days or PTO.

Alpha Cat has diarrhea. I don’t know if I should take him to the vet or change his diet to grain-free for a week first. Between my own illness (norovirus? food poisoning?), divorce prep, divorce court, and sick kids, I haven’t put in a full week of work in weeks. Can I take the time to take the cat to the vet?

A full day’s work, finally, plus a hill workout because I am training for a hell of a trail race in early May and am behind in training, then maybe going out to meet a friend.

But it’s 2:30 a.m. and I am wide-awake. I could work, but I don’t feel like it. I crack open a beer my friend stashed in my bag after our amazingly icy ski day on Sunday and read an essay about late-term abortion. I wish women didn’t have to write these things to explain why abortion laws need to change. Not everyone can fly to that one clinic in Colorado when they learn at 20+ weeks that their baby will have a short, horrible, painful life, IF it survives birth. Abortion can be compassionate, you know.

(Here, read this: or this:

The younger child comes down, crouches on the kitchen floor. “Why are you down here?” he asks. It’s now 3:20 a.m.

I offer him honey, tea, ginger ale, water, lemon-honey tea. He wants none of it. He finally agrees to cold water out of my second-favorite coffee mug. I explain I can’t sleep and will be upstairs soon. I lead him back to bed.

As if I can sleep in the middle, between a feverish furnace and someone with a hacking cough, the usual knees and elbows, plus Alpha Kitty on my head. As if I’d rather be anywhere else or sleep alone.

I rub backs, give water from cups with bendy straws, reassure everyone I’ll be up soon.

It is 3:34 a.m. and the coughing has stopped. I can’t hear the moaning from the fevered boy.

Tomorrow Coughy will return to school, because he is technically well enough (hasn’t had a fever all day, hasn’t vomited). I will bring the older boy to his dad’s house. This sounds heartless, yes? Monday was my custody day but the younger child was too sick to go anywhere, so I returned home, got my laptop, and returned to my ex-husband’s house to work there and tend our younger child, because I can work from home and my ex cannot, so I worked from his house so he could go into the office.

I told him I’d bring my own food and coffee and wouldn’t touch his stuff. He offered to make me a pot of coffee, anyway.

By Monday afternoon I told the sick child that I’d carry him to the car wrapped in a fuzzy blanket, we’d get his brother from school, and go back to my house, a 20- to 25-minute drive. This time, he didn’t protest.

I think this is pretty functional co-parenting, right?

It is nearly 4 a.m. now. Alpha Kitty is watching me. I don’t want to climb back into my hot germy bed with all the knees and elbows and people moaning and coughing on me. I don’t know where to sleep. I need to sleep. I don’t want to sleep.






Pro tip: Easy Bedtime for School-Aged Children (Happy Halloween!)

Pro tip for managing the easiest, most fuss-free, no-yell-or-threats bedtime for your school-aged children:

  1. Plan a fast, crappy dinner, such as boxed mac-and-cheese plus/or hot dogs plus steamed broccoli.
  2. Insist everyone put on costumes, including yourself.
  3. Shout that they put the kitties down and get shoes on.
  4. Put a bin of candy on your porch with a sign saying “Please take just one.”
  5. At dusk/just after dinner, go outside.
  6. Wander around the neighborhood having your kids ring doorbells for almost two hours, with strangers giving them candy for their efforts.
  7. Allow the children to each eat exactly two things while walking around.
  8. Stop at your new friend’s house and accept a beer before realizing your children ONLY want to be walking around, getting candy from strangers. Accept to-go cup from extremely gracious new friend.
  9. Make your way home, still with your kids ringing/knocking/gathering candy.
  10. Arrive home at the time your children are usually bathed/brushed/homework done/lunches packed/in bed.
  11. Let them spread candy all over the living room floor and sort it into piles. Help with sorting.
  12. Agree to let them each choose two things to eat tonight, plus one to put into lunchbox for tomorrow.
  13. Agree that three things tonight is ok. They can each have three candy-things tonight.
  14. When someone asks if they can watch a show–at this point 17 unbrushed minutes past bedtime–agree to it, shocking them.
  15. When show ends, insists on the usual floss/brush/fluoride rinse.
  16. Read for only 10 minutes instead of the usual 20 or 25.
  17. Snuggle each kid for only 1:30 each instead of of big battles about it.
  18. Go downstairs and hear nothing from either kid for the rest of the night.


Back on my mat, where I belong. And where I cry, apparently.

I’ve been hesitant to find a new yoga studio in my new town/area because I have practiced in the same studio for the past 10 years, and I love it. I’ve also practiced in a few other studios and was never fully comfortable. I was OK with the other studios/classes, but they had a very different feel — different order of things, poses that didn’t flow together, a different vibe. They’ve been good studios/classes, but they weren’t MINE. They didn’t feel like the place that I knew.

I loved my yoga studio so much that I wanted to do their teacher training (in terms of money and schedule, this fall is not the time for me to start my yoga teacher training, but I know I want to do my eventual teacher training with them). O2 is still the place for me.

So today I looked around for local studios and found one that had classes today. I looked up the instructor. She had done her teacher training with my old yoga studio! And so had half of the other teachers.

I went to the 4:30 Vinyasa class. I haven’t practiced in a few months. I’ve been holding so much in for the past year and a half, which I am JUST starting to realize.

Even before the instructor arrived, when I was already on my mat, I felt at home. Like I was unquestionably in the right place.

And then Saundra walked in, and the class was more than a little different that my old studio, in some ways, but it was so, so familiar and something broke open in me and I started to cry. I tried to focus on my breathing while tears flowed and my nose ran, and it was a pretty massive emotional release. This went on for a while, me crying while moving through the various poses, occasionally grabbing my towel to wipe my face or blow my nose.

I couldn’t stop it, and I felt no need to hide it.

I kept on breathing and listening and flowing, and the emotions eventually subsided. It really felt like something had been unlocked. Something I had no control over. Like I have locked up so much over the past year and here on my mat I could finally let it out.

Let it out I did. It didn’t hurt. It just felt like stuff needed to get out from behind the wall it had been trapped behind, and there was nothing I could do to stop it. Do you know that feeling? When all the stuff you’ve been holding back everywhere, including to yourself, to keep things in control, just bursts out from behind the dam, and there’s nothing you can do? And you don’t feel sad or anything but just relieved for the release and a little surprised and start to recognize how much you haven’t actually acknowledged or processed?

Oh. Sorry. Let’s get back to me on my mat. Sometimes people crying makes other people uncomfortable, even if the crying person is OK with the in-public crying and glad for the release. Let’s normalize public crying.

And let’s reach out to each other more.

* * * * *

So, weirdly, in a connected story — I’ve had back/hip problems lately, including both of my SI joints locking up so tightly and weirdly that I was crooked and my left ilium was slightly sticking out the wrong way.

Yeah. In case you wonder why I haven’t been running.

So I went to see my beloved chiropractor of the past nine years, and she tried to release my SI joints, and I totally burst into tears, surprising both of us.

It didn’t hurt. Nope. Her thought is that I hold all my stress and pain in my hips. I know that sounds hokey. But. Any time I’ve done any kind of hip release (ask me about the Yin Yoga class I did at Kripalu), I’ve had a release. It’s not hokey: Google “hip release emotion” and you’ll find many such articles like this one. Seriously, like Shakira, my hips don’t lie.

Oh and also my chiro couldn’t unlock it that first time. I had a lot going on, emotionally.

* * * *

Then I was smiling and feeling good in tonight’s class, ferociously sure, more than I’ve ever been sure of anything, that being on my mat is exactly where I need to be right now. This is the space I need more than ever. And yoga teacher training is for sure in my future, when I have the money and the schedule works out.

And until then, spending as much time on my mat as possible with this yoga community is exactly what I need. And in this space I can grow and stretch and cry and release and be safe.

Near the end of class I had another crying jag, this one not lasting as long (but seriously, if you’re going to play “Hallelujah” you have to expect some tears from someone). By the end of class, I was fully calm and peaceful and feeling more like myself than I have in so long. More in touch. More able to let go. I’ve kept up a public front for the last long while, on absolutely every front, and it had ended up extending to me — like I haven’t been honest or in touch with myself for too long.

When I thanked the instructor as I was leaving the yoga studio, she asked my name. Another instructor at the studio, who’d been in the class also, was next to her.

I introduced myself. Then I added, “I just moved to the area. I used to practice at O2.”

They both visibly reacted. “Get out of here!” Saundra exclaimed. “That’s where I did my training!”

“Yeah, that’s why I’m here,” I said. “I looked you up. And knew this was where I wanted to be.”

They both smiled at me.

“I moved here in August, but I wanted to connect to the right studio. I’ve found it.”

They took this in.

“Welcome,” Saundra said. The other instructor grinned, and I can’t wait to work with her, too.

I’ve found my new yoga studio. I feel calm just envisioning it. I’m going again tomorrow.

This is part of how I’m rebuilding me.