10/23/2014

Minimal Husbandry

I don't think it's any secret that I am divorced. I take care of everything myself or at least that's what people think. My house is in good order. Nothing is broken or in disrepair. My garden is lovely. My car is well-maintained. My finances are orderly. How do I do all this and still run LoveFifi.com? I couldn't do it without my husbands. That's right, my husbands... plural. Yes, I am indeed divorced. I was married for a very long time to a good man who honestly was best at making a living. He couldn't fix a thing. He didn't know a socket wrench from a screwdriver and had no desire to learn, so I figured out early on that if something broke, it was my job to find someone who could do the repair and not cost a fortune. It was kind of that way with everything. He was very important, so I took care of maintaining our life. I also had a career and a truck load of kids to take care of but I am not complaining. Actually in a weird way, my marriage prepared me for being single and on my own at this time of my life.

Back to my husbands. When you are in charge of a lot of "departments" let's call them, such as when running a household, you have to have a team of people that you can rely on at a moment's notice. I was always on the lookout for honest and talented people who could do the things we couldn't. I asked a lot of questions, nosed around a bit, and before long, I had quite a repertoire of butchers, bakers and candlestick makers who could take care of our needs. It got to the point that I had a killer list of plumbers, electricians, gardeners, handy guys and more who were tested and had my seal of approval. I was Angie's List long before Angie ever thought of it. If somebody I know needed a dependable person to fix or build something, or a good affordable mechanic or a tree trimmer, they would call me. The one thing that I was always most grateful for was that even when these guys got super busy because of my recommendations, they always took care of me and my family immediately.

Then comes 2007. I get a divorce. I buy a place of my own in another neighborhood. I am alone. It's not like I was married to a handyman and went through "fix it" shock as I was now used to finding someone else to do it. It turned out to be a blessing that I was married to the unhandiest man in the universe and it was then that I realized that I held the key to a happy life as a single woman. So once again, as I settled into my new life and my new home, I found talented and reliable guys to take care of the things that I can't do or don't care to do. Once I find someone great, I add them to my list, but this time I don't share them with the world. What I do is take care of them. I always offer coffee, cold drinks and food when one of my wonderful workers is doing something for me. I turn sports on the TV in every room in the house. They like to fix things for me and make me happy just like a husband does. That's what I have been told, but I have never been involved with a man who could fix anything so I wouldn't know for sure. But in apple pie America, that's what I hear goes on in homes.

So I affectionately call these men my husbands. It takes a lot of them doing everything really well to make me happy. No one man could ever come close and it works out well. I have my Handy Man Husband, Pete. He takes his coffee with heavy cream and two sugars. He has a key to my house and if something breaks, I can call him from work and he can fix it when I am not home. Sometimes I don't even see him and whatever it is gets fixed as if by magic. My Gardening Husband, Carlos (black coffee or Coca Cola... I stock both), not only trims, prunes, fertilizes my flowers, he fills up my bird feeders and waters for me when I am out of town. I have a Mechanic Husband, Sandy, who'd really like to be my husband, so I play it a little cooler with him. I don't know how he takes his coffee and I never will. I am just sweet and funny and give him lots of smiles and gratefulness. He has a giant crush on me and calls me personally to let me know when it's time for my car to be serviced. He has rescued me many times and done miracles so I wouldn't be without a vehicle. Believe it or not, I have a Manicure Husband, Kenny. Yep, the person who does my nails is a man. His beautiful wife Eve does my pedicures, so everything is Kosher. I do allow my husbands to have real wives, as long as they treat us both well. I have a Dog Groomer Husband, Jason. He delivers my dogs to me at the house if I need him too. I am his favorite customer because I have brought him a ton of business and he loves my dogs. I have a husband for every task a person has to endure to get things done. I don't know what collective noun you would use to describe my congregation of husbands. Well, it's a gaggle of geese, a pride of lions, a flush of ducks and a pod of whales. A herd of husbands, maybe?

Anyway, I am very well taken care of and I take very good care of my guys. All I need now is a husband husband who can devote his time to loving me, making me laugh, kissing me, hugging me and I will gladly do the same for him. And the good news is that he doesn't have to do much around the house. My husbands are all happily married, so I don't think much will change.

Honestly, finding a real husband for me is easier than finding, let's say... a good electrician. But finding a real husband would entail dating unless things have changed. I hate dating. You know, I think I will see if Angie can recommend a husband husband for me. Her recommendation service has come a long way and you never know.

10/17/2014

Junk For Joy

The big garage sale extravaganza is over. After 3 weekends of hard labor to prepare the merchandise and stage all of our glorious crap, the big day finally arrived. Sister and I took a vacation day on Friday so we would be completely ready to face the crowds of bargain hunters on Saturday.

We advertised this as "the garage sale of the century" and the bargain hunters arrived in droves. Sister and I were dressed in proper attire for the event. You have to be easily identifiable as the bosses if you're going to make the best deals and the most money. Sissy and I exuded an "in charge" vibe with a touch badass thrown in, if I do say so myself. We were decked out in jeans, old concert t-shirts, cowboy hats and fanny packs. Ok, maybe we looked more like tourists from Texas, but people got it that we were running the show.

The customers dove into our merchandise and had arm loads of goodies in no time. It was amazing. You'd think we were giving it away for free. Actually, that is a pretty close to what they wanted to pay. One of the hottest items were the dozens of extra-plush, nearly new, (freshly washed) terry cloth bath towels. These weren't ours. We have a friend who's aunts neighbor died and she had a closet full of really deluxe towels in different color palettes that she would change around to suit her mood. We agreed to sell her stuff and take a cut of the proceeds. Every two minutes someone would hold up a towel and ask "how much?". "Two dollars each", I would reply thinking about what a great deal that was for such nice towels. Anyway, the reply from the prospective towel purchasers was always the same. "One dollar" and it was a statement, not a question. I was advised by many customers that they sell bath towels at Wal-Mart for only $2.50, so our towels were overpriced. I have watch too much QVC to let them get away comparing those towels with our fabulous, luxurious, dead-lady towels. I sprung into action and held up one of our towels then wrapped it around me to show how large they were. I then challenged them to feel the sumptuous thickness. I had to do this demo a bunch of times during the day, but we got two bucks for every one of those damn towels.

Garage sale customers are a breed of their own. One thing you can be sure of when you have one of these sales is that you will go through a laundry list of emotions. You will feel charmed, annoyed, sentimental, pissed off and amused. The folks that come to these things range from those who truly need basic household items, to the swap meeters who resell your junk, to recyclers who love other peoples used stuff to nut cases who don't need anything but love bargains. It is that latter philosophy that got sister and I into our current situation. Oh yeah, there's also the scrap gold guys who come around, look at your costume jewelry through a loop and leave in a huff. Love those jerks. One man even asked me if there was any real gold on the table. He was too lazy to look! I couldn't resist; I told him, in my best blonde "Clueless" voice, that I had just sold the bag of stuff that had 14k on it to someone who was just here. He left in a double huff.

Then there are the people who pretend they don't speak English. I had one lady who brought me a pile of clothes, many still brand new, and wanted to know the price for all. I counted out 25 hangers that I took from her. I was calculating in my head and trying to be fair. Even though the tags were still hanging off much of it, this stuff doesn't fit us and neither sister nor I are going to slim down 10 lbs to be able to wear any of it. That was the original plan. "Twenty dollars for everything," I said with a smile, thinking that she would be over the moon excited about all those new clothes for so little money. "Too much," she said with a scowl. She then flashed all the money she had, $15, and tried to get me to take it. I could see that she was playing me, so I made her take out some items and I took her money. She came back later and bought the other stuff. I felt triumphant as a business person. Then she pulled out a bag with two items from the first round that she wanted to exchange. Who does that? I let her. By then I was exhausted. She won.

There were so many neighborhood residents who came and told us how amazing our sale was. We sold lots of things to locals who will give our treasures a good home. We made a lot of people happy and all in all it was a very fun day. We got rid of so much stuff. Was it worth it? Was it a success?

Well, we made an impressive four figures. The pile of garage sale inventory is infinitely smaller, covered up and ready to go for when we do it one more time next month. My sister has her garage back and her car is happy. I need to mention that the friend that was going to help us bailed on us and we had to hire a helper. Also, after three weekends of manual labor our old bodies were in pretty bad shape, so we each had a long massage on Sunday. We were too tired to cook, so we ended up eating out most of the time for the last three weeks. So, was it a success? Hell yes! We made a little money and got rid of a ton of things we don't use. Best of all was that the two sisters got spend time together. We didn't whistle while we worked, but we yakked up a storm. We talked about everything and everyone and planned out all the great fun we're going to have in this life. And don't tell anyone, but each of us got to buy some fantastic things that we couldn't live without. The dead lady didn't just leave nice towels.

10/09/2014

Falling In Love Again

I am feeling dreamy right now. Come along with me on the ride. You will love where we're going... I promise. I am deliriously happy and exhilarated right now. I am admittedly high. Have I taken some kind of potion or eaten some kind of wacky brownies? No, no, no. It's October! It's officially FALL.

I am mad for this time of year. Everything about it is fantastic. Considering that I live in Southern California where summer and hot weather hang on for as long as they can, snippets of the fall season to come break through the heat to let me know that my favorite time of year is arriving. Although the temperature was in the 80s yesterday, there was a cool breeze wafting through, starting in the late afternoon. By early evening it had cooled down into the 60s. The night was clear and crisp outside when I sat on my patio after dinner with my last cup of tea before bed.

What is it about fall that intoxicates me so? Let me tell you... you know you can't stop me.

It's the crisp air. It's the delicious aromas of logs being burned in fireplaces when you walk the dog. It's the exquisite colors of the leaves turning and so much more. I am not a big fan of football but you don't have to ask me twice to go to a game with a group of friends. Fall is all about football and tailgating and having a great time. I am actually pretty good at feigning excitement at football games. Even though I never know which inning it is, I am usually eating or drinking something and looking happy. I have had my friends fooled for years.

Speaking of eating and drinking, the food of fall is amazing. Traditionally harvest time, the cuisine turns from summer salads to warm foods that are hearty and robust. Soups, stews and freshly baked bread. Love it!

One of my favorite things about this time of the year are the clothes. I have more sweaters than I like to admit and I just took the bins down from the storage shelves and visited with every pullover and cardigan I own. Soon I will get to wear them and I can't wait. My dogs will be able to wear their many sweaters, too, and they can't wait either. There's something about wrapping yourself in a sweater that feels so special. And pulling on a pair of boots only makes it better. You just don't get that feeling when you throw on shorts, a tank top and flip flops. I'm sorry, but you just don't.

With fall comes Halloween and pumpkins and all that. People are decorating the outside of their houses more and more and it makes me smile. I will be in Virginia this Halloween so I will get a big dose of fall on the East Coast of the United States. It doesn't get any better than that. One of my dear friends who lives on a huge farm is having us to dinner followed by a bonfire and after dinner drinks. Dreamy!

I do love Halloween and it will be fun to experience it so far from home. People who know me know that I am a crazy good gramma and are probably wondering how I could possibly leave my grand babies on Halloween. They are 2 1/2 and just-turned-7. I always buy them their costumes so they are all set. I have already earned my stripes in the Trick or Treating department years ago with my girls, so I won't be needed there. When they are out gathering up goodies, I will be sitting on my best friends back porch sipping wine and listening to Mozart. My babies will FaceTime me in their costumes before they go out with their parents. I will get a slew of fabulous photos of my own little Elsa, from Frozen, and Spider-Man and will be able to share these images with all of Virginia. Everybody wins.

I want to warn the ├╝ber-intellectuals who read my columns that my next fall favorite might not make any sense to either of you. I love the new Fall Television Season! I look forward to finding new shows to watch on the regular networks. You can't watch cable all the time. I need some drama and comedy to intermix with my regular diet of real life crime and house flipping.

At the top of my list of why I love fall is that soon I can come home in the evening and light a fire. There is something about a crackling fire that soothes me and makes me so content. The only thing that could make it better is if I had a fireplace. Just kidding! I have a great one but I made you laugh.

10/02/2014

Garage Sale 101

My sister and I have been piling up unwanted items for the past year and planning the granddaddy of all garage sales. We usually do this a couple of times a year, but this time is different because we are seriously downsizing. We both have so much stuff that we don't use or need, it's time to let a lot of it go. Sister has a nice sized garage for storage and she also lives on the perfect street. It's a bit of a thoroughfare, so people naturally stop when they see the fabulous array of crap that we have for sale.

Last weekend we began the preparation. For two solid days we pulled down the stacks of boxes, sorted out the treasures by category, moved the furniture to key locations and set up a million folding tables. We know how to do this, because we got into this situation because we love to go to garage sales. We both are very pleased with the abundance of great stuff that we own and use that came from garage sales, flea markets and auctions, but right now we just have too much. My poor sister's garage was so full that there was barely room for her car, a Volkswagen bug. Need I say more? We've been waiting for summer to pass, because it's harder to run a good sale when it's too hot. Buyers don't like to shop for long when it's hot and this girl hates to be hot, so fall is perfect The big event is scheduled for two weekends from now.

“You want to grab the drive-by shoppers who are on the way to somewhere else and can't resist stopping.”

The goal is to slim down what we own, make some money for our upcoming vacation and give my sister her garage back. We will do all of that and then some. I am a merchant and I am determined to make this sale the "event extraordinaire". It is important that you stage these sales so that everything looks appetizing to the buyers. There is a way to categorize the clutter so it is irresistible. The trick is to make it look random, but organize it cleverly. You don't want your customers knocking into each other, so you create "departments" without being obvious. The front lawn is like the showroom floor of a car dealership. You want to grab the drive-by shoppers who are on the way to somewhere else and can't resist stopping. The lawn is where we will put some furniture, the bicycle, the outdoor tea cart with the yellow striped umbrella and the "art gallery" of framed pictures that will line the walls... everything big and flashy. We will put a long table of china, pretty glassware, lamps, picture frames, candlesticks, etc. to be sure to attract the women. I think we have at least one of everything in the world and we plan to show it off and bring in the buyers. We even have a brand new professional barber pole to sell... don't ask. I will be the cashier and checkout will be on the front lawn as well. There's MORE treasures beyond the lawn in the patio area and the garage. They can enter, but they can only get out by going by me and my security man, Andy. He's our dear friend and Sister's next door neighbor. He will be there to keep a watchful eye on the customers and make sure everyone pays. He is also in charge of feeding us, so his presence is invaluable.

The patio area is where we keep all the "pretties". The vintage stuff, the linens, the purses, the cute kitchen accessories, decorator items and basically stuff that woman love to buy. My sister and I couldn't not buy this stuff, so we brought it home but now it has to go! The last stop is the garage. This we call the "testosterone department". Men come looking for tools, etc., or get dragged along to these sales. We are setting up an area to keep them organized and out of the way while the ladies shop to their hearts' content. The garage is staged with everything utilitarian from tools, to basketballs to sleeping bags, electronics, poker equipment, a Shop Vac and a 1990s boom box just to name some of the goodies in our man trap. Sis and I have gathered everything up from past projects, past boyfriends and ex-husbands and created a garage sale "man cave" that should wow the guys and keep them busy.

There's still a lot of work to be done but it's coming along great. Wanna hear a funny story? We had to run out last Saturday to get some things we needed. On the way to Target, we ran into of all things... a big Garage Sale. It would have been ridiculous to stop, so we did. Sister and I came to the realization a long time ago that we are indeed ridiculous. We both spotted these two great pieces of older furniture, a French Provincial desk and an adorable dresser. We don't need either one for ourselves, but they would sure add some panache to OUR sale. The owners were obviously eager to unload these pieces, so Sis and I offered them $40 for both and talked them into delivering them to us later in the day. Sister has a VW bug, remember. Furniture sells really well if you know what you're doing, and we do. The truth is that their crap makes our crap look even better. I'll post photos next week. You'll see that buying two large pieces of furniture when you're trying to unload a lifetime of junk makes perfect sense.

This weekend is more of the same. We clean and dust and fold and make our goods look nice. The more you prepare what you're selling, the more money you will make. If you take a stack of freshly laundered gently used bath towels, tie them up with satin ribbon and a bow and slap a price on them that is fair, they will be gone in a flash. We make everything look as nearly new as we can. I know that's not what most people do, but that's how Sister and I roll.

I'll keep you posted on our progress. We are so excited about getting all this stuff out of our lives and turning it into cash. But I think what we are looking forward to the most is making some space in our garages and houses. How else are we going to be able to go out to garage sales on Saturdays again? Out with the old stuff and in with the NEW old stuff! Yeah!

9/25/2014

Taking a Tranquil-izer

I just finished my third week of yoga and I really love it. It has been a pretty life changing experience for me so far. One of the life lessons I never learned was how to relax, so the prospect of getting to the point of being “at one” with myself and the universe seemed nearly impossible for this crazy girl.

I owe a lot of my positive feelings about yoga to my yogi, my teacher. Before I met her, my only knowledge of a yogi was the one who was a bear and had a sidekick named Boo Boo. She is an older woman who speaks in poetry and never hesitates or falters. Her words are seamless and flow in continuous perfection every minute of class time.

On my first night, I got there what I thought was right on time. It was 10 minutes before the start of class. I was surprised when I found the room and there were already 15-20 pairs of assorted Birkenstocks, sandals and flip flops all lined up. I knew I was in the right place until I removed my shoes and added them to the rows of discarded footwear. When I looked at their shoes and then looked at mine, I thought for a moment that I might not belong.

“When I looked at their shoes and then looked at mine, I thought for a moment that I might not belong.”

I entered the dark-ish room and everyone was sitting in what I now recognize as the lotus position. The teacher welcomed me and beckoned me to find a place for my mat. Easier said than done, I want to tell you. I have had more luck finding a parking place at Macy’s on Christmas Eve day than finding a space in the makeshift yoga studio. It seems that the room is normally used as the playroom for child care. It’s carpeted, but all those places were taken. All that was left for me was a space in the linoleum lined “kitchenette” alcove behind the teacher. At least I was alone and wouldn’t be bumping arms and legs with anyone. Even the cushy new yoga mat I had just purchased at Marshall’s couldn’t protect my old body from the hard floor. As she began her melodious instructions, I had a hard time paying attention at first because the man in front of me was taking up two spaces on the carpeted area and it pissed me off. I quickly got a hold of myself and paid attention, although I was finding great pleasure in plotting the carpet hog's death.

The hard floor made everything hurt but I listened attentively to her direction. “Cultivate stillness in your life”, she purred. “With yoga you have the power to break through that which holds you back”. I liked the sound of that and did everything I could to emulate what everyone else was doing. She had us lie down and asked us to “flower” our toes. It didn’t take me long to realize that there was a yoga-speak that went along with the yoga routines. I had to listen really closely because the sweet yogi lady spoke very softly and the boom box with the accompanying yoga music was right over my head on the kitchen counter. She then asked us to raise our knees towards heaven with feet planted on the floor. “Establish a friendship with the floor”, she prompted. She then took us from the tops of our heads, down the back, hips and to the feet with feeling our relationship with the floor. I kept thinking that the floor and I could have gotten off to a better start if I were on carpet, but I did as she asked for the next hour. I muddled my way through the first class and she had only praise for all of us and thanked us all profusely for allowing her to teach us. Thank goodness she couldn’t see my sprattle-legged attempts to follow along. I may not have made friends with the floor, but the kitchenette cupboards and fridge and I are very well acquainted.

The next week was so much better. I got there 20 minutes early and got the best mat space in the room. I close enough to the teacher to see and hear her. Even though this was described as a class appropriate for beginners, most of the participants were obviously yoga veterans. When it came time to do the pigeon pose, my teacher promised it would be a gift to the hips. My hips probably won’t write her a thank you note, but I did feel things I have never felt before and I liked it. By the middle of the second night, I had thrown my heart and soul into trying to do yoga. I was feeling pretty good about it when all of a sudden the teacher rose to her feet and started to roam around the class room watching us. Who do you think she sought out first? Me. Oh crap, I thought. She is coming to personally escort me to Special Ed Yoga. But no, she just wanted to “align” my movements. As she looked directly, but very nurturingly at me, she told the class to draw attention to the core of our bodies, the epicenter of all movement. She smiled at me like she understood that my core had quite a little tummy that went with it and not to worry.

I will tell you that when you get into to doing yoga you cannot be shy. You spend a great deal of time with your ass in the air and your legs fully apart like a human wishbone. None of my gynecological appointments ever made me feel as exposed or vulnerable. My biggest revelation is that even though I am a damn good dancer, I cannot coordinate yoga moves with breathing in and out. If we are supposed to be lowering our arms and legs on the exhale, you can be sure that I am on the inhale. But I am getting better and I must be really honest. Even though I am awkward and stupid when it comes to yoga, I feel fantastic afterwards.

Right now my favorite pose is Savasana, or the corpse pose. You lie down at the end of the session, close your eyes, hands at the side with palms up. You let your bones sink into the earth, allow your whole body to melt like ice on a sunny day and think to yourself “welcome into the world of bliss”. You get to stay like this and enjoy the peace until she gently rings little brass bells. It’s fantastic.

We all rise up into lotus, put our hands together prayer style pointed towards the sky and say Namaste. When I went home, I looked up the word and it translates as follows: Nama means bow; as means I; and te means you. I bow to you.

Your Miss Fifi is becoming “at one” with the world and it feels so good. Talk to you next week. Namaste, my dear readers, Namaste.

9/19/2014

My Darlings

Before I get on with what I have to say, let me wish you all a very Merry Christmas. I know this sounds odd, but here at LoveFifi.com it is the Holidays. We are in turbo gear getting ready for the Fall,Christmas and Valentine's seasons. It all has to be done in July-September in order to be ready with new and exciting lingerie delicacies for you. We are hurrying like mad to get it all done in the next few weeks... and you guessed it, I can't write an article this week.

I love writing about what's on my mind, but at the moment, what's on my mind is a big meeting with the whole staff on Monday about "Gifts with Purchase" and give-aways for my customers that are in the works! We have our last photo shoot of the year coming up next Tuesday and one of our models just dropped out and I am scrambling to find a replacement. I am writing descriptions for our new items as fast as I can so we can get the new goodies up and ready for you to view. The list goes on.

I had fully intended to spill the beans about what really goes on in yoga class. I just had my second session and I am ready to tell all. The truth of the matter is that I am out-of-my-mind busy and I am not going to write something that doesn't make you laugh. I promise my yoga experience will make you laugh out loud, but it's not going to be until next week. Hopefully you can wait. You have always been so forgiving when I can't commit to a real article and I hope you will understand this time, too.

I let you in on so much of my life, I feel I can write to you and explain when I am up to my ass in alligators. Yes, I said ass. They can say it on prime time television, so I can say it here. By the way, if you find "ass" offensive, you might not want to read my yoga article next week. You have no idea what goes on in Yogaland.

I am pretty stressed out and I am hopeful that yoga will help me cope. As you will discover next week, I kinda don't get it yet, but I am giving it my all.

Love and ohmmmmmmmmmmm,

9/11/2014

Health and Welfare

I went to the doctor a few weeks ago and prepared myself for the lecture about losing weight and getting more exercise. He’s like a broken record. No matter what I go to him for, it always gets back to losing at least 20 pounds and exercising regularly. I don’t know what he’s complaining about, I have lost 20 lbs... many times over. And I have actually been trying different exercise regimens all the time to try to find something that I like enough that I’ll stick with it. The problem is that his take on exercising regularly and mine seem to differ. He’s talking Monday, Wednesday, Friday. I have been actively searching for “cardio” programs more on the January, February, March kinda schedule.

So I was sitting in the examination room dreading his entrance, when in comes the nurse. Tell me, what is up with sending in a nurse beforehand who takes your blood pressure and asks you every freakin’ time what medications you are taking? You would think they'd know. "I take the ones the damn doctor prescribes", I was thinking to myself. Isn’t that how it’s supposed to work? But I didn’t want to make waves so I took out the little card I made with all my prescriptions and dosages and read them out loud so the nurse could make notes... AGAIN.

“Is your primary care physician allowed to call you a smart ass?”

Alone once more, there was a knock on the door. It was him. He always enters the same way. Reading my chart, shaking his head and mumbling. “ Miss Fifi... you’ve lost a pound and a half since your last visit”, he grumbled. Without hesitation, I exuberantly applauded myself for a job well done while he give me a very unkind look. Is your primary care physician allowed to call you a smart ass? Just wondering. He obviously wasn’t impressed with my weight loss, so I promised to work on it. And I always do work on it, but I also work on putting it back on with just as much conviction. He then asks me what I do for exercise. I knew this question was coming and I was prepared. “I started water aerobics”, I replied, hoping that would appease him. I avoided eye contact to try to keep the conversation from going any further. The truth is I actually stopped water aerobics the same day I started. I liked it except for the fact that I don’t like wearing a swimsuit and I hate getting wet. I did love it that I was the youngest person in the class, however.

“Water Arobics!” That’s not the kind of exercise you need!” he bellowed. “Listen to me!” he continued to bark. “If it were up to me, I would have chosen yoga for you!”. Was I dreaming? He would have frozen yogurt for me? When? Where? What flavors? Is this while I am exercising or after? It didn’t take me long to realize that he was recommending yoga. He felt that Hatha Yoga was something I would benefit from greatly, both in body and soul. I couldn’t disagree. I had dabbled in brief yoga sessions before on cruise ships and really did like it. Of course, heading to the buffet afterwards may have had something to do with it. I speak Yoga-ese enough to know that Hatha is the calming, stretching, get-in-touch-with-your-body-and-spirit kind of yoga. I almost got rooked into joining my youngest daughter for a yoga session a few years ago. I didn’t know about different kinds of yoga until she left a voice message reminding me about our date for “Pilgrim” Yoga. I called her back and inquired as to what Pilgrim Yoga was all about. It turns out that I misunderstood what she said and it is called Bikram Yoga. It involves doing yoga moves in a room that is heated to 105 degrees. I gently declined the invitation although my daughter insisted that I would find it to be a joyous and "freeing" experience. Bless her heart! All I could think about was what could be worse than exercise? Exercising in the DESERT, was my immediate thought. Whew! Talk about dodging a bullet.

My doctor and I discussed the virtues of yoga and I promised to give it a try. It couldn’t hurt me and it might even help my soul and my stress level. My appointment seemed to be going well and he was actually slightly delightful. I thought he was leaving, but instead he sat down, opened my folder and looked at the notes that the nurse had just taken. “So, are you still taking Sillystatin, Yadamycin and Gooberglycol?” he said with a straight face, making certain to include the dosages. It took everything in me to answer him calmly without affirming his “smart ass” diagnosis of me. I wanted to say “Nah, I don’t take them anymore. I just fill the prescriptions and what I can’t sell on the Black Market, I am able to get rid of in alley ways.” But I didn’t. I just smiled and promised to eat less cookies and look for a suitable yoga class.

I start tonight. I have a brand new yoga mat and I am waiting to see what everyone else is wearing so that if I continue, I have the cutest yoga clothes in the class. To be continued...