Pizza

It has been brought to my attention that not everyone is familiar with the regional bastardizations of pizza America has created since stealing the dish from the Italians.* As a chick in Chicago, I would like to remedy this situation by the following chart:

Please note that I stole the GF/Vegan idea from my friend, Nick. He makes a good case, no?

*Originally pizza was not really a dish you looked forward to. It was like stew. You made it to get rid of all the leftover crap from previous dinners so as not to waste food. Crust, sauce, yesterday's meatloaf,** the salad remnants from the night before, crud, these peppers look like they're gonna go... and cheese to hold it all on there!

** Be aware that this part is made-up. Leftovers didn't exist in plenty the way they do now, there were no refrigerators. I imagine if you had some peperoni but not enough to really feed someone for a meal, that would go on there but that sounds way too appetizing to get my point across. The truth is, olden-day leftovers must have rocked. 

Cat Chart

We recently moved to a home with CLOSETS. And CUPBOARDS, which are just mini-closets. We've been here three months and I am still finding new cubbies. Sometimes I put a single box of mac n' cheese in a cupboard just to have something in it. I don't know how many boxes I have hidden this way. I will live this winter like a squirrel, my whole kitchen being a treasure-trove of stashed food surprises.

Sidney, our cat, however, is not so excited by the new space. Or rather, the placement of her litter box in the new space. The bathroom seems a fine place for urination to me. In fact, it was designed for urination. A whole room dedicated to keeping unsanitary things in an easily-disinfected space! Genius!

The cat does not think so. She would rather pee in my office. She communicated this to me by doing so before there was a litter box here. Thankfully, I figured out (after about the third puddle formed under my desk) that this is her preferred urination station and bought a new litter box for just behind my desk. I am not happy about this, but I am a heck of a lot less unhappy than I was a week ago when she was trying to tell her stupid human where she wanted her furniture.

The last week of watching my cat pee (I can't help it, I don't have a lid for the thing yet and she is RIGHT THERE) has been very informative. It has informed me that my cat is bad at peeing. For two days I thought she was pissing just outside of the litter box to spite me. In actuality, she just can't figure out a litter box.

This is a picture of a cat peeing in a litter box. Note that the cat should turn 180 degrees so her butt is to the high wall.

Sidney does not follow this cart. She walks straight into the litter and, butt hanging out the entrance, all four paws planted firmly in litter, pees right out the "in" spot.

She also exits the box wrong. The Boy and I woke up to a clatter and Sidney running for the opposite end of the house like her ass was on fire and her whiskers were catching. In my office, the litter box was exactly 90 degrees rotated.

After peeing (butt hanging out the "in"), she CONTINUED WALKING OVER THE BACK WALL nearly tipping it over. Not one turn had been executed during the whole process.

I intend to print out the above chart and hang it over her litter box. Now to figure out how to spell, "instructions for litter box use" in cat.

Welcome To Night Vale

Always the last to jump on a band-wagon, or even know a wagon is being boarded, I have recently discovered* the #2 itunes podcast, (only beaten out by This American Life) "Welcome to Night Vale."

If anyone else does not know about this podcast:
1) Hooray! I am not the technically last one to know, and I have found proof!
2) Hooray! I can show you something I think is cool! +5 hipster points awarded to me for hearing about it first!

Think of Welcome to Night Vale as an NPR radio station happening in an H.P. Lovecraft novel.
http://commonplacebooks.com/welcome-to-night-vale/

I loved the podcast so much I did a yoga/Night Vale mash-up poster! If anyone wants one for their home or studio (because, really, who doesn't think subtle references to the occult and bondage are good for a yoga studio?) Send me an email (yogabadassery@gmail.com.) and we'll get one printed out for you.

Also, I did this drawing too. It started out as a Neil Gaiman's Sandman reference but while listening to the podcast, it turned into a library reference. I love the library in Night Vale almost as much as I love the Dog Park. If I lived in Night Vale, the dog park would be my home. Even though it's off limits to all residents and their dogs.

I will leave you with one of my favorite Night Vale proverbs: Look to the sky. You will not find answers there, but you will certainly see what everyone is screaming about. Very yogic, amiright?

* Discovered via the Universal Geek podcast, of which I am a periodic supporting host. I am supposed to contribute, but mainly I just giggle a lot. But you would too, these people are fantastic to listen to. http://www.universal-geek.com

Another Great Moment in Yoga History

I have a friend, Sara, who continued to practice yoga regularly throughout her first, and for most of, her second pregnancy. As she can pride herself on her determination, I can pride myself on my lazer focus on the posture. The two glorious attributes plus pregnancy postures proved an embarrassing combination during full locust.

I am incredibly glad that Sara and I are friends and that she has a very good sense of humor.

In fact, she is such an unflappable yogi that she actually did try to lift me -- by lifting her chest -- before I figured out that my hand was not actually resting on her shoulder. Great class.

(Sara is the author of a new blog you should check out too! The title says it all, "Dude, I Hope You Step on a Lego.")

Great Expectations

We all know that we are supposed to look at our practice without judgement, without expectation. We also all know that his is a little bit bullshit.

Ideally, yes, I would not care what I did yesterday, or that with this many hours logged I should TOTALLY have a locked out knee by now. But my postures are not ideal and neither is my yogic attitude. I'm working on both, but if I admit that this is a process I must also admit that I'm not there yet and that's okay too.

With that said, I have found myself doubting my progress. As a result, when I drag myself into class lately I feel like I have been dragging a lot of baggage too.

I work hard but I find yoga frustrating, rewarding, time consuming, and necessary. For every reason I love it I also want to just walk away. It's painful to feel that way toward something you, at times, love so much and gives you so much in return.

I asked Gianna Purcell, a yogi I have watched in astonishment for the entire four years I have been practicing, how she kept her enthusiasm.

She told me (and this is WAY paraphrased because it happened like a month ago) that she sometimes felt like other people's expectations, although only put upon her by her own head, were a bit weighty. When that happens she'll walk away for a bit, take a few Ashtanga classes then come back to Bikram renewed.

'Other people's expectations?' YES! I've been feeling that but I know I shouldn't, 'cause, you know, "no expectations"? Nobody in my studio is expecting me to be a godess. They will be happy that I show up even if I stay on the floor the whole time breathing. They say this almost every class.

Still, in my own head it is hard not to feel like people want a certain level of practice from me. It comes from the first-timers in the locker room asking how long I've been practicing. From the wounded yogi working their asses off to heal themselves telling me I'm inspirational (I want to shake those people, "Look in the mirror for better inspiration, Yahoo!").

So my reaction to this new knowledge is two parts. Part one: I know I need to knock it off. It's all in my head. If I have to lie down all class just to prove to myself that nobody is going to care, I should do that. If I have to walk away for a bit, I need to do that.

And here is the second part: This is what I do to Gianna's practice. To Allan's. To Aura's. To Jessica's. To Liz's. The list of my yoga idols is extensive. The amount of fawning I do over them a little extreme. I have always intended this to be complimentary. It never occurred to me that these poor yogis are getting pressure from my words. So, to all my idols, please here this:

While I want your poses, what I really want is your cool. I idolize the self-assuredness. The ability to be in a room and own it without so much as a word. My idols have a passion for life and a determination that make it possible to achieve amazing craft. It is that craft, that attention to detail, the knowledge that working towards a goal, slowly, steadily, for years and years and years, is worth it.

If you never do another yoga posture again, I will still feel privileged to know you. I will probably still fawn over you (although I'm going to try to contain myself from here on out, you know, play it cool like some people would infront of rock stars). I will definitely still try to emulate you.

We surround ourselves by people we like. We hope they want to surround themselves with us. It is not a perfect bow that makes us fun at a party, comforting in a hospital room or strong in crisis. It is not a perfect bow I want from you.

I love you all and all of you.

And I'm Not Even Fully Vegetarian

It occurs to me that my norms may be a bit out of whack.

Rooming with several yogis at a friend's house in St. Louis, we came home from the studio ravenous to find our host cooking his dinner. I got super excited looking into the pan and identifying the delicious smelling contents. 

"Texturized dehydrated vegetable protein! YUM!" I exclaimed.

I got an odd 'I would face-palm myself if I weren't holding this spatula' look. Then he informed me that I was looking at hamburger meat.

Whoops.

When I first was introduced to dehydrated vegetable protein I called it, "de-homogenized, re-homogenized, texturized, veggie crap" because who names food like that?!? At this point it's a fairly normal part of my diet.

Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Vitamix!

My mom is buying me a Vitamix blender. This is an epic event for me.

She came across the idea when she graciously housed a couple of my yogi friends and I who happened to be in St. Louis for a yoga seminar. For the week-long event each yogi had a single backpack.

She was remarking on our ability to consolidate our gear to the bare essentials when we produced a giant Vitamix blender from one of our packs. Im pretty sure it looked like we were pulling a lamp from the Mary Poppins bag.

Just the essentials, folks.

She was a little perplexed that a second t-shirt was considered non-essential but the blender, well, that HAD to go with us.

We are not unusual. Yogis traveling via plane call ahead to see who is bringing a Vitamix. Crash-pads are established by who owns a Vitamix. Vitamixes are the proverbial office water-cooler around which we gather.

So, yes, I am excited. Like, new car excited.

Here are the reasons I am excited:

1. Participation in the ritual of packing a Vitamix + a weeks worth of travel-gear in a single backpack.
2. No more chunky smoothies!
3. There is something you do with grains in these things. Im not sure what, but there is a cookbook included. I look forward to getting my naughty-carb on.
4. Raw Power!
5. Cleaning without taking up the whole dishwasher; a drop of soap, turn the blender on, done!
6. No more poking at kale with a chopstick to get the bits moving.
7. No more, "Ka-CHUNK!" as the chopstick gets caught in the blade.
8. No more eating bits of chopstick. (Im sure that will make them taste better!)
9.  A SEVEN year warranty.

I may paint flames on the side of this bad-boy. Wonder if they make a shaker-hood accessory...