Giant Sweaty Yoga Horse
So it has been hot. I know those of you from Houston or anywhere south of the Mason-Dixon line or pretty much anywhere that isn’t here are yelling “SHUT UP” at me right now, but have some sympathy, will ya?
It’s not even so much the heat (it has been about 95 degrees, which isn’t bad unless you live in a tiny uninsulated box that traps heat and you work at home), it’s OCTOBER. Everyone else is talking about pumpkin spice lattes and casseroles and boots and making fallen-leaf crafts. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in front of the fan, drinking iced Pellegrino and mopping my menopausal brow.
I hear other menopausal women have hot flashes that last a minute or two. Not me – of course I’m special. Every day, starting about 5 pm, I have a 90 minute hot flash. This timeframe coincides with the evening dog walk, so I imagine my neighbors think of me as terribly out of shape, as they see me red-faced and sweating while ambling along with Abbie Lynn, who proceeds at a sub-1 mph pace, smelling every blade of grass and eating every wayward cat poop (I TRY to stop her!)
If I don’t walk the dog, I go to yoga, where the hot flash is great for making my brow rain sweat all over the inside of my glasses when we do forward folds. I see these Lululemon ladies, with their tiny little butts and their perfect messy ponytails and I feel like the GIANT SWEATY HORSE YOGA LADY. Beware or I will tip over on you. No, I’m not joking. I could break your ribs. Please step back.
That’s all the news I’m willing to type right now. I gotta go buy more Pellegrino. Did I mention that it is hot?
Here’s my favorite picture of Abbie lately. No, I have no idea what was going on in her head.