Skip to main content

White Food 3.6.13

I'm pretty sure my attendance at yoga this morning is like going to confession. It had been a long 60 days but I enjoyed a nice bowl of pasta last night with home made turkey meatballs. It echoed in my mind as I sat staring at the empty dish with discomfort and regret in my gut, what the yogi said the first day. "Let's not eat white foods." Not the gobble of the turkey meatball nor the cottony fluffy innards of the soft roll gave me a similar guilt. So despite my lingering soreness from Monday's visit I will limp my way back in.

In repentance I terrorized my family this morning insisting they all get moving early so I could stop at the super Wally World and get my own yoga mat. I think since its my third time then the mat won't put my continued commitment at risk. That's pretty much my m.o. Buy new shoes stop running. Unlimited membership in anything means limited ongoing interest.

Will tofu and kale be part of my daily life? What will I become next?

Popular posts from this blog

Pat on the back

It means a great deal to me when I hear another mother say how hard things are, how tired she is, or how overextended the family schedule has become. There's a feeling of kinship knowing I am not the only one that doesn't have it all "together". Still, though, it somehow makes me question my own resolve. They have more kids then me - of course they are tired! They commute to work each day, no wonder they struggle to get a great dinner on the table. All those sports they tote the kids around to must be exhausting! What's my excuse? I have one child, work from home, have very few responsibilities that require my time away from my family.... I must be lazy right? Why is it that one moment I can take pride in an accomplishment but in the next split second feel a deep sense of inadequacy? Was I trained this way? Is this something else I should blame on my mother? My commitment to myself this week will be to relish in my accomplishments. Whether it is making a great d...

"A thing is not necessarily true because a man dies for it." -Oscar Wilde

The night trying too hard almost killed me. The evening started as a success. Thousands of dollars were being spent with each paddle's rise, benefitting a charter school on the island. On the microphone a local, well-liked politician energized the group with his beaming smile and rhythmic descriptions of items up for bid. Wine flowed endlessly, poured by the smiling staff hustling around the tent to ensure glasses remained full. Alcohol is a good fund-raising lubricant. The team of servers kept close watch on our table especially. At our table, their boss, my partner, was keeping close watch on the execution of this important evening. The auction ended and as we all dispersed from our seats to congratulate our table-neighbors on their winnings, my partner approached me quickly. His hand firmly grasped my empty arm (as the other was holding a wine glass) and he told me we were leaving. I was confused at first but as he began to describe the flaws in service he noted during the...

Reach and ye shall find

A week ago I was wavering. I felt like giving up. The practicing of what I was preaching was getting harder. It's not like me to reach out for support, or to make "cries for help" but that's what it finally took for me to keep going. Four days off from running was translated as a sign that I was just done. Maybe the luster was lost and I did what I came to do - so hang up the special foam sneakers and stop making the athletic section the first stop in the department store. It's over. But somewhere in my guts between my heart and my stomach there was still this little twinkle. It was like a little seed of adrenaline remained trying to keep the greater flame alive. But I needed more. So what does any self respecting person do these days when they need a platform to out themselves of whatever shameful thing they can't bare to speak aloud: post it to facebook! One of the few colleagues I happen to be connected with on Facebook answered my call via an email. I...