13 hours of OH. MY. GAWD.

Look how cute and inconspicuous it is

I have this really cool app on my iPhone. It's attractive, fun and, best of all, it does what I want it to do. It tracks my lady time. It also estimates when I'm ovulating and fertile. Now that I'm not on birth control, I have no way of tracking my Power Week. [Insert Superman theme, if you will.]
Really, it's too darn cute. There is a banner held up by butterflies which floats serenely across the screen (how could it not be serene?) that reads, "Period Day 3" or "10 days until Period" or whatever it may be. I showed The Man after telling him all this because he thinks I sometimes get too excited over nothing or I'm easily amused (to be fair, I am) and, after seeing it, he replied, "It really is a very nice app!"
I don't lead folks astray.
Anyway, I don't look at it very often. In fact, this past Monday, I thought to myself, "Hmm, am I late? Because I could swear that I should have my period by now." I opened my handy app because, after all, this is its purpose, and saw the banner held by butterflies float across the screen with the writing, "5 days late."
Say what?
SAY WHAT?
My heart flip-flopped. I know that we were planning for this. I mean, this was why I no longer took birth control, right? Letting nature take its course, right? Sure. But HOLY CRAP. We did it. Again.
I, of course, sprinted straight to The Man and shoved my phone in his face and yelled, "I'm late!" Let me just say that yet again, I failed to present him with this kind of big news in a thoughtful and creative manner. I always mean to and even daydream of how I would do it. But no, I just damn near smack him over the head with it. Like this.
Anyway, I saw his face as he processed the information. First wondering if I meant I was late for an appointment. Or a play date I had scheduled way back when. Then I saw his expression change from puzzled to a face of joy.
"Right on!"
Yes, that's definitely a statement you want to hear from your significant other. On the other hand, this is what I was saying:
"Oh my gawd, what are we going to do? How are we going to sleep? How am I going to sleep?? I'm the one who can't sleep! How am I going to get two kids ready in the morning and myself and get them to day care or their grandparents AND get to work????"
I kid you not, I was shaking.
Being a parent is a complicated thing. You want it. It's awesome. It's rewarding. Yet it is one of the hardest things you will ever do.
I couldn't sleep that night. My mind raced, thinking of how I would manage it all. What's my game plan? I know that we can do it but how will we do it? I'm a planner. I can't control a lot but I will prepare everything I possibly can.
Then I got my period the next morning.
I was disappointed. Sure, I had worried all through the night but we did it! We were going to have a baby.  For roughly 13 hours, I thought I was going to bring a baby into this world in less than a year. I thought about doctors' appointments, eating better, preparing The Bun, all that stuff.
But it's OK. It's not our time yet. And the lesson to be learned from all this? You really should download the app. It's pretty cool.

Love

I don't need no stinkin' Valentine's Day to feel the love.
It does, however, remind me how blessed I am. Here's the thing. I know myself. I'm happier in a relationship. I'm terrible at getting out there and I'm awful at dating. But I also would rather be by myself than be in a relationship for the mere sake of having someone. I was a late bloomer - I didn't date in high school and then I was in two serious, long-term relationships. Since my current relationship is the second one, and since this year will mark a decade with The Man, one would argue that I've never been by myself or only very briefly. But I have, for the first 17 years in my life and roughly two years between my two serious relationships.
This is why I count myself blessed. I know how hard it is to find a person. And as someone who doesn't believe in games, or in complicated, torrid yet romantic relationships, I very well could still be single if I hadn't met The Man. Because he has taught me a lot. Our relationship has taught me a lot. A few gems:
1. Love isn't complicated.
I don't care what anyone says. You figure out a way to uncomplicate it. You stop seeing other people. You don't keep other relationships that would enable you to cheat. You make time if you really want to make time. You truly can figure it out. And if it's that complicated, is it real love? Because very rarely is it the two of you against the world. It's you two against each other that makes it heart breaking and exhausting.
2. Falling in love is easy. It's staying in love that take work.
Love takes a lot of effort whereas falling in love can almost be effortless. Love takes patience, consideration, forgiveness and a plethora of other things that require you to rise above and be a better person. You have to figure out how to be content without taking the person or your relationship for granted. This is pretty tricky and, honestly, I work on this constantly. Why? Because love takes work! Like how I brought it back to my hypothesis?
3. When you're in love, the person still turns you on & simultaneously melts your heart years later
I'm hoping that this stands the test of time. I think The Man is quite hubba-hubba and after all these years, he still floats my boat. I still sometimes look at him and am amazed I captured his interest because he surely could have had anyone. He's smart, kind, handsome and successful. Come to find out, he's an excellent family man, too. I am over-the-moon in love with The Man.
So, on this overrated holiday, these are my thoughts about love. It's uncomplicated but it takes a lot of work. And if it's true, it's for life.

I'm not as granola as I thought.

Yoga is my outlet. Especially nowadays because my free time is limited and I've had to narrow my choices down. I go about once a week. I wish I could go twice but I take what I can get.
My point: My one class a week is precious to me. I know, I know, yoga is all about peace, love, harmony, acceptance and anything else good and loving. And I usually leave class feeling like I want to give a big bear hug to the earth because I feel one with the universe. (It's true.)
But when something disrupts my practice, I get irritable. I mean, really irritable. Quite frankly, there is this huge internal battle going on in my head. I'm upset because this time is extremely precious to me - I am doing one of my favorite things with one of my favorite teachers in my favorite studio. It's damn near perfect. But the perfection is disrupted by a hostile invasion. Well, just about any invasion is hostile which is why I'm irritable. Anyway, the other side of me, the yogini who wants to be loving and accepting, is upset with my irritable side for being upset. I mean, how hypocritical of me! Acceptance means to be accepting of everything because aren't we all striving for the same goal? To have a beautiful moment through yoga? Isn't this a semi-public space? (Open to all but you do have to pay.) Aren't we about peace and harmony???
Let me set up the picture for you.
I try to arrive 5 to 10 minutes early because the class fills up. I'm somewhat a creature of habit and like a certain spot in the room. I also like my space. What I like about my studio, and hope doesn't change, is that there is usually enough room for everyone without having to be so close are mats touch. I don't need too much personal space but I can't have the person next to me sweat on my mat. Feel free to refer to this entry if you need a refresher about my feelings on bodily fluids. I also like being close to the mirror so I can check if my alignment or poses are off. I know, I know, some yoga buffs think mirrors are for vanity and maybe they are but I think they're great for self-correcting, too.
Anyhoo.
My instructor promptly started the class on time and three minutes into it, I see HIM walk in. Keep in mind, I wouldn't even focus on or judge him except he, in just a few seconds, will greatly affect my yoga experience. HIM. This slender, decent looking guy who strutted in the class a few minutes late. He was without a shirt and wearing tie-die snug yoga pants. Not too snug but obviously meant for some serious yoga. OK. The shirt thing - well, I do have a preconceived notion about those who come into class shirtless or wearing a sports bra (cocky moh fohs) but I try to keep it in check. My instructor taped me on the shoulder and said, "I'm sorry to interrupt you but could you make room for _____?" (I forgot his name but, to be nice, I probably wouldn't put it in this entry, anyway.)
I begrudgingly made room. As I shift over, I have an obstructed view of the mirror. Damn. Dude rolled out his mat and joined us in downward dog. I should state that he looks like a poster boy for Vegan-ism. What does that look like? Well, I know Vegans. And they don't necessarily look like Dude. But he is what I imagine a Vegan would look like. Very Berkeley-esque. Huh?? If you're a Northern Californian, I could probably stop there. But let me go into further detail for you other folks. He had rumpled hair and he was very natural looking. He kind of looked like he just rolled out of bed. Since he was shirtless, I could see that he had hair on his chest as well as his back. And the tie-dye yoga pants just sort of sealed the deal.
So he went into downward dog. I instantly smelled a smell. Not pungent but definitely body odor. If you don't know what I mean, you are blessed. It wasn't like he was homeless but I don't know when Dude took his last shower. Or perhaps he just didn't believe in deodorant. Don't get me started on the whole "believing" thing. Either you use it or you don't. There's nothing to believe in. It exists! In any case, his natural smell easily wafted over to my mat.
Awesome.
But then CHECK THIS OUT. A couple minutes later, I was accosted by the smell of spicy sausage. Wait. WHAT??? No, that must have been accident. Wait, did it just happen again?! Did someone eat a polish sausage right before class? Oh-hell-to-the-no.
Obviously it was presumptuous of me to conclude that Dude was a Vegan. I honestly don't care if you are or are not. Unless you are affecting my restaurant choices because we're eating together. But you dared to eat spicy sausage before a Yoga class and now are burping?????? You strut in late, shirtless and aromatic, force me to move my mat over and are now overwhelming my sense of smell???? How DARE YOU.
Oh yes. Dude proceeded to intermittently expel silent but deadly burps throughout the entire yoga class. I never knew when I was going to be accosted by the spicy sausage smell or the light BO smell.
Ruined. My yoga class was ruined.
The love and peace side chastised my conservative with thoughts like, "Did he ruin it or did you ruin your experience because you refused to simply ignore and move past this challenge? Maybe you're too conservative and uptight." I tried! I promise I really tried!!! I was within two feet of someone with body order and spicy sausage burps!!!!!
When I came home, The Man said he could instantly tell that something went awry in class. When I told him, he sympathized and agreed that those challenges were simply too hard to ignore.
I see the humor. Which is why I'm sharing it with you. But dammit if my yoga practice didn't get bamboozled by a hairy, unpleasant smelling, spicy sausage-lovin' yogi.