Saturday morning yoga

We woke up early today, early for a Saturday, a day I don’t have to be at work until 1 in the afternoon. A day when every hen night decides it would be funny to go into a sex shop to try to buy willies on a stick. Sorry gals, not our store. We can, however, show you how to tie and gag your man while wearing a butt plug. They scamper away, with their little devil horns and their matching t-shirts: “Sasha’s girls” “Bride to be” written on the front. So yeah, we woke up early. We did some yoga and I couldn’t help but think of how awesome it is doing physical things together, besides sex. We went for a swim yesterday. Usually this means we do a few laps and then we mill around with D pulling me behind him and tossing me about like I am a waif. This time, I went to the fast lane and he to the slow. We swam for a half an hour without talking to each other, then managed to leave the pool together without much side tracked shenanigans. We can be serious when we need to be.

This week has been magical for me. Louis died 3 years ago this week. During this week I have had to question my stability and at times I have cried hard. I do like the change in our schedule. I like the earlier mornings. I like looking across the lane ropes and seeing him all wet and glistening, water half way up one goggle and the splish splash of his arms and legs amongst the senior citizens. I wish Louis was alive so I could share some of this with him. He would like D.

A typical day alone which is not typical at all

My eyes open to the brightness of the room. The new crisp cotton sheets that we spent some of our wedding money on are wrapped around me, twisted around me. I am laying horizontally on the bed. Even in my sleep I knew I didn’t need to share. I wrap my hair in a bun, put on my housecoat and go to the kitchen to start a coffee. I cut up strawberries and put them in my bowl. A banana. A scoop of homemade granola. A scoop of vanilla yogurt. A spoon of sugar in my mug. A single serving of coffee. I pour in milk and realize it has gone off.

Between reading emails I do chores. We have two bonsais which I have taken on as my personal care projects. I have mentioned we live in a jungle, our flat covered by large yuccas that surround the room with their palm branches. Our kitchen is laced with pots and soil. Basil grows strong in the windows. They are his children. The wee trees are mine. I touch their mossy soil to see if they are wet. I trim areas that need trimming and bring them into the bathroom. Placing them in the tub I shower them with lukewarm water. The smell of forest floor wafts to my nose. I notice our temperamental tree has a flower. Putting them back in the bedroom I smile at the shadows they cast on the walls. I must be doing something right.

I put on my tights, a bra and a tank top. I gather my blocks and my yoga mats. I sweep the floor, take off my rings, my glasses and look out to the sea. I remind myself to be patient with my body and to be happy for the love I am about to give it. I go through my practice and wonder if it is time to hire someone to give me some one on one time. I wonder if my practice is stagnant. I roll the mats up when I am done and look around the room. There is a lot to tidy and I wonder where to start. I prepare what is essential for my clients this afternoon, linens, oils, music. I trim my nails, file them down. I tidy. I prepare. I sit and blog so that in years from now I will have some concept of what my life is like in this moment. This moment that may not mean anything to someone else but a moment that is about to change significantly. It is almost here. As I gather up empty wine bottles and random threads from a sewing project I just finished I check on the quinoa and broccoli I am cooking on the stove. It is almost lunch. Then it is almost time for work. Then it almost time for my man to come home. Love.

Dave Matthews is on as Nag Champa incense flows in small ringlet curls by the window. There is a sailboat and two crotch rocket jet skis breaking up the blue horizon. Xavier Rudd is on now, I sip my coffee. I talked of reoccurring dreams with my brother last night on IM. I have two dreams that come back time and again. One is that I pop a pimple and the pus turns into a branch. The branch grows and each time I touch it, it grows more. I have been having this dream since I was a teenager.

The other, that perhaps I have mentioned before, involves me falling in love with someone.. or the beginning stages of love anyhow. Then having the realization that I am already married and the disappointment in myself for leading the person on. I had a dream like that last night only this time I was pursuing the man instead of the man pursuing me. I remember putting my hand on his chest and feeling the heat of him through his shirt. What kind of dream detail is that? An erotic one, if I am to judge my waking thoughts.

Dreams are funny. They linger for a period of time and they feel real but then, over the day they drift away. This one has taken a bit longer to let go of, but that is probably due to the fact that I spent the day selling toys to help people with their sexual expression. This post is going no where but to the bedroom. Sorry.

Blast from the past

A little Irish birdie that I was once smitten with contacted me the other day. Or did I contact him? Either way, he was online. It has been about a year since I last talked to him, the Irish doctor that broke my heart, but basically it was he who primed me for my current love. I feel a little in debt to him for that. That aside, a lot has changed for me in the past year... but not for him. He is still with the woman who he chose to end our situation over. Same job. Same immigration issues. Same dumb smiley face icon that used to make me giggle. It is nice to know, in a strange way. I like to think that his consistency would have been our end, had he not chosen to end it himself. Part of me wants to rub in my own happiness. Part of me smarts over the fact that I was the dumpee instead of the dumper. We wouldn't have ever worked for anything more than what we had. One of these empty conversations will be our last. Perhaps this will be it.

I see you...

soon there will be photos... but first:

We are back. Back to what, that is the question. When you put so much energy into one month it is near impossible not to evaluate your life as a whole afterwards. One thing that I walked away from South Africa with is a sense of urgency towards happiness. During my trip we spent a lot of time with a man who is very passionate about his job. I found this really inspiring as I am not passionate about any of mine. In fact I rather dislike working. It is an interesting place to be, at this stage of the game. I am evaluating my job situation and my husbands job situation and we both come very short of any sort of future security. It is hard to think of what to do in the long run because if I were to retrain in a new avenue I would not only be adding to my substantial debt but I would find myself either having a child mid-schooling or waiting until the later part of my 30’s to do so. My back doesn’t think that is the best idea. I find that I am stuck in this way of evaluating my life at the moment. It means many core things are going to change sooner rather than later.