Billy Blanks was in my living room punching the air inside my tv. *Mila* wanted to do yoga. As I watched her jump and wriggle I knew that trying to sit quietly and stretch my gluteus maximus in downward facing dog while she lay underneath me kicking my uterus was not a good idea. I don't need the uterus or anything. I just don't get a lot out of yoga with someone kicking me. Rodney Yee doesn't kick me. So, I stuck in a Billy Blanks video. Jump. Punch. Kick. Hop. Tae Bo yourself to bits, girl! *Mila* became more frustrated than a first time adult watching Billy Blanks. I started to think that sun salutations would have been easier for her. She didn't get anything out of Tae Bo other than "it's okay to punch and kick the air". Her energy level has not diminished. In fact it wound her up like a ball of energy. So she found a chopstick in the drawer and is now a maestro conducting her orchestra. Suma and I are the orchestra and I'm not sure what we are supposed to do. I think that its amusing when I jump around and dance, Suma jumps up on her wimpy legs and dances with me. When *Mila* does it, Suma's eyes roll to the back of her head and she sleeps the whole thing off. That's what I'd like to do today, roll my eyes towards the back of my head and repeat the chant Om Mani Ped Ne Hum until I sleep for 12 continuous hours. Somehow, I could only picture a chopstick piercing through my skull as I started the first Om. Next time, I'm going to leash the entire family up to the treadmill and force everyone to run 10 K.
signed, the willow.
signed, the willow.
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