It’s a strange word to say.  My sister, Marla, and I get stuck on it every time.  We know it as a German word and are thus inclined to pronounce it as such.  I think we’re the only ones.  So in attempt to fit in but still stay true to our roots, we end up stumbling and stuttering.  But here we are……

morning yoga

It’s lovely. It’s the desert.  It’s warm and dry and sunny.

We spent our first few hours here in Squaw Valley with Rusty. He made sure we wouldn’t forget about him the rest of the weekend – his spirit taking up residence in our hamstrings.  I mean really, Rusty, I love you always and don’t need to reminded of you every step I take and every forward bend I fold into.  Wince….

The evening ended with red wine and Pretty Lights.  If Rusty dwells in my hamstrings today, Pretty Lights dwells in my heart.

I’ve got 2 days left.  I wonder who will possess me next….

Here is what seemed popular from last night’s class:

Inside by Wade Imre Morissette

Om Namo Naryana by Manish Vyas

Antare Mandire by Rasa

Om Namo Shivaya by Donna de Lory

Have a fab weekend.