Here is another item that I need to add to my New Year resolutions. It is so simple we all forget to do it: Let’s Mind Our Own Business and keep out of everyone else’s.

I do not have to comment on everything I see online or in real life. Depending on whose business you barged into uninvited, the reaction can be graceful  or just plain bat shit crazy. I experienced both today.

Graceful: a thoughtful email with an explanation that was not owed to me.

Bat Shit: SUV owner at Walter Stewart’s market when I asked if I could take a photo of her Bernie sticker since it was my first one in NEW CANAAN where the GOP rules (I did not say the GOP part aloud because I am not an idiot all the time). She said absolutely not. It was done without her consent and her son did it to aggravate her and she is mortified, so no.

I joined Camp Calm for the month of January. It is led by my cyber friend David Cain. Details are here and maybe I will emerge as a less verbal observer.


Keeping it Simple

My most successful ( maybe my only) New Year resolution was to not use a paper cup to drink my coffee. If I was to have any it was going to be in a real cup sitting down ( or at the counter). I think I am ready to handle not using a single plastic bag next year. I am pretty good at having a canvas bag in the car or taking one when I’ll be walking, but sometimes I’m caught empty handed. I am also going to have to curb my amazon habit because those plastic bubbly things will probably erase any effort I make on curbing the plastic bag entry to my home.

Other attainable goals but no fuss if I bail or stumble:

Not being upset at being perceived as the bad guy. It’s okay if you did not like what I said or did if it was the best I could do without compromising my well being.

Sleeping when I am sleepy, not when the clock says I should sleep. It turns out I cannot sleep well between 10PM and 4AM. Even with no screen time right before, ashwaganda, lavender, spray, no food after 6PM, etc. I sleep like a baby between 4AM and 8AM.  So I am not practicing before 9 AM most days which means I make it into the mysore slot on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays, and it is a led or a home practice the other three days. Would I like it if my rhythm went back to how it used to be? Hell yeah, but I’m glad I don’t have to treat my practice like if it was a clock punching job. I don’t have to do battle against this.


There Will be Days Like This One

Happy to know that 108  evening sun salutations still involve a lot of sweating but no longer involves discomfort and provide a great night’s sleep.

Not so happy to know that they aggravated my newly acquired case of sciatica.

Disgusted but not surprised that nobody is the blame for Sandra Bland’s death in Texas.

60 degrees on December 22nd probably means that my obsession with dystopian fiction and film is probably intuitive preparation.

My house is in order, and I have not a single creative idea, or any desire to read text today so I will stand and walk in place (sciatica) while I binge watch the entire season of this:


I will also make either popovers or pecan balls as my source of sustenance today.


Claim Your Space

My friend  Kira Goldenberg just shared this on her twitter feed and I am aghast and enraged. Why? Because I trained my own daughter to give up her space  and choose avoidance in the name of manners, politeness and staying safe. I really felt like punching something. It is raining but it is the perfect time to use that punch inducing energy to walk in a straight line like I belong and see how many people I bump into. Please do not mistake this manifesto as opposing the logic of  weaving through pedestrian traffic in a tourist filled environment, rush hour, or when High Schools let their students out into subway stations. I taught Mag how to do that too and we are both impressive to watch in action.  I  will come back with provisions for cookies and soup.

I Recommend

here are a bunch of things that made my life better this year in no particular order.

Learn to mix a good cocktail. My friend Sonya  Wilcox posted a photo of the sexiest cocktail I ever saw and I had to have it, and after that I had to learn how to make it and now everyone that I make one for LOVES ME even more. Here is the recipe for an amaretto sour (don’t mind the loudness of the site, his is really the best).

Accept the free cardboard gadget. As much as a whine about the NYT they offered their subscribers this nytvr and it has become my home”s favorite party trick. Fortune magazine said it gave some people double vision but my 92 year old aunt had a blast.

Go to India. I don’t know if I would recommend it if you have only used your passport to go to the Caribbean, but it really is the closest you will come to the adventures you dreamed of as  bold 10 year old.

Remove (donate/sell/recycle) all manuals, travel guides, and  office or school supplies that you think you will use again someday. Except coloring pencils/markers (unless they are really old. More on that later) I finally recycled (nobody wants them and they change every damn year) all my teaching manuals, and teaching notes because I finally believe I won’t have to go back. Now I have a brand new Liquor cabinet, because crazy over here had been keeping all her booze (not the wine) on the cabinet on top of the stove vents because of course that is such a safe spot for alcohol.


Enjoy adult coloring books. Mel Perkins clued me in and it is just the same exact pleasure I recall experiencing as a child. If you do not have color pencils, pretend you had two 16 0z lattes and buy some.

Inside Out was a good movie.

Aziz Ansari’s Netflix show -Master of None is my new favorite and not just because of the foodie connection. I am also hooked on Continuum (also a Mel P. find) but only because I am a sci-fi dork and love Canadian TV series.

Read this blog when you need a break from the reel your mind has been playing without interruption.

And I don’t care what you say, I will stop whatever I’m doing to strut to Uptown Funk.



Self Steam

I know it is SELF ESTEEM but once I overheard a Panamanian colleague with a heavy accent tell her first graders that they should develop self steam like in the story of the Little Engine that Could. I later and in private told her about the E parts and she was mortified but I told her that her analogy was pretty good. Anyway, something really scary happened  to me this morning. My driveway descends right into a busy state route which is the fastest way into town and to the MetroNorth station. Needless to say, it is pretty busy at 7:30 AM. As I am backing out on a slight incline, my breaks stop working and the engine stops and I spill into two way traffic, cars dodge me somehow, and I end up inches from the giant tree in my neighbor’s front yard across the street. During those moments of sheer panic, My only thoughts were: Those drivers are going to be so mad if I bang their car, They must think I’m an idiot. Ray is going to be so upset, I’m going to ruin Mag’s Costa Rica Vacation if I get hurt.Thank goodness I did not total my neighbor’s fence.Not a single thought dedicated to I hope I’m alright, or I don’t want to get hurt. My car would not start after several tries until all of a sudden it did. My first impulse was to pull back into the driveway, go inside and never come out again, But instead I turned left and headed for the shala because I knew it would take days for me to turn back the ignition again if I got out of the car then. Maybe half a dozen dangerous or horrible comparable and sometimes emotionally worse episodes than this one have happened to me so far but I never tell anyone. I did not tell my parents when I lived at home, Did not tell my roommates when I lived with them, or my coworkers. Today I am going to tell everyone. Maybe that way I will start caring about what happens to me first and right after that worry about how inconvenienced everyone else is going to be.


May this be the only time ever that a write the word fascism in a blog entry. Right after typing that, I remembered that the latest tidbit he fed the media was about calling Bill Gates about shutting the internet for a short time and now I have to take it back. I just want to come out and say that I have moments of compassion for this woman Ivanka Trump. I have a father who in moments of impatience yelled many times that we needed the military to take over during the many psychotic periods in the recent history of what I  and others affectionately call Locolombia. On my first trip to Spain when I was 9 or 10, he explained to me that thanks to Franco I could walk the streets of Madrid at 2 AM in the morning and nothing would happen to me. His thoughts shame me but I cannot stop loving him. During the Bush years I felt compassion for those girls who felt love for a dad who was an idiot but he was their dad. And it is not just old dads or moms of a certain age. I have in laws who are my age who will vote for a fascist (they may not know what the word means and fight real hard for their right not to have to look it up) but they will vote for one. My point here is that it is useless to feel superiority or derision for those people who are fascinated by violent protectors. Or by feeling  safe and secure that we the sane ones are a majority. I saw this photo in the NYT this morning


The beatific smile of the lady with the scarf and the glasses in the background made me shudder. These are good people who will vote for a terrible future because the are terrified and will do whatever it takes not to confront the mistakes that we have made in our distant past or during our recent past. They are our moms our dads our uncles and co workers. Not that stereotypical guy with the screaming eagle tank top and a rifle. A clown can pose tremendous danger to our future. I hope he blinks ,for Ivanka’s sake and for ours.