You Don’t Want Keyser Soze’s Sun Salutation.

Today, a food blogger’s nightmare happened. My pictures were uploaded incorrectly into my computer, deleted off of my camera, and now they’re gone. Poof. Into the ether. I stayed surprisingly calm. I think that it was mostly because my son was telling me all about how he wants to see a monster with “big eyes, a round tummy, and tiny wings.” I have no idea where he got this idea, but he was pretty insistent that it exists. When your four year old has you giggling, it’s hard  to get mad about pictures of stuffed mushrooms.

Yesterday was my active rest day. Generally, it’s my least favorite day of the week. As I have said before, I run to keep the crazy at bay, and to help me from being consumed by my ADHD. Yesterday however, was bliss. The family and I headed out to hipster heaven: Rockaway Beach in Queens, and did our best to prevent the peanut from eating a bucket’s worth of  sand. We weren’t entirely successful. What in the hell makes kids think sand is a good thing to eat? Is it the same thing that draws adults to eat meat on the bone? Because, really? They’re both equally unappealing to me.

The crazy thing is that after running back and forth to the water for a few hours, dodging old, half-naked men with chest hair long enough to require styling products, walking to the grocery store more times than I should have had to, and then trying out a yoga dvd, I was EXHAUSTED. I barely held my eyes open to watch “True Blood” (there was no Alcide nudie pantsedness this week, so it was harder to manage)….By the way, Bex assures me that I do not need to start eating placenta, chanting in a dead language to the ghost of Bob Marley, or neglect shaving under my arms to do yoga. I just have to be willing to contort into odd positions and wear yoga pants all day..DONE. Apparently, eating placenta is optional, and you can chant to any deity or dead rock/reggae star you wish.

Can I chant to coffee? Does thinking about caffeine whilst your meant to be centering yourself defeat the purpose? Can I do yoga while watching “The Usual Suspects”? Is it bad if I already did? I think Keyser Soze likes pigeon pose the best.

The sheer level of my exhaustion last night, and the ease at which I arose this morning drilled home a basic truth to me; all movement is exercise. It doesn’t need to be running or MMA or pole dancing, it can be digging holes in the sand with the Captain and the Peanut, and then walking all over G-d’s green earth looking for specific ingredients for stuffed mushrooms that you’ll eventually lose the pictures of. They both worked up a sweat, and both were curiously more fun than the days I want to spear myself in the eye with a compass while on the elliptical. (I really want to add a very nerdy, and cheesy joke, but I’ll refrain. You already know I have thing for studying medical anthropology…I don’t need to compound my nerdom.)

I always say “Sweat a little, a lot”, and sometimes I forget my own message. Sometimes I have to sweat with my little ones to remember it. So, while I’m back to pretending to be chased down the road by a group of possessed Amish people carrying hammers for 9 miles tonight; it’s good to remember that sometimes, the tyrants at home are the best ones to keep your heart rate accelerated. If I really want a boost, I can always just pick a fight with the cop. I EXCEL in that. I really shine. Truly. It’s a gift.

How was your weekend?

How did you spend it?