On the first icy morning of 2011, I woke up feeling fuzzy and slightly off-balance. It might have had something to do with this:
Oh yeah, and these:
All those sugar crystals and champagne bubbles and happy-celebration molecules joined together in one big New Year's Eve conga line in my brain, and while they had a heck of a time doing so, they also knocked over a few vases and bookshleves in the process. So there I was, once again saying to myself, "Self! You are tired and not awake! Yet you must get to your 10:00 a.m. yoga class to welcome in 2011 in time to make a beautiful New Year's Day brunch before you start tackling each item on your New Year's resolution list!"
Of course it was already 11:30 a.m. ... so I was at least an hour and half behind on my grandiose plans for New Year's Day. Paralyzed by New Year's anxiety (and some holiday post-partum depression) I was just about to throw in the towl on the whole day, when I realized there was still one yoga class scheduled for 2:30. I grabbed my mat, my water bottle, and sprinted out the door just in time for the opening "om."
As I saluted and chataranga-ed, warriored and twisted, all those rebellious little party molecules that were still singing karoake started to get sleepy and lay down for a post-New Year's Eve nap. I rocked back and forth, rocked my body back into balance, and in doing so remembered that I didn't have to get everything done today. I had 364 days and 9 hours to make all my dreams for 2011 come true.