Freedom
The kids’ winter break starts on Friday. I am mentally preparing as if I am going to war, which I am, sort of.
I am stock piling all of my patience and ideas for fun so that I can be a good mama instead of channeling Joan Crawford in Mommy Dearest. Peter’s vacation starts on the 22nd so luckily I don’t have much solo time.
Sigh…
So, today I will finish (and by “finish” I mean “start”) shopping for Christmas. Shouldn’t be too bad. I am trying to shop local so I’ll hit up the local toy store and book store and call it a day. The kids are only getting a few things. They don’t need more crap. (Although, I would by lying if I said I wasn’t OVER THE MOON excited about Finn getting an Easy Bake Oven. I will be his best customer.)
Yesterday, I went to my usual lunch hour yoga class. I felt murderous during the whole thing. Amped up and anxious. Tense. Ready to bite flesh or get in a fight.
This is not the norm.
The reason?
The instructor, a lovely woman who is a perfectly great yoga instructor, played FUCKING KENNY G THE WHOLE TIME.
THE WHOLE TIME.
THE WHOLE TIME.
Did I say the whole time?
An HOUR of Kenny G.
As I sat on my mat stretching and waiting for class to begin, I calmed myself down by saying ‘Surely, she’ll switch the music when she starts class. Don’t worry.” (The studio is known for great music that complements the practice.)
I have a physical reaction to Kenny G. I don’t find him relaxing or soothing or Zen.
That soprano saxophone gets into my brain and digs around like a raccoon in a garbage can, pulling out the most negative thoughts and riddling my body with malevolence. And then on some of the songs, he would sing. I audibly grunted a few times. My desire to flee was so strong that I almost grabbed my shit and left. But the class was super full and I didn’t want to ruin anyone else’s practice.
At the end of class, I stayed in savasana all of 10 seconds before I literally sprinted from the class to the safety of my car.
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5 comments:
for the love of god, kenny g???? I would have just f-ing died. you are so brave for sticking it out.
Laughed out loud when you said you were going to finish Christmas shopping. And by "finish", you meant "start".
And Kenny G is just plain wrong. I think I may have met him. Or maybe someone else did but I transferred myself into that memory. Regardless, I have a very strong feeling when someone mentions him. Like I've met him. (That might just be the weirdest thing to say out loud, or type out loud in this case.)
Love you.
Casey is getting an easy bake too! Sorry your yoga class sucked.
Kenny G is so gross. That damn sax sounds like whining. How could anyone think that his crap is relaxing?
No.
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