No Yoga For Me Today

After I found out last night that this morning's "mixed levels" is more strenuous than the "beginner" that had me sweating last night I thought it'd be smart to take a pass since I would need to go straight to work from the yoga studio, not home to take a shower.  Ewww, that would be bad.  We have few enough customers (I had none yesterday) without me stinking up the place all day.  My friend Z-Dawg came too and remembered how much yoga settles your mind and exercises your body.  It was good to see her after so long, maybe she'll come back.  And I'll be working all day tomorrow since Mrs. Boss will be off to Idaho to see her mom so no yoga on Friday.  But there will be yoga on Saturday.  Ahhh.  And on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday and Friday (because I'm not working next Friday) next week too.  And of course Saturday because I don't work on Saturday unless the sky is falling and never (nevernevernever) on Sunday but I won't be yog-ing then either.  I have to draw the line somewhere, but I'm determined to wring as many classes out of my thirty bucks for thirty days as I can.  Some may call it cheap, I call it frugal, also it gets me up and moving so maybe I'm making a habit.  That'd be very good, don't you think?

Durwood had another 5 quart batch of tomato soup ready to be canned last night when I got home.  He says he's got enough tomatoes for one more batch before he has to buy more tomatoes from Sunny Hill Farm.  I know he plans to make more, there're 2 more dozen new quart jars sitting here and there are a blue million pint jars downstairs (at least 4 dozen) just waiting for soup to be pour into their wide mouths.  This division of labor is working well; he's making the soup and keeping it warm in the oven (no danger of it scorching on the pot bottom that way) til I get home, then after supper I fire up the canning kettle, get the water near to boiling, heat the lids (oh, I got the handiest gadget last year at the end of the season; it's a plastic stick with a little magnet on the end that picks the lids up out of the hot water so you don't burn your fingers.  genius!), fill the jars, and process them for 15 minutes, et voila! tomato soup appears ready for warming him up in the middle of winter.

(man, I'm distractable this morning.  I need to get a move on.)  I harvested ripe tomatoes from the garden this morning and there's a clump of blossoms on the hummingbird vine, finally, also I found a place to take a sunset picture last night, next to the dumpster in the parking lot behind our house.  It has nice elevation so the trees aren't in the way as much.  There was even the moon.

September 12--Francisco de Goya y Lucientes, Manuel Osorio Manrique de Zuniga.  Manny liked birds.  He liked them a lot.  He had finches in cages and a magpie that his nurse would tie a string on one of its legs and then Manny could fly it like a kite.  The magpie liked shiny things.  It picked up jewelry and silverware, pens and shiny stones.  Manny kept a box with what he thought of as "the magpie collection" in a box under his bed.  As much as Manny liked his birds, the cats, Perro and Chat, liked them more.  They crouched like furry sphinxes next to the cage, their yellow eyes never leaving the small feather delights behind bars.

Oh, it's nearly 8:30.  I gotta hustle.  See you.
-Barbara