Long Lost Yoga

I used to practice yoga, a lot of yoga. There was a time in my life when I went to four yoga classes a week. There was time after that when two times a week, I showed up in Joan White's attic for her intense Iyengar classes. Then I had kids and the collection of spare parts that comprise my body started getting very cranky, first about no yoga and then about any yoga. So Saturday, I took my daughter to a "family yoga" class -- a class for kids and grown-ups. She LOVED it, in spite of some not stellar parenting on my part. (As in: "Helen! Stop playing with your hair-thingy!" This was forty minutes into the class, even I was a little bored.) But can I just say? After the kids yoga class with its two sun salutations and three L-shaped handstands against the wall, I'm sore. That's just too sad.