Hit a Snake

IN YOUR CAR???

No - in the game of snakes-and-ladders-to-adulthood that is my life.

I left my passport on the plane yesterday.

That one at 87. That's the one I've hit.

I had learned to crack an egg with one hand, I responsibly books vet appointments, I do daily yoga and weekly laundry; I finished a chapter of my thesis last week; I handled my previous two travelling debacles with grace and stride; I go to bed by 10:00 and wake up at 5:50; I can make risotto.  

But. this. trumps. all.

Sheer forgetful idiocy with possibly the most important document a person can have.

I did somehow manage to make it to Palm Springs in the end (I left it in the seat pocket in front of me during my Montreal-San Francisco flight, from where on I just used my driver's license), though my bags are stuck in limbo in SanFran. And furthermore, I did all of this under the foolish delusion that one can look stylish while travelling; I wore my Stewart Weitzman wedges, which not only shortened my strides rather obnoxiously, but provided a hilarious contrast with the yowling creature I had in tow who peed all over herself (AGAIN!) before we had even checked in. It doesn't matter what you look like when you smell like cat piss. 

But apparently I don't need my passport to get back into Canada since I am driving - just my birth certificate and government i.d. And my bags - they are a 1 hour flight away, so I am not too bent out of shape. And She Ra is languidly making herself queen of this castle.

Thank you yoga instilled yen.

Speaking of, I meant to post, while in the flury of election fever, about my yoga class last Monday evening that was taught by Tracy from Moksha Yoga Halifax! I had been debating going to a second yoga class that day - I hadn't really done much that day, but I wanted to get a good night's sleep, and I had been up at 6:00 that morning to already go to a yoga class. After I finished waffling, I knew I would be much happier if I did go, and was I ever right. If you have never had the pleasure of practising at the Moksha studio in Halifax, you do not know the most lovely and warm-hearted woman in the world, Miss Tracy Duru. Her Moksha bio reads "When you meet Tracy she’ll offer you a smile to warm your heart and lighten your day. She loves what she does and you can tell. She shines." Well, it's true. And I am not always one who "takes yoga into your life," though I increasingly try to be seeing someone like Tracy who actually just always makes me happy to interact with. After the class, in which I just reflected back her amazing energy, pushing myself in postures in ways I never had, but with a newfound strength and groundedness, we hugged it out tons. There is just something so beautiful to me about this kind of love and trust that can be fostered in the yoga community. Tracy is leaving MYH soon, however, and opening her own studio in St. Catherine's Ontario, where she will do absolutely amazing. Much love and luck to her in her new endeavour.

Send some good karma my way, faithful readers - I think I need it.