El Método Pilates

My current lack of facebook posts might have you convinced that I am fat, and although I am suffering from the effects of second-hand sugar, I promise I can still get my spandex over my rear end.  Donning said attire, I make my way three mornings a week to the Pilates studio around the corner, where I bend, contort, breathe and balance my way through a class.  It is also a good Spanish lesson, as I can now confidently recognize the phrase “No Jacqueline, not like that.  You are doing it wrong”.

I believe that every mother eventually realizes that her children have, in fact, heard every word that she’s said, and that they just don’t care.  Apparently, I am proof that it is possible to grow old and not grow wise.  Lately, my goal as a mom is simply to do no harm, but I don’t know that I always succeed.  Today, sensing that the girls need some space, I’ve locked them outside.

My favorite Pilates move is the “child’s pose”, where you just sit back on your rear and relax.  It takes absolutely no effort and even I can’t do it wrong.  I rest in this humble position, with my forehead on the floor, knowing that there is more instruction (and more correction) soon to come, but that for a moment, I can just be.  I don’t have the core strength to constantly be in balance, and while I will continue to work on being both physically and mentally flexible, sometimes I just need to pause.  I need a day with nothing but my spandex holding me together.

Why are we so hard on ourselves as mothers?  What is it that we think is supposed to be happening that isn’t? Why do we allow small preoccupations to dominate our thoughts?  Why can’t my Pilates instructor just let me be?  And what the heck is that incessant knocking at the door?

Today I am going to do things my way, and that might not be someone else’s way, but it is not wrong.

La amistad

Fall is finally here and although I hate shopping, I love buying, and I am encouraged to know that relief from the heat is coming when I see sweaters in the store windows.  My new Spanish classes bring me once again to Calle Colon and the throngs of women in high heel shoes managing the cobble stone sidewalk.  I smile not only because I secretly expect to see one fall, but also because I want look as cool as they are holding all those shopping bags.

I am also a little jealous of them hanging out with friends. Laughing, drinking, gossiping and spending money are what make the world go around, and what is sad and pathetic when done alone, is super fun and “chulo” when done with others.  I’ve been introspective and contemplative for three months now, and its time to come up to shallower waters.  But to be clear, I don’t just want friends for partying and shopping.  Oh wait, yes I do. 

The best feeling is laughing with friends until you just can’t breathe and maybe even pee a little bit.  That laughter through tears thing rocks too.  But developing the deep friendships you need to pull this off takes time, opportunity, and perhaps a bit more personality than I can buy.  Laughter cleanses the soul, and as much as I’ve come to enjoy the noise it makes when it is quiet around here, I long for the howl of a good, wet belly laugh. 

My life, which is based on a true story, is full of people I adore.  One of who is coming to see me in a month and I simply can’t wait.  Jenni is the type of person who loves me for what others judge me for, and likes beer, so she is near perfect.  I am planning our trip, detoxing my body, and shopping for shoes that will take me from bar to store to museum and back again.   So I am headed to Colon, and if I don’t come back, please put my picture on the back of a bottle of wine so my friends will know to look for me.

How I feel when I think about my friends…

The Gym Super Vibro Max

 It is time to talk about the elephant in the room.

Yes, I mean that big, grey eyesore that serves no obvious purpose than comic relief.  We want to move it, but similar to a large animal or a bathroom scale, it just won’t budge.  True to most home exercise equipment, it does make a decent clothes rack, but it just stinks that it is always in my way.

I’m just going say it:  Valencia smells. The scent of fresh baked bread from the bakery next door is drowned out by car fumes and construction dust. I daydream of the scent of orange blossoms in the spring air but am choking on the smell of trash bins and second hand smoke.  And after three months in the same clothes, I am little ripe myself so I went out shopping for a fun skirt and found a really great handbag so I bought a new shirt.

I love the smell of a good rainstorm, and that is what has greeted us almost every day for a week.  Rain in Valencia is typically scarce, but we’ve been blessed with cool nights and freshly washed air.  Rain makes me contemplative, and as I wait for thoughts to grow, I realize how bohemian my life is here.  Everyday lies out like someday and I am living my dream.   I feel like I should go barefoot, wear flowers in my hair and learn how to play the harmonica.  Life is what you make it, and even on these grey days, I feel very fortunate.  Or maybe it’s my new lucky shirt.     

In some cultures, elephants are a sign of happiness, longevity and good luck.  But they smell.  So you have to take the good with the bad, the ups with the downs, and the perfume with the stench.  Today I am headed to the city center, where the fragrances are the most potent.  But it does not matter, because I plan on stopping along the way to smell the roses.

The Gym Super Vibro Max - Shaking your way to a healthier you.  Or not.