I know this is the Weather Channel’s first year of naming winter storms, but their christeners need some guidance. Who names a storm Yogi? Yogis are peaceful and calm, right? They might as well have named this one Yanni. Well, the young 1980’s Yanni that is; the one with the long hair and mustache vs. the currently well-aged Yanni with shorter graying hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. You be the judge.
On second thought, Yogis tend to be on a path toward something. It’s just that I would envision that path covered with rose petals and neatly stacked stones, rather than ice, slush and snow. Oh wait, I’m really digging my igloo floor deeper aren’t I? My yogic path has certainly veered toward the latter.
I tried to outrun winter storm Yogi by temporarily relocating 4 hours east for a vacation. But the calendar caught up with me and I had to return home to Atlanta where Yogi’s residuals are hitting us hard. Driving rain and sweatshirt temps are in the forecast (what is driving rain anyway?). Whatever the Weather Channel’s reason for selecting the name Yogi, little Miss Tipsy is taking it as a sign; a sign to get her yogic crap together. You know, one of those “I’ll start tomorrow on a whole bunch of good habits” type of sign. Only problem, I already voiced some of these “new habit” thoughts out loud and proud to Doc B. What was I thinking? Now I’m going to have to go through with the plan. And the most significant part of the plan is to NOT drink alcohol until (at least) my 49th birthday. And by no alcohol, I mean no rubbing or Nyquil. I haven’t decided if it means Marsala marinades, Kombucha or NA beer – after all, a girl’s gotta have something to look forward to on her sure-to-be-bumpy yogic path.
So here’s what I’m thinking. Quit the alcohol side of Tipsy Yogi starting on 4/24/13 which is 5 months until my 49th birthday. It’s also a Wednesday so it’s not the usual Monday start of a crazy plan such as this. Then, besides the no drinking thing, I’ll try to add a different good habit every couple of weeks during the 5 months. Things like flossing at least once a day, wearing my mouth guard at night no matter how cute I look in it, making healthful meal selections when possible and resisting the urge to watch Dirty Dancing and The Devil Wears Prada every time they’re on.
I figure that in 5 months, I’ll be able to lose some pounds, learn to love club soda with lime, read voraciously (does anyone read any other way?), write prolifically (does anyone write any other way?), better focus on my yoga, attend my first meditation retreat without feeling the need to stash a bottle a vodka in my suitcase, and at a minimum, I’ll have so much clarity that I’ll be able to answer the following ice-melting questions:
- Why the H – E – double stripper poles did I agree to go on a meditation retreat in the first place?
- Why do the cats insist on using the litter box right after I’ve scooped it?
- Why can’t I stop giggling at the new K-Mart shipping commercial?
- Why can’t I consistently roll-up correctly in assisted backbends?
- Why do I feel like a guilty bank robber when presenting a roll of pennies to a Wells Fargo teller knowing that I snuck a Canadian coin right in the middle of it?
- Why is it that after two beers I can play pool or bowl really well but after three beers I go downhill?
- Is Led Zeppelin right? Is there “…still time to change the road you’re on?
- Will the lady at the wine store miss me? And would she think awful of me that when a telemarketer calls I answer by saying “Shangri-La Take Out” in a faked Chinese accent?
- How many times will my mom put up with me asking her to demonstrate how to fold a fitted sheet?
- Why must I be present to win?
And as I make my way to Wednesday, April 24th, I send virtual Georgia Peaches and loving kindness to Massachusetts, Texas, and any of you reading this who are experiencing rough times. Thanks for reading and following.