I have a crash editing project to get through, so C. and I decided to meet on the early side for a quick sit on our Meditation Dock/Float on the Charles, then a walk around the river. It wasn’t that quick because there just seems to be so much to talk about. Just a few minutes after we sat down on the dock, a ladybug flew right up and landed directly on my knee. One of my earliest happy memories is my grandma singing the “Ladybug Song” to me as a kid, so I’ve always been predisposed to the red buggers. In my early 20s, I started noticing that whenever I was really in need of a bit of a hug from the universe or when something poignant happened, a ladybug would, without fail, appear. It seemed fitting that one flitted on up to me yesterday. I just always think things like this sort of indicate that we’re on the right path.
Later in the afternoon, I was offered a job subbing a yoga class at a local gym within the next few days. This was something I certainly hadn’t been anticipating, so it sent me into a huge quandry: Am I ready to do this? With all of the “day-job” work I have to do, can I really create my first sequence and playlist in this short amount of time? Will I choke? As I took about five to ten minutes debating this, the job went to someone else. The whole scenario was a great lesson, though: I realized that I need to have a sequence ready to go so that I can more confidently jump in and pick up classes at a moment’s notice.
I ended the day with my friend H. and our Annual Wine Night on the Charles. Completely inadvertently, we picked a Wednesday night, which is when the symphony plays in the Hatch Shell by the Charles. It was a beautiful summer night and, as I walked from Arlington over to the river, I felt my heart swoon a little bit, with all of the people around me, their lawn chairs tucked under their arms. It’s so great to see the city out and about like this. I got down to the Charles just before sunset as the symphony was just beginning to play, and a huge public yoga class on the lawn in front of our Meditation Dock was just closing out. The whole thing was enough to make my heart swell. It was the perfect, beautiful summer night, with a fiery sunset getting ready to stage its main performance, settling over the MIT dome for the evening.
As the sun set over the water, H. snapped some shots of me doing various poses to use along with my bio for upcoming classes. With our work done, we sat down to an amazing feast and some wine on the bank of the river. H. is an incredible cook, who brought tons of mouth-watering treats. But the kicker was, she surprised me with this strawberry cake that I’m pretty much orgasmic over. I sampled it for the first time more than a year ago, and still wax poetic about it (and H. still regularly makes fun of me for my over-enthusiasm–but, seriously, this is literally the best cake I’ve ever had). With a big grin spread across her face, H. proudly produced a still-warm mini-version of the cake from her bag last night. I literally teared up a bit–both from the anticipation of all that deliciousness and the sweetness of the gesture.