Well Folks, the time has come: I have recovered enough, have help with the baby enough, and have motivation enough to commit to a weekly yoga class at the yoga studio. Tuesday mornings, 9am.

For a couple months now I've flirted with yoga, developed a relationship with the concept, tested my musculature for stabilty *huhum* I've done some yoga videos at home, loosely flowing routines on my own, and many, many self-styled stretching sessions in the middle of the night.
Now, I'm ready for that vast expanse of hardwood floor, the nasal quality of sankrit chanting, and yards of lycra covering my body.

Oh don't worry--if I don't make a class or if I give up after some twenty-something comes in the studio and kisses her own ass or if I decide that new shoes take precedence over yoga class, well, I'll be open and honest about it. Afterall, my own spotty commitment to yoga could make you feel much better about yours.