“I like the albumin,” I say to my wife.
We’re having a light breakfast before going to yoga. I’m one egg, sunny side up; she’s two, poached. I tried yoga with her a year ago, half a dozen sessions, and decided it was too much work. Plus, it’s a full hour of listening and following directions, which is probably good discipline, but still, it’s discipline. I’m trending post-discipline these days. But she’s persuaded me to give it another try. The mind-body connection appeals to me, or the idea of it does. Today will be my fourth session. Continue reading