Namaste?

Yoga in the home is lovely, though irregular and choppy. Already struggling to master my downward dog is further complicated by a child scooting under the "Mama Bridge". Etcetera. I could blog about the experience  for several paragraphs.

Therefore off I go to an adult yoga class, all by myself. A paid drop-in class which I once frequented three times a week with my paid for by my employer pass, pre-parenthood. Same Sunday instructor and he's alright. Not as invested as some instructors but familiar. I knew what to expect from him after my long absence. Could I call it a sabbatical??
I arrive, park my mat in my spot, strain to remember what my favourite pre yoga class waiting for the instructor pose was .... I glance around for some cues.
Oh look its Linda Duncan! Nope ... no, its a look alike lady with a Linda Duncan do.
I settle on relaxing on my back after a few hip & leg limbering moves.
Most of the class has arrived, arranged themselves, some pull out fashion magazines to peruse while we wait. Someone comes through the side door, she's fresh looking. He? Either a quite pretty looking young man or a slightly androgynous looking young lady. F to M? Whichever the case, this person is attractive, captivating. I can't stop watching.
Anyway...
The yoga teacher walks in about one minute before the predetermined start time and begins the class at precisely 3:45pm.
We're five minutes in, focussed and on our way to something productive and serene. Then the door opens and a straggler walks in, searches for a spot, gets all organized ... rustle rustle. A minute later, hairy well manicured old dude with the snow bird tan comes back in. He had apparently left his mat and gone on a walkabout for a little while.
Partway through class I can hear nothing else except hairy well manicured old dude with the snow bird tan SMACKING his gum in my zenned out EAR!
Why didn't I say anything to him? How does one comment diplomatically on such a thing? "Good gum there  hairy well manicured old dude with the snow bird tan?". I thought for sure he'd at least swallow it before shivasana (corpse pose) ... nope.

The young girl(?) in front of me ... now here's a thing ... what am I now? Five  years ago I was the young girl in the class. Parenthood has somehow transformed me into the ma'am of the class. The one with a few bulges and bumps interrupting her not so sleek yoga outfit. So the young gal in front of me is long, lean, tall and can do everything easy peasy. I admire her, remember myself as her not so long but so long ago.  I decide that its between her & the exotic androgynous one that I must set my yoga standards to. My goal. That is, until I see perfect young gal outside power smoking while downing a coca cola after YOGA CLASS!

All in all (funny phrase that) it was a superb class. My body responded fairly well to the routine. The areas of my body that will require tweaking are stored in the "needs some work" area of my brain for the weeks to come. It was a perfect yoga class day. Sunny afternoon, not too hot so that I'd rather be outside. Not too rainy so that I am not motivated to get myself to a real live class. Now every Sunday has to be exactly the same!