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Yoga! February 8, 2010

Posted by millyonair in Life, Musings, health.
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Ommmmmmmmm….

Namaste, everyone! Sorry I’ve been so inconsistent. Since I last blogged, I 1.)went to New Orleans (and fell in love all over again), 2.) started a new blog with my friend, and 3.)  “discovered” yoga.

You see, for several years now, I’ve had a “hunch” that I would like yoga, that perhaps I even needed yoga. But because I’ve mostly been poor-ish for my entire adult life, I was never able to afford yoga classes. I tried watching some yoga tapes on my VCR (yes, I still have a VCR) and downloading some instructional videos off the internet. But doing (probably incorrect) yoga poses by myself on the carpet never really inspired me very much. The last time I tried it, I hurt my neck and had a headache for three days. That’s it, I thought. Guess yoga’s not for me after all. Then my mom invited me to go with her to the YMCA. We took a pilates class together, and then stayed for a yoga breathing class on a whim.

And my whole life changed.

As it turns out, my original hunch was correct. Not only do I like yoga, I do feel like I need it. Actually, it’s pretty much the reason I’ve been getting out of bed in the morning. Well, that and coffee.

See, I don’t get a lot of exercise, even though I know I should- especially since I plan to live to 100. Nonetheless, exercise, with the exception of walking outside on a nice day, just bores me. Or sucks. Getting on a treadmill makes me feel silly, like I’m expending all this energy and have nothing to show for it except sweat stains and a (presumably) firmer derriere. I can’t help thinking about what aliens would think if they were studying the human race based on a gym full of people. It would baffle them, and might lead them to believe we were stupid- heaving weights around for no apparent reason, walking in place for long periods of time, climbing invisible stairs- all while watching TV with the sound turned off. Plus, none of that stuff is fun. Working out always seemed like something I should do, but while I was doing it I just kept thinking, Man I can’t wait until I’m done with this!

But yoga isn’t like that at all. I lose track of time during the sessions, and when it’s finished, I feel a little disappointed, like the end has come too soon. And though it’s physically challenging, it’s not in a punishing kind of way. Instead it feels like I really am doing something good for me. What I really love about it is how it gets me out of my head and into my body. I spend a lot of time in my head, and my head is a very noisy (albeit interesting) place. But because remembering to breathe, to focus on my third eye, to hold all the muscles of my body in exactly the right position, and to move with grace and purpose takes so munch concentration, I can’t really focus on anything else. And I love that. It’s like a mini vacation from my raucous brain to a quiet but no-less-interesting place: my body.

In just the short amount of time that I’ve been practicing, I’ve gained a new-found appreciation for my body. It is a wonderfully complex, intelligent, and beautiful organism. That may be what I love most of all- yoga makes me feel beautiful. Not in a comparative, I’m-better-looking-than-you kind of way, but just in a happy-to-be-me kind of way.

Which fits in with something I’ve sort of loosely termed “Project Me”- which is my idea for 2010. I don’t really have firm ideas about what this means- it came to me while I was cleaning the chicken coop, and is partly evolved from the Feminine Identity Project. It has to do with developing myself as an individual, valuing my own needs and experiences, expanding my spiritual understanding, loving myself, and taking better care of myself- not just physically, but intellectually, emotionally, and spiritually. More on this soon….

This Frickin’ Sucks. January 10, 2010

Posted by millyonair in chickens.
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Miss Edna, R.I.P. 01/08/10

On Friday, we lost another chicken. Edna. The one who would snuggle down into my arms when I picked her up. The one who would hang out with me while I cleaned the chicken coop, clucking quizzically, comb bobbing as she turned her fluffy, golden head from side to side. We don’t really know what happened. She just disappeared two afternoons ago, and despite calling for her and tromping desperately through the woods in sub-freezing temperatures, there wasn’t a trace of her–not a single feather.

Needless to say, I was devastated. I tried to tell myself to toughen up, and that I was an idiot for naming the chickens, for snuggling and spoiling them- hell, for loving them. Real farmers don’t do that. Not because they’re hard-hearted, but for precisely the opposite reason: they know better. Being in love with a chicken means you’re going to get your heart broken, no two ways about it. The more chickens you love, the more times your heart is going to break.  I tried to keep myself from crying about it because, dammit, I’m tired of crying my eyes out over yet another dead chicken. But, being who I am, I was unable to keep myself from falling to pieces and I bawled myself into a snotty, headache-y mess on top of a pile of unfolded laundry. Which was an awesome way to spend a Friday night.

Anyway, we are now down to four chickens. We started with ten. That’s not a very good survival ratio, considering that we haven’t eaten any of them. This fact, combined with my lack of emotional fortitude make me feel like a failure as a chicken farmer.  The heartsick-and-bruised part of me is very reluctant to get more chickens in the spring because I know that, no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to keep from naming the new ones, snuggling them, and feeding them Christmas cookies and cornbread.

On the other hand, my chickens have really good lives, however brief. And the idea of another box filled with adorable, fluffy, peeping chicklets is all too tempting, in spite of the tears I will inevitably shed for every single one of them.

And the eggs are nice, too.

But, dammit.

Merry Christmas from Me and the Chickens December 23, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Uncategorized.
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The girls have been stuffing themselves, just like me! Happy holidays everyone, and here’s hoping your new year is filled with many blessings of peace, love, and poultry! Cheers!

Publishment! December 15, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Books and Writing.
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Check it out! The essay I submitted to This I Believe has been published on their website! I found out last night, which was only a few hours after I submitted my portfolio to grad school (to get my MFA in Creative Writing). Before I posted the much-agonized over writing sample in the mail, I prayed and asked for a sign of my success. The This I Believe email announcing the selection of my essay for their website was sign number two! (I’m not telling you about the first one because it’s between me and the Universe).

Look out world, here I come! (Better shine that Pulitzer, y’all!)

One day, you'll be able to say you've been reading my blog since before I was famous

A Walk in the Park December 14, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Life, Things Environmental.
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One great thing about Texas is that sometimes, in the middle of a foggy, dreary, wet December, you get a beautiful sunny, 70-degree day. Which is what happened yesterday. I was feeling a little vitamin-D deprived, so Jim and I loaded up on sunshine in City Park along the San Marcos River, where we met…

some gregarious geese…

a shy heron…

a white egret…

some Christmas lights…

and a big, handsome cypress tree that I couldn’t resist hugging.

And Then There Were Five December 12, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Life, chickens.
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Lost one of my hens day-before-yesterday: Eugenia, a beautiful, perky Red. I still don’t know what happened. In the morning, I noticed her crouching beneath a tree in a weak, frosty sunbeam instead of merrily pecking and scratching about the yard, like her sisters. I thought maybe she was cold, and noticed that one of her nostrils seemed a little runny. We brought her inside and nestled her into a box beside the wood stove to keep her separate from the others and to make her more comfortable. She wouldn’t eat and would only drink a few sips of water. I spent most of the day alternately petting her and conducting internet research to find out what was wrong and how to help. But, in spite of all the forums and blogs and websites about chickens, I couldn’t find anything truly helpful. This is why I need a really good book–a compendium, if you will– about chickens. Doing internet research is like going into a room with five hundred people in it all shouting their (possibly unqualified) opinions at you. That, of course, can also be a positive thing; it’s all very egalitarian. But when you’re having an emergency, a nice, quiet, organized, edited book is probably more helpful.

Anyway, I had eliminated the possibility that she was egg-bound by performing a very invasive examination on the poor bird. She was so ill, she didn’t complain. But I still felt like I was in some way violating her. I smelled her breath and decided she didn’t have “sour crop,” but I thought her crop might be impacted- it was full in the morning ,despite her lack of appetite and lethargy. I was about to dose her with some olive oil and massage her crop, but when I went to the box, she had flopped onto her side and was already stiff. I never got to do anything truly helpful for her, except to bring her inside where she could be warm, and pet her a lot. I’m still very sad about it.

We had a small service for her yesterday morning, attended by Jim and myself, and four of the five remaining hens. When I carried the box containing her body out of our house, the other chickens began simultaneously doing their cluck-squawk, which they often do when they have been separated from the rest of the flock.  Call me crazy, but it was like they knew Eugenia had been separated from them, and were singing the song on her behalf, or in her honor. Until yesterday, I had never heard them all sing at the same time. It was mournful and touching and eerie. Just goes to show that animals know what’s going on.

So now there are only five- half of the little feathered fuzzballs I started out with. The flock looks conspicuously small; Eugenia’s absence seems larger than her presence was.

R. I. P. Eugenia

R. I. P. Eugenia

A Letter to Santa November 25, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Polictics, Social Commentary, Things Environmental.
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Dear Santa,

For Christmas, can I please have my own planet? I promise to take care of it and all the animals that live there. You wouldn’t need to make me the queen or anything, as long as the other people who lived there were enlightened, devoted to intelligent discourse and compassion, and regularly exercised their capacity for free thought. Oh, I’d want there to be wine, too. You see, as much as I like Earth, it makes me all pannicky when I’m reminded that I am stuck on the same planet as these multitudes of unthinking, propaganda-bewitched people and their ilk. I’ve been very, very good this year (and by “good” you know I mean that I have made up my own mind about stuff and never once let a pundit tell me what to think or how to feel).

Santa, if you can’t swing the whole-other-planet thing, then can I at least have my own vineyard, and a lifetime supply of paper bags for breathing into when people like this cause me to hyperventilate? I promise I’ll recycle them.

Love,

Milly

Embarassed, Yet Again, By Other Christians November 23, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Life, Musings, Rants, Social Commentary.
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What's sadder than this dead Christmas tree? Go Fish's Christmas song.

The holidays are again upon us, and so naturally, obnoxious, infuriating crap like this is being circulated via email and Facebook posts*. Someone- a Christian person who goes to our church, and probably considers themselves to be “liberal” and of a different class of Christian than your run-of-the-mill fundamentalist- sent this link to my husband, with a note that said something like, “Ha ha! This ought to get you in the spirit!”

Indeed!

Before I kick this rant into high gear, it is important for me to clarify two things. First, I am a Christian. Second, Christmas is my absolute super-most-favorite holiday ever. I’ve already been listening to (real) Christmas music (like the French Quarter Band’s Dixieland Christmas) for at least three weeks, much to my husband’s chagrin. That being said, I was first enraged, then embarrassed, and then saddened by Go Fish’s song in supposed celebration of Christmas. I’d love the opportunity to have a conversation with these guys. Here’s what I’d say to them: (more…)

The Soundtrack of My Life November 23, 2009

Posted by millyonair in chickens.
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All day long, folks. A poultry serenade. I never knew hens made this much noise. Sometimes they do this after laying an egg, as though to announce to the yard that they have performed a minor miracle in the dusty pine shavings of their coop. Sometimes they just do it for no apparent reason at all. Sometimes two or three of them do it at the same time, like a song-in-the-round. I like to imagine that they’re singing Frère Jacques.

Awards, Political Statements, and TMI November 10, 2009

Posted by millyonair in Life, Rants/Diatribes, Social Commentary, health.
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Yippee! I am the proud recipient of a blogging award, my first. The award was given to me by my muse of French-ness: Mo, of Me, Mo and Myself.

awesomebloggerawardAs a condition of this award, I’m supposed to tell you seven things about myself. I can’t resist the opportunity to make this list semi-germane to the ongoing healthcare debate/debacle in this country.  So, here goes.

1. I do not have health insurance.

2. This is because good health insurance is too expensive. And even paying for the so-called “good” health insurance doesn’t guarantee that the insurance company will actually pay for the procedures recommended by your physician, as my mother has recently discovered.

3. Since I don’t have health insurance, I seldom visit the doctor, and have a general, vague distrust of the entire medical system. Fortunately, I am a very healthy person.

4. Unfortunately, it also means that I am occasionally compelled to perform my own feats of dermatology, e.g. removing suspicious-looking moles with nail scissors.

5. Sometimes I try to diagnose my occasional health concerns by google-ing my symptoms. This is a very, very bad idea that usually results in hypochondriacal fantasies of cancer, renal failure, or early-onset Ebola.

6. I don’t really like to take medicine. My cures for most problems are:

  • A glass of wine.
  • A nap.
  • A hot bath.
  • A hug.
  • Cajoling my husband into massaging some part of my body.

7. I do believe that our government should do something about the current health-care situation in our country, because unless you’re either a gozillionaire or on Medicare/Medicaid, it sucks. I DO NOT, however, like the current plan being bandied about in Congress. I am particularly displeased with the idea that I will be REQUIRED to BUY insurance from the government or other provider, lest I face a fine or some other punitive action when and if I have to go to the doctor. Please, Congressmen. That is SO not what we were asking for.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go sit in a hot bath with a bowl of chocolate ice cream and a book. For my health, yo?

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