BREAKING NEWS: Rain in Flagstaff. We accept it just as if we wanted it.
Lori and I went to Yoga in the Park in her subdivision. It's seductive, this lure of neighborhood parks, block parties, and cultured organized activities. Not seductive: my yoga pants. There's a reason the dog faces downward. The instructor, a lithe, willowy young thing, tried to help us all with our poses, but she had to give up and put her mat next to me. Ma'am, are you crying? What are you doing with your leg? Why is your head like that? Do you want me to call someone?
We all spent a lot of time in downtown Flag (locals don't use the whole word) this weekend, enjoying crafts and arts. I never know the difference. The place feels good.
|This is not a Steve Martin scimitar. She's actually balancing it on her head.|
|Seriously? She's balancing it on her head?|
|I can wedge the rig in here.|
|San Francisco Peaks|
And, boy howdy! is it raining!
Did you know this about olive oil?