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Showing posts from February, 2012

Fat Man in a Little Surya-namaskar

Chris Farley once famously tickled David Spade's funny bone singing about the famous fat man wearing (and tearing) Spade's jacket.

I'm really not sure I want to know what I'm going to end up tearing when I become my beloved's first official yoga student.  If she laughs when I rupture a spleen or kidney or a gonad, I'm going to be pissed.  Once I stop weeping, that is.

Whether I want to know or not, I have no doubt something will get torn when she bends me into a wheel or a cow face or a half spinal twist or some other spine and pride destroying move.

But I will be her first.  And I will bend in places I didn't know I had hinges.  And I will document every step along the way, right here in the Smoke House.

Follow along with "Where There's Smoke" to find out how things go.

I don't promise much fun but I'll do everything I can to bring the funny.

Peace from Asheville.

Smoke