Om.

This past weekend was lovely, with me spending time in Placerville in the warm sun with my family, going on motorcycle rides...and then coming back to my wonderful husband and taking a motorcycle ride down the beautiful coast to Half Moon Bay and exploring seaside towns we'd never been to. Even yesterday was pretty decent weather. So I guess it makes sense that San Francisco brought gusts of wind and pouring rain today as a giant "eff you, Anneliese". Because San Francisco hates me, and that feeling is becoming mutual. And this morning I was walking to the muni stop, and had to sprint a block with my yoga mat and workout gear bouncing along to catch the train, and as soon as I got there, the driver looks at me, shuts the door in my face and drives off. Seriously? Next muni: 18 minutes. So I sit and wait in the rain. When I finally catch one, a HUGE man sits next to me/on top of me, and I'm crammed against the bar with my shoulders all pitched forward, while rain drips off of him all over me. I hate my life.

While walking home last night, I saw this picture painted on the side of a random building (?), and thought it sums up how I feel about the muni:

Dark, weird, and a little bit what I imagine hell to be like.

I also saw this in somebody's window:

Why?


Tonight I'm going to my first official yoga class with my coworker, and although I'm sure it will be fantastic and I'll immediately go home and buy a new yogamat on amazon, I'm feeling a little bit nervous. I can't help having these visions in my head of all these willowy, graceful people doing yoga, and me in the back with my hair in my face, sweating, and awkwardly sticking my butt in the air while the instructor rolls her eyes. Ommmm.