Ohm.

After bitching and moaning to my poor husband all day that we don't make "enough" money I dragged my feet to Juvenile Detention yoga where I had a tremendous session. Two residents and three guards participated. I discovered that people of the African American flavor do yoga the same way they do horror flicks: by hootin' and hollering throughout the whole damn thing.

I think I mentioned last week that the female residents talked through the whole session- the males residents were quiet...but the guards couldn't hold it together. It was fun. And funny. And upon conclusion of the hour said hootin' and hollering guard said, "Uh, I think I need to show my wife that downward facing dog." I love it. La-la-la-love it.

I brought up to James that I'm not going to be able to do much more charity work after my four weeks is completed so he asked me to put together a proposal to submit to his boss with a salary request. I'm in. But how much is one hour a week worth? Help a sister out and offer suggestions, will ya?

The detention center is conveniently located right next to the Granite Run Mall- I was able to skip over to Payless only to find out they don't have the Christian Sirianos in store. Makes. Me. Want. Them. More. To cap off the feeling-sorry-for-myself afternoon, a 20 minute massage was just what the doctor ordered at the mall...before heading home to watch the DVR'd Wendy Williams. Now I'm about to teach two more FREE yoga classes.

I think I have a New Year's resolution brewing...to start charging people for my services.