I’m trying to gather up enough energy and stamina to write a post here. Thoughts have been forming and merging and collapsing lately, but fingers repel keys like magnets with like poles because exhausted and empty.

But just like I now get on the yoga mat each morning (thanks to persistent, available, compassionately whip-cracking teacher), I’m getting on the keyboard and writing this evening.

Yoga for writers: Do your writing, and all is coming….

Lately I’ve found myself thinking a lot about who on earth I am. I’ve had so much going on: my first TV appearance, celebrity interviews, and more and more celebrity interviews and two trips to New York in just over a month and trips to the cottage and work and…and…and…and family.

And my family, though last on that list of “so much going on,” is at the forefront of my thoughts all the time. When I pick up the phone to Jessica Alba’s very sweet voice, it occurs to me how close in age the Rascal is to her daughter. Does she want to know how much my son will love Spy Kids? Or how the Monkey loves the Little Mermaid, too? She has a Little Mermaid “babing suit”….

She turned six last week. SIX.

Gosh, and I’ve been blogging here since she was 8 months old….

We threw her a fairy birthday party. Tinker Bell flew in and blew the Monkey away. She stayed much longer than she was supposed to (thankfully), went up to the Monkey’s room with all the girls, ate cake with us, took pictures. The Monkey hugged Tink for dear life when it was time to say goodbye. She really believed….

With so much going on, when I hang up the phone with Jessica Alba, when I leave work for the day, when the TV camera switches off and I’m wondering how I did, when I’m standing on my head at the yoga studio, when I crawl into a foreign hotel bed, I am all about my kids.

“Ooo, look at the upside down rainbow!” — my brother and his wife taunt me when I practice yoga at the cottage….

From the moment I crawl out from under the Rascal in the morning, to the time I pick them up from camp, they’re in my thoughts — emerging and retreating as my focus on other things waxes and wanes. How are they doing at camp? Is the Monkey wearing her hat? Is the Rascal asking his counselor for “Mama”? Is he eating his snack? What will we do together after camp? Hair cuts? The “fairy store”? The park?

I’m thinking about my family. That’s who I am. And I’m thinking about career and life and what I’ll make for tomorrow’s lunch when I finish writing this post. I’m thinking about my dharma.

Last night I dreamed of a cave and a guru. Another guru dream. There were no answers, nothing full or finite. Just open arms and a smile.

Love….

xo Haley-O

Watch for old patterns.
Consistent effort is the path to transformation.
See you tomorrow! — David Robson, email, July 10, 2011

I don’t think I’ve said enough about my yoga teacher David Robson lately. *Cough.*

The thing is in the midst of all the crazy stuff I’ve had going on lately, he’s actually managing to help me get grounded (which is really hard to do for me whose feet are perpetually, though extremely wide, hovering floaty above the ground, laaaaa). Well, so far. I DID show up to yoga this morning.

At first he didn’t say too much when I stopped showing up to daily early-morning Mysore practice — except that if I had to let anything go in my life, it shouldn’t be my yoga practice. “You’ve worked so hard,” he said. I didn’t know how badly I needed to hear that. See? Brillers teacher.

After he said that to me, I went back a few times, and then I stopped showing up again. So I emailed David at the shala . I wanted to let him know that my intention to practice was still there and that I just had a lot going on. I guess he realized that what I was really doing was asking for an extra push from him, and that’s when he emailed me that little GEM quoted above.

“Watch for old patterns.” Hmm…, let’s see….

Old pattern #1: Not only have I not been waking up early to go to yoga, but I’ve also been going to bed late. Really LATE.

Old pattern #2: I’ve been starting my days not with yoga but with Starbucks soy no-water tazo chai. Grrrrr…..

Actually, I start every day with a heavy, blond, very round head on my lower back, and a white, fluffy, furry head on my feet. PINNED. And then my CAT couldn’t be more excited when I finally do wake up. It’s like Dino and Fred Flinstone. Wiiiiiiiiiilmaaaaaaaa!

Old pattern #3: I’ve been eating and drinking NOTHING after my chai — until the evening…. Eeeeeek, I know! And apparently I have hypoglycemia, to make matters even awesomer.

Old pattern #4: I’m a nervous stress case.

Old pattern #5: I stopped cooking for myself. Good thing it’sgrandma makes a mean salad at the cottage….

Old pattern #6: Let’s just say my house has seen tidier days….

So I don’t know what happened. Or, well I have a theory: school ended for the kids; they started camp; I took on a few too many assignments at work; I went to New York, ran around a lot…; and then I slipped — like Cinderella did, but all the way down the stairs, only not as graceful, and like I said, wide feet, phoom phoom phoom. I slipped off the wagon (many wagons) and just stopped taking care of myself. Yoga wasn’t the first to go. But, as David wisely, and possibly psychically, pointed out in that email, my skipping yoga was a signal that I was falling back into old patterns.

Addiction. Comfortable there.

It was a good thing he sent me that email. The timing was impeccable. Because it was that same day that I actually convinced myself I was going to DIE from the chai I chugged that morning. My anxiety was at a record high….

So I’m just about to do my “drop backs” this morning. David takes his usual place in front of me, looks me in the eye so there’s no looking away, even though (for me) it’s obscenely early in the morning to be socializing in any capacity, and reminds me that I “need a practice.” Because it’s the one thing that will keep me grounded and going, that will “push me through” all the changes so I don’t get lost in them and all overwhelmed.

Like an empty water bottle lost at sea, toxic and carried by endless waves of change.

Today I didn’t have a chai latte. This might explain any incoherence, rambling, typos or bizarre, out-of-nowhere metaphors in this blog post. Instead I made a simple green smoothie. And, as my team (nay, family) at Today’s Parent reminded me to do, I brought my lunch to work — some simple miso brown rice and vegetables and hummus. I’m building new patterns.

I’ll never forget what my teacher Monica Voss said years ago when we were discussing a yoga pose: sometimes you have to “collapse the structure so we can gradually rebuild.”  And it looks like that’s what happening here.

So, huge thanks to David Robson for nudging me so perfectly to rebuild. As he himself said, “It won’t be the last time.” Ha! But at least I know I have him and my friends at the shala to catch me when I slip or, better yet, to pick this toxic water bottle out of the ocean and plant some flowers in her. Yikes?

So, Gorgeouses, what are some old patterns you slip into when life gets overwhelming? And do you have some kind of “practice” or hobby to keep you steady and grounded?

Love!
xo Haley-O

How DOES she do it?

I love them. And I fed them for her sake — because I can’t imagine what it’s like to have nine children. And, of course, they kept coming back for more. In the end they were swimming with us, side by side. Quack quack quack. Until Betty White jumped in. She didn’t bother them or anything, but the mere presence of such a SCARY BEAST was evidently enough to send the ducklings and their mama quacking away for a few hours at least….

Ooooooo…. Scary beast. RAWR!

Or maybe it was my Justin Bieber towel that scared them away….

If you can help it, try not to comment about how dirty and disease infested ducks are. I’ve been fighting some serious sun anxiety/OCD lately. I spent an entire paycheck buying every mineral sunscreen I could find in the store, and that doesn’t seem to be enough for my (and my sister’s) fair beauties in the heat of the cottage sun….

Cousins…. They did wear T-shirts most of the day…AND their beloved life jackets.

Brothers….

Obvious: I love the cottage. I feel like a kid again when I’m there, only better. When I was a kid, I was terrified of the lake, hated the outdoors and ran the other way when anyone yelled “WATER SPORTS WOOHOOOHOOHOOO!” Now, here I am jumping in the middle of the lake to rescue a lost hat, kayaking….

WAKEBOARDING…!

I got up on the wakeboard, and I made it around the lake, bouncing off choppy waves and whipping side to side. Totally awesome, dude…. And I went crazy water tubing. Here’s Josh-O hating every minute of our saggy water tube….

I love it. I love the cottage. The nature, the play, the togetherness. and I hate to leave every time….

So thanks for the emails, Gorgeouses. I know I’ve been MIA here lately. It’s okay. I haven’t even been to yoga much lately either. And I’m kind of disappointed in my apparent laziness. But I am long overdue for this thing called “play,” which I’m surprisingly rediscovering at the cottage.

I think my last yoga practice taught me something about this just the other day. I was really struggling through the poses — probably because I’d eaten too much the night before — and just spontaneously decided to stop working so hard. I let my muscles go a little flaccid, rested a little between poses, relaxed inside the poses (all of this a no-no in Ashtanga yoga), breathed a little more freely. And it suddenly occurred to me that I do EVERYTHING TOO HARD. My “flaccid” yoga was for sure someone else’s 100%. I consistently work too hard in every single aspect of my life. I put too much pressure on myself to go all the way and do everything perfectly. Eureka! Maybe things would flow better for me in general if I just let go a little…. Ride the wave….

Parenting, writing, working, parenting, cooking, yoga, dieting, parenting, running, running, running like Lola.

It felt good to let go in yoga, and it feels good to let go a little in life. To play without guilt or holding back or fear. Without fear without fear, for two seconds without fear. I got up and around the lake on a wakeboard for the first time in my life. You missed it all, Fear.

Now I just have to find that healthy balance between work and play, push and pull, order and chaos, freedom and control, yin and yang.

My arms still feel slightly torn out of their sockets from wakeboarding, but I should make it to yoga tomorrow (and I will work hard). It’s pretty crucial. I have the greatest, most inspiring teacher out there, who, like wakeboarding, reminds me that I can do anything.

Ahh, life.

Love!
xo Haley-O

There we are. Jennifer Garner and me! You can read my interview and all about my Jennifer Garner experience HERE! It was a whirlwind. I haven’t had a trip like that in a long time, or maybe, like, ever? Crazy!

I left for NYC at 4:30am on Thursday morning. I got on the plane at 6:30am, but my co-traveler Emma Waverman got detained in customs and missed our flight…! It didn’t get much better for poor Emma. When she got to NYC, her car broke down on her way to meet the rest of us. She’s the one in the pretty sundress beside me….

Oh, wait! EVERYONE’s wearing a sundress but me (and tall Jennifer, who got fancy on us!). Apparently, someone didn’t get the sundress memo. But I did get the “wear heels” memo from a little voice in my head — thank goodness…! I went with black wedges and polished toenails, and I brought an extra pair of quite hideous sneakers for the rest of the day.

Anyway, I loved meeting Jennifer. She’s stunning and nice and very passionate about the charity Save the Children, which we were there to promote with my new favourite appliance company Frigidaire.

Little did I know, though, the trip was just beginning. After the event, Emma, Denise Smith from Savvymom.ca (in the grey dress on the end) and I hit the town thinking we should make the most of the few hours we had left in New York. Little did we know….

We went to Soho and walked forever in the sweltering heat to visit the famous vegan cupcake place, Baby Cakes. Shockingly, it was foodie Emma’s idea. She owed me one for trying to convince me not to be vegan that one time….

I cropped out our arms because we were both having “bad arm days” in our photos….

Such good sports they are to walk that far for vegan cupcakes! The cupcakes were pretty good. But I couldn’t really tell because I had some sort of weird laryngitis symptom that made EVERYTHING I ate taste sour for a good couple of days….

After the bakery, we went shopping. And startlingly, I was the only one who bought anything — a gorj boho-chic necklace from Free People. I don’t have a photo of it yet….

While in Soho, I took my first photo with a sleeping man (and, ooo!, there’s my necklace)!

Emma made me do it…. Hideous sneakers.

After that, we met our friends Irene Ngo from Chatelaine Magazine (in the blue dress, above), Rachelle Stark, David Riabov, and Stephanie (beside Jennifer Garner, above) and Norm from Frigidaire. We were supposed to go for dinner. But the traffic held us back, so we had to go straight to the airport. Parched, hungry and exhausted.

As we drove, the sky got DARK. People were walking the NYC streets covering their faces, the wind was so bad.

Our flight was scheduled for 8:30pm, but the weather kept getting worse, and there was no flight in sight. Eventually, we got out of there still parched and hungry (nothing was open!) and rebooked our flights for the earliest flight home the next day — 2:30pm (3:30pm for Emma, of course…).

We had no change of clothes, no makeup (gah!), toothbrushes, NOTHING. But we had each other. And we had Nobu, and we had 1am shopping at Forever 21 for fresh clothes to wear, and we had a hotel in Times Square, for the win!

Emma and I shared a hotel room, and Irene and Rachelle (above) shared another. I’m a VERY private person, and Emma and I didn’t even have a WALL on our washroom. It was more like a WINDOW WALL. But I didn’t care. Emma is a hoot. They all were. We giggled the whole trip. And I needed it….

I spent the next morning with foodies Irene and Emma. Of course, we checked out Chef Mario Batali’s Eataly. Some of us were in HEA-VEN….

Emma — she had no pants to wear! And Irene’s still wearing her blue dress from the day before…. Look! Mushrooms!

We did so much walking in our new Forever 21 clothes (I NEVER wear stripes! and Emma did finally find some pants to wear) that…

…(yeah you saw that right….) I had to get a Starbucks….

BUSTED…! Oooh! And there’s my new necklace again! Like it?

After that, we went to the airport, checked in. And, of course, Emma’s flight got delayed. We all waved goodbye to poor Emma and off we went. She left 3 hours later.

Okay, this was a lot of work, Gorgeouses! So in return for my sharing the intimate details of my fabulous trip to NYC, can you please do me one favour? Go and commit to “eat fresh.” For every person who commits to eat fresh (it’s quick!), Frigidaire will donate $1 to Save the Children Canada. Plus you get a chance to win an awesome fridge. For more about this cause and to read my Today’s Parent interview with Jennifer Garner, CHECKIT!

Stay tuned. I interview Dean McDermott, whom many of you know as Tori Spelling’s hubby, Thursday. I’m bringing the Rascal with me…. Gaaahhh!

Love!
xo Haley-O

Something’s shifting. Maybe it’s temporary, or maybe, more likely, I’m really tired.

I haven’t blogged in over a week and, by self-imposed law, I never miss a week! But it’s what I needed. Even today I feel like closing this Macbook right this second, and just being quiet. Working as an online editor means writing — a lot. And I love writing, so I don’t forget for one minute that this is, to borrow the Monkey’s favourite phrase, the job “of my dreams.” But it also means that I’m on my computer a lot.

This weekend I couldn’t stomach turning on my computer. And I think I still need one more night, at least, not to type on this keyboard, not to look at this bright screen. To read, to splash in the freezing cold lake — youch! To wear my crocs, sip a grande soy-no-water-tazo chai without guilt and despite challenge. To play soccer with the Rascal and Betty White. To practise my backwards somersaults with the Monkey in the grass. To be a mom and just celebrate that with my mom, my sister and sister-in-law at a cottage-country spa — thanks to our husbands. Happy Mother’s Day to us, indeed, and to all you Gorgeous moms out there!

I had a massage for the first time in years at the spa this weekend. The massage therapist said I was crazy tight around my forearms and shoulder blades — “Are you on the computer a lot?” Yes. Forearms.

Tomorrow I leave for yoga early. And I think I’ll wear something sparkly. I’m just so freaking malleable, so easily swayed, definitely nervous, and wracked with frustrating OCD lately. It comes around faster these days — or maybe I just notice it more. It’s tough battling this thing without medication sometimes. But I’m determined. Partly because my OCD makes me not want to pee meds into our lakes and oceans….

But the yoga helps a lot. And writing it out helps. And being open and laughing about it helps. And taking a break helps.

And so, silence. For at least a little while. So I can collect myself (again) and relax and not perform and enjoy my work and then turn it off and get some sleep and do what I do for me.

Something sparkly.

You know how I love to write? It seems I also love to take pictures. And I’ve really enjoyed loading these up here for you this evening. So here’s another story for the road — no words.

Thanks, as always, for being here.

Love!

xo Haley-O

{The Monkey taking a picture with a miniature toy ice cube.}

The fitness blog over at Todaysparent.com has been a really good thing for me personally. I’m finally reaching my long-time goal of getting fit and healthy, and losing some of the unhealthy habits I’d developed to cope with the emotional effects of my pregnancies. I’m not there yet, but it’s finally in sight. I’ve lost four pounds this week, and everything I’ve eaten on my in-between-challenges “cheat day” today, including my cherished chai latte, has tasted disgusting — I’m even feeling unpleasantly shaky and a little on the verge of crying.

Maybe it’s the cheaty chai. Or maybe it’s that blog and some of the feelings that it’s bringing up for me.

I’ve chosen a very different lifestyle than most people I know. So I’m assuming most people who read Todaysparent.com haven’t, or wouldn’t, choose it for themselves. I’ve always searched and struggled to find the “perfect” lifestyle, and I’ve never been able to find anything that feels right for me. I used to ask everyone what they ate, what they did to stay slim, and I’d read every diet book and magazine. Searching. Everything I read said something different: eat 5 meals a day; eat breakfast; don’t eat carbs; work out for 90 minutes a day; spin until you can’t feel your legs; jog; walk fast; lift weights; drink water. None of it has really spoken to me in the last few years. So none of it has worked for me (I’ve tried everything).

What speaks to me is my own body and, well…, ANCIENT STUFF.

This is why I’ve chosen daily yoga as a path. Practising my yoga, whether in the studio or at home, is one thing I know that is TRUE in my day. It’s just me, my body and my breath — and occasionally Betty White (the dog) or the Monkey, the Rascal or Minden (who loves to lick my yoga mat with his raspy tongue), or a hard kick in the head from the lithe woman in front of me who “jumps back” a little too close to my mat. And this is why I’ve chosen to eat the way I do.

I’m a very sensitive person. I get anxious if I overhear a news story or if I do the tiniest thing wrong. An anxious thought can throw me into tears or panic — especially since becoming a mother.

These days we’re just bombarded with information and interaction (online and off), and some of us can’t handle it without serious therapy. I learned that during my pregnancies, and I learn that now when I slip up and stop taking care of myself.

When Today’s Parent asked me to write a blog about my journey to weight loss I had no idea I’d really be writing about my life. MY LIFE and what exactly makes me tick.

My lifestyle choices are not mainstream. So I feel a little vulnerable talking about sauerkraut and kombu…. I almost want to cry that I’m telling a world that might not yet be open to it about sauerkraut and kombu, brown rice and shoyu. Will they shun me? Will they scoff? Will they think I’m loony?

Because I’m not. Or at least I don’t think I am. (And I know that’s not saying anything, but still.) Sure, I’m definitely definitely quirky and even a bit eccentric — I’ll give you that. But, like everyone, I’m just trying to feel good and be happy. I’m not telling anyone how to live their lives. I’m just trying to survive and be strong for my kids and to live the best way I can in a world that might otherwise knock me over.

So I don’t know how much to say right now. And I don’t know if I want to say anything anymore — just because this is all so intensely personal and different. Although I guess feeling vulnerable is a good exercise for a writer…. But I don’t know.

Maybe it’s the chai or the Rice Dream chocolate-mint-swirl frozen dessert that I just devoured to cap off “cheat day.” (Don’t worry, I’ve got brown rice and lentil miso soup bubbling on the stove….) Because I feel myself on the verge of tears again. Or maybe I need to be quiet for a bit and collect all my pieces.

I’ll figure it out. In the meantime — just — thank you for being here, for sticking around all these years and accepting me the way I am. You truly are gorgeous.

Love!
xo Haley-O

Nobody ever tells you how physically challenging parenthood is. I can’t remember the last time I really relaxed for more than ten minutes without someone asking me for something, to fulfill some urgent need.

Please don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t give up any of this for anything. Not even the adventures in public bathrooms. Precious as those adventures are, I wouldn’t give them up. Not even the half hour it takes us to get showered and dressed after swimming. I don’t EVEN care that we’re always the last ones to get out of there because, apparently, I have given birth to a nudist, and the other one insists on putting his socks on by himself — not an easy feat for a 3-year-old with wet feet.

Nobody tells you that, when you wake up to go to yoga class in the morning, the mere request for a sippy cup of water is enough send you reeling back to bed because — f*** it — life’s just too hard.

Nobody tells you how fast the time goes. Well, EVERYBODY tells you how fast the time goes — “Before you know it, they’re off to university!” I’m talking about the time that ticks in between the kids’ programs and the time that ticks when you actually have half an hour to yourself while he’s at Sportball or they’re at swimming or she’s at dance class. It ticks so fast that you barely get anywhere on time. Or maybe it’s just that winter — with its frigid cold and snow pants and hats and mittens and wet boots — is longer than ever these days.

Nobody tells you how different — how very different — life is when you have children. How awesome it is, they tell you. But they don’t tell you how tiring and how fast and how slow and how backbreaking and how selfless and how challenging despite how purposeful and rewarding and amazing and adorable and hilarious and the love….

At 5 years old, the Monkey still calls her bathing suit “babing suit.”

At 3, the Rascal (intentionally) calls potatoes “podowdows.”

She was cast as Snow White in her Theatre Program’s production of Snow White.

He is fearless in the water.

She can read now.

He can capture the universe on a single piece of green construction paper.

I woke up this morning at the sound of my alarm (gong gong gong) — dreading leaving the house for the first of many times today — and sat up. My heart swelled as I looked down at my bed and my two dosing, beautiful children. And I thought to myself, “How ever did I sleep in such little space?”

Parenthood is Awesome. And I wouldn’t trade any of it for anything. Not even the butt wiping, the night waking, the order barking, the pee flying, the not listening, the screaming in my ear, the clothes tugging, the waiting, and waiting, the pushing, the pulling, the racing, the whining, the kvetching, the going, the going, the going, the going.

I had to go outside to grab my Macbook out of my car so I could write all this down. At first I was pissed that I had to trudge outside in the freezing cold again — to squeeze my puffy body between car and garage door, and dirty this psychedelic green hoodie that’s making me feel pretty. But then I looked up, and I saw the stars. And I felt peaceful and still and whole and some other amazing feeling that may vanish if I attempt to mold it into words. So I won’t.

I don’t want to do another thing today anyway. But the kids have been bathed and they want dessert.

Strawberries tonight.

Love….

xo Haley-O

I’m trying to write this blog post right now, but my husband’s going on and on about The Bachelor. He’s loves it (even if he won’t admit it). And he has more to say about it than I do. So I think he should start his own blog. In the meantime….

The Rascal thinks we own the cottage.

He refuses to accept that we’ve been going to my parents’ cottage all this time. But I guess it doesn’t matter. Especially since he’s been decorating….

It’s the solar system. But I didn’t need to tell you that. He taped it onto my parents’ his fridge himself!

…Right after his sister climbed onto a stool and taped her own masterpiece to her grandparents’ fridge. And when I say masterpiece, I mean masterpiece. Gorgeouses, we have a real artist on our hands (click to enlarge)!

Which one is your favourite? For me it’s a tie between the 6th in from the left and the 2nd in from the right (with the, you know, the hair!).

And the fridge isn’t the only thing she’s been decorating. She decorates EVERYTHING. THE WORLD IS HER CANVAS. My little Picasso is always at work creating worlds and decorating, umm, my stuff….

And her little brother’s one of her biggest fans….

Yes, there’s a lot of cuteness around here. But also a lot of tiredness. My little artists’ young minds — brimming with so many ideas, art, GENIUS — continue to create through the night. HAVOC.

I’m exhausted.

But they’ve promised not to wake me up tonight. And they’ll never keep it.

I’m really run down, Gorgeouses. And I’m hoping that returning to yoga tomorrow — after a long, forbidden holiday — and committing to my daily practice again no matter how little sleep I’m on, no matter how much I’m working, and no matter how cute and cozy my kids look in the morning, will help rejuvenate me. Tired.

Yoga is another thing on the long list of things I SHOULD do every day. But it’s also something I can count on. Something consistent and predictable and unchanging (for the most part) and just for me.

No decorations.

Just me.

Sleep?

Love!

xo Haley-O

OH! And check out how I’m doing on my fitness journey HERE!

Actually this blog is far from “regularly scheduled.” I write when the mood moves me. But this month has been certifiably insane. And I find myself. Depressed.

I’ll feel better tomorrow or the day after. It’s just hard. Between work and constantly-screaming children, I can’t relax. My body and mind are screaming over the children, “YOU NEED A BREAK! YOU NEED TO SLEEP! YOU NEED TO…PLAY AND I DON’T MEAN LEGO! You need a facial, massage, a vacation.” Somewhere warm like a deserted island. I can lie on a hammock and let the ocean rock me back and forth and back and forth and back and….

Right now the closest thing I have to a vacation is this….

She doesn’t demand much, our Betty White. Only to be let outside approximately every 6½ minutes, or any time I shift positions when I’m working on the couch. She owns it. Our backyard is her territory. She has balls and bones and probably old cat poop buried deep beneath the ground. Every 12½ minutes I let her in and wipe the black of digging off her face. Her beard.

I’d love to feel as joyful as Betty White. I watch her out my window. She scurries here and there and then just stops. Still. Listens. Espies. Stomps. Sees me. Comes running. Expects. Cookie.

She’s not the only one who loves the outdoors around here — especially when it’s snowing and below zero….

Snow angels! He can’t get enough of the snow. Which is totally how it should be when you’re 3 years old. Even as I watch his red little nose turn to purple and scrunch with the glee, I can’t even imagine.

Don’t worry, Gorgeouses. I’ll snap out of this. I get depressed. I don’t hide it well. This doesn’t mean I need to talk about it or go get help. Sometimes, in my case, depression’s okay. I’m like a big bear in the winter. I just want to cozy up on my favourite spot on the couch and be warm and still and…not tweet much.

It just so happens that all the beings I’m wholly responsible for 24/7 are the farthest thing from big bears in the winter. They’re more like those flippy little birds that stick around instead of flying south — the ones Betty White chases every 6½ minutes in the backyard. WHY NOT FLY TO FLORIDA? So I’m tired. And craving. A vacation. An island. A hammock. A good night’s sleep.

Good night, Gorgeouses.

Love!

xo Haley-O

I think I just wasted 20 minutes of my life (which I’ll never get back) adding two new words to the Urban Dictionary.

GORJ (= gorgeous)

AGORJABLE (= both gorgeous and adorable)

We’ve been using GORJ around here for years now. But AGORJABLE’s definitely a new one. It emerged on twitter (as so much does) when I was direct-messaging my AGORJABLE friend, Ms. @Lindseyjay, who also happens to be GORJ. There — I just used both words in a sentence, in one sentence.

The Urban Dictionary’s not quite the OED, but I’ll get there. I also invented the word LAPPAH, if you recall….

Where was I? I had to leave…. Just lost another 10 minutes of my life (which I’ll never get back) adding LAPPAH to the Urban Dictionary. Please tell me this isn’t as addictive as twitter, or chai lattes….

By the way, don’t search for any of my new words yet. The Urban Dictionary editors have to approve them. But I’m thinking if they approved Sh–––g– and F–––@*&%$, then they’ll probably approve GORJ, AGORJABLE and LAPPAH.

Shh…. Betty White is sleeping, so we have to be quiet….

And I know what you’re thinking. She looks JUST like the dog “Kyle” in Despicable Me with that halucious underbite (and no you’re not having a déjà vu — I’ve definitely mentioned this before, but I like these pictures better!)….

Oh gosh! HALUCIOUS isn’t a real word either, is it? Gotta go.

Addictive.

My Urban Dictionary addiction is healthier than Starbucks, I guess. I suppose I should see if UGGERS and BRILLERS are in there, too…. Ugh. Tired! Hold on.

I’m back.

So, Gorgeouses, in addition to all these super-exciting new words, I’ve made two significant changes in my life. (And no, this isn’t a déjà vu either.) I officially-officially quit Starbucks-soy-no-water-tazo-chai lattes AND I’ve been going to the Ashtanga yoga “shala” every. single. day. Except Saturdays and moon days (it’s traditional not to practice yoga on the days of the new and full moon because the body has less energy and is more prone to injury).

Somehow, it was always okay to go to the gym every day. Why not yoga, until now?

It just so happens I’m not the only crazy “Ashtangi” around these parts. Have you seen Eden Kennedy’s brillers Yogabeans! blog? I’m doing what those action figures are doing every. single. day.

I never thought I’d love sweating in a hot shala every day doing intense yoga that has my heart pumping, face beet red. Yoga was always about bliss before, and breathing into your toes…. Now it’s about tradition, strength, focus, presence and, more than ever (and unexpectedly), community. I have the support I need to get strong and fit and calm(er) and healthy. That, and I get to be with other crazy Ashtangis every day. And they are a cool people. I’m telling you. Cool. (Although I’m a little irate with some of them for being in MEXICO right now on a dream retreat. Grrrr….)

After my yoga practice today, Alice left a “reward” for me at the front desk. And I’ve been verklempt about it ever since. It was the most delicious thing I’d tasted in a long time because it was a homemade, macrobiotic, nourishing nourishing treat. Look how pretty….

Alice says it’s my reward for going baked-goods FREE until January. Mmmm-mmm! Be part of the challenge, get the recipe, and potentially earn your very own “rice triangle sandwich” at ALICE’S NEW Macrobiotic food blog — you’ll see my pretty sandwich and I are featured in her post!

I’m telling you Gorgeouses! I have a new lease on life. Finally, I’m taking care of BOTH my family AND myself. At 3 and 5 years old, my kids are thoroughly entertained and excited by their mama’s curious passion. And I see how good it is for them to see me taking care of myself and doing something, to think!, for me (who?) — which, really, is ultimately for them…. Because practicing my yoga and eating right make me a happier, healthier and more present mom (and person all around).

Now, sit back, and watch me melt off 20 pounds with joy….

Love! xoxo Haley-O