I'm sure there's a Soap-Yoga connection to be made here, somewhere.

"Is soap 'self-cleaning' because it's soap?" and other important questions.

...and TANGENT!

Yesterday, among other things, I went to Borders and bought a book on Yoga. It now occurs to me that I really didn't need to buy a book to tell me how inflexible I am, but this is besides the point. The point is I spent forty minutes in a store I had meant to spend ten in.

Why, might you ask? Well, first there was a forty-something, chunky-gold-necklass-wearing gentleman perusing the yoga section when I got there. It was a very tight space, so I did that little dance that says "OH! No, I didn't actually mean to appear I was interested in the section you are currently looking at! I actually came here to read about Muscle Cars!! Yes, indeedy." (Why books on yoga, cars, and gambling are all in the same aisle is beyond me.) Deciding this was unconvincing I wandered the Reference and Travel sections aimlessly until said gentlemen was finished with his perusing fifteen minutes later.

My second obstacle requires some backstory. Last week my sister and I visted the very same Borders for post-Christmas gift procurement. In our short visit we were hit on no less than three times, each more bizarre than the last and deserving of thick description (but not here). I've decided Kate and I should go out together more often. Individually, we each have our own physical strengths and quirks, but together we are STUNNINGK!

Anyway, one of the hitters-on was a Borders employee, early twenties, who, meerkat-like, popped up and half-shouted "What's up" at us as we passed some fifteen feet away. Hilarity ensued. The Meerkat kid was on-duty again when I went on my Yoga mission yesterday. I took alternate routes when necessary, and at appropriate moments became intensely interested in the carpet.

But really, my greatest difficulty lay in the Yoga section itself. Kids, you could feed a small African nation with all the books there are on Yoga. There doesn't look to be many from a distance, but boy howdy. There's Yoga for pregnant women, couples, "real guys," and old people. There's prop Yoga, giant ball and elastic band not included. There's Hatha, Ashtanga, Iyengar and several other unpronouncable Yogas. In the words of Thoreau, "To some extent, and at rare intervals, even I am a yogi." And how could he not be? Have you seen the section at Borders? There's a lot of Yoga out there, folks.

In the end I picked the book with the nifty index. Indexes are important. So says my undergraduate education.

So I've made peace with my inner Yogic consummer. And just so this is clear, I am unable to touch my right shoulder to my inner thigh and grab the outside of my right foot with my left hand. Tragic, but notable. This said, I do sleep immensly well after trying!