Yer Friday Roundup, Again

Musical Friday: Not just the singing of a Beatles anthem in the morning after Nikki's class, but! Nearly 400 people shaking their toned bums to Michael Jackson after Dom's evening class. Even I, Flappy, shook a batwing or two. A quick tug of the forelock to you, Dom (a move I call the 'Dom Salaam'), and thanks.
 
After the class/dance club, I was walking to the hot tub behind two other students. One said, quite sourly, "Well, if people have enough energy to dance, clearly they're not working hard enough in class." Not so! We've been told from the get-go that the yoga gives you energy. I can't count the number of times I've come out of class with a tornado of energy, home and here. Perhaps the sour yogi just didn't like the Jackson music.
 
It was the Bettina's birthday last week, and her roomie Jana and I took her out for dinner. A few weeks into this training, our bodies have started to send the message "PROTEIN OH MY GOD WE NEED PROTEIN." So there I was, sitting with two elegant, urbane European ladies, one of whom had ordered ribs, the other a pulled pork sandwich. Eventually our food was delivered. I tucked into my squid burrito (dang tasty), and looked up to see a scene from a wildlife documentary: both refined ladies had Joker-like grins of barbecue sauce, their eyes and hands firmly fixed on their entrees. Meat! Meat good.
 
Doc go home, Jane go 'waaaaahhhh': Friday night was the last anatomy lecture from Dr. Preddy, whose medical skills are serendipitous, i.e., after sending an audience into convulsions of laughter, he knows what antispaz to administer and how to unkink fatigued muscles. Banner work. I miss him already.
 
It's not all peace and love: never underestimate the territoriality of yer average yogi where mat placement is concerned. If you come into the yoga tent seconds before class begins, and hope to get a 50-strong line of yogis to make room for you, dream on, son. If you make a fuss about the 50 yogis not hopping to do your bidding, be very glad that Dr. Preddy is an emergency physician and knows how to relocate your major arm and leg joints. HONESTLY.
 
This past week my study group delivered Standing Head to Knee, Balancing Stick, and Standing Separate Leg Stretching, and if you want to know the human equivalent of electricity, you should see Bettina on the podium. She starts off calmly and methodically, and then *ZAP* she's a crackling Bikram synapse, words streaming effortless, energy resonating throughout the room. The demonstrators, who are used to doing the postures slower than usual to accommodate the student teachers, are instantly adrenalized and on cue. Damn fine to see.
 
And now to the weekend, where I absolutely intend to learn the dialogue for three more postures, get my laundry and shopping done, and investigate more San Diego wonders. Yeah. Place your bets now.