Two-hour yoga, tennis slice, and other fun stuff

For New Year's Day, I first checked Serenity Yoga to see if there were any classes – there weren't – so I tried Yoga Center Amherst  and saw that they had a two-hour class combining music, chanting, and asanas.

So I signed up and went. It felt like the right place to be. Apparently a lot of other people felt so too. We were packed in. That was OK. It created a good energy inviting you to talk to your neighbor and go with the flow.

At one point when we were left to do our own thing and it got a little confusing, I got into one of my favorite and most calming poses, legs up the wall, supported by a block, only legs in the air, without a wall, like this image from Gaia. (I read someplace that you should do legs up the wall every day. It's a great way to get your thoughts to take a nap.)

I had vowed to take the day off from writing, but that didn't happen. I walked over to the Black Sheep Deli and got a coffee and a treat and sat in a favorite window seat. My resolution of staying calm got hijacked by the the caffeine. I guess going with the flow meant going and getting a coffee and writing.

Next I went to the Hadley Target and found it packed, like the yoga studio, only with a different vibe. It seemed like everyone who wasn't at yoga was shopping.

I had called Monday for my ride to Boston (for the light therapy, or ECP) but everyone had left early. I waited on hold early Tuesday morning for about 45 minutes, and when someone finally picked up, they said they couldn't do same-day service. I remembered to book ahead through February, but in the meantime I drove myself.

Due to accumulating scar tissue in my left arm, the nurse has had to jiggle the needle around. This is not a good feeling. Once in, it stung and then hurt, but some Tylenol took the edge off. Since I have been using two needles, the process goes much faster, around two hours instead of three.

Three sessions ago, I was curious about why my hematocrit was a little low, a little over 29. The curiosity bordered on concern. But two weeks ago it was 32, and yesterday it was 33. (Normal range for women is 34.9 to 44.5.) The doctor who visited me said that the lower count resulted from loss of blood in the procedure.

I slept at Diane and David's and then got up early enough to get to Bay Road on time for my tennis contract at 10. The traffic leaving Newton made me a little nervous. But it cleared up and I made it. We had some good games, but I don't understand what's up with one of the women. Sometimes she's friendly, at other times prickly.

She doesn't like the way I slice when we warm up at the net (says it isn't a good warmup because she can't hit it back), so today I hit it flat. The last time she said it, I said that's how I play, and I continued to do it, but in the interests of a good warmup, I did it differently today.

One of the players in George's summer group said that when she goes to Florida, her slicing gets everyone mad, so it must be the same effect. It's hard to change, because when we're with George, we hear about it when we DON'T slice. By the way, it works pretty well in a game.

Roger's backhand slice

Then, when she was at the net warming up, she didn't think I got enough to her, and she complained that she wasn't getting a good warmup. THEN when, in between points, I hit the ball over to her and said "heads up," or "coming," (one of the two) it didn't come near her, but she said something in an annoyed tone because she didn't like the way I sent it back. I'm still not sure what the problem was. I think maybe she wanted me to throw it instead of hit it. If I had thrown it, it wouldn't have gone very far.

Geez Louise.

I've been on the verge of saying something to her, and some day I might, but it hasn't come to that. Some day when we're warming up, maybe I'll ask to either be with her or hit opposite someone else and say that the reason for it is that she doesn't like the way I hit. Maybe that will get the point across that I've paid George and The Enfield Tennis Club a lot for that slice and I'm not going to give it up.

New kid on the block

Yesterday, after I played tennis at 8:30 a.m. with a group of seniors at Bay Road Tennis, one of the men told me, "You're too young to play. You have to be at least 65." I think he was kidding.

Turns out they are in their 70s and even 80s. Some of them look their age; others do not. They have obviously played forever and are good at what they do, including crazy spin and perfect placement. The only difference is that I run after the loose balls while they take their time.

I looked over at one player who looked younger and asked, "What about him?"

"Oh, he is in his 70s and he has two stents and no prostate." I'm not sure what the prostate thing has to do with tennis, but we'll just leave that be. It's just $12 for non-members, so I'll do it regularly except for going to a mixer once a month.

Thursday, I met a nice Jiffy Lube guy who, after seeing my yoga mat in my car, said he does yoga, and although the other Jiffy Lubers laugh at him, it's what keeps him in shape. The others can't believe he is 45. I told him to say hi to his yoga teacher Susan Moore, who had been my physical therapist.

I liked him because he did not try to sell me extra stuff, except for the air filter which I needed because a critter had chewed around the edge. He said if you take the filter out and put a dryer sheet on top, you will deter the critters. I told him I was overdue because I keep trying to come on Tuesday to get the discount but find the lines too long. He found another code to give me the discount "just because I like you."

On Wednesday, a new driver took me to Boston. I called the driver from last week and asked him not to take me if he has to be on the computer and on the phone. He said he has to dispatch and would send me another. As loud as the Turkish boss was, this driver was so quiet I could barely hear him. That was fine with me.

When I got to the Kraft Blood Donor Center, I found out that all the beds were taken by patients who had ports, and I would need to sit in a chair. At first I was unhappy because I thought it was the same reclining chair that had given me a backache, but it turned out to be a new heated chair that even vibrates as though you're in a nail salon. I got so relaxed I dozed on and off sooner than I usually do.  From across the room, a patient was telling my nurse, Roberta, about his cleansing diet. He started talking about the protein drinks he takes, and then Roberta talked about her own concoction, and one thing led to another until she was pulling up photos of wheatgrass on the computer screen and saying how good for you it is. Esther brought over some Halloween candy and opened it for me. These distractions almost made me forget the big needle in my arm.

In this way, the time passed, and before I knew it, I was done.