17.9.10

The Three Musketeers

This past Friday my brother graduated from his program at the LA Recording School. My dad flew out there from Argentina and I hopped on a plane to meet them. Here's a photo of the three of us on Rodeo drive:

I know my brother is taller and has the "thug" look down to a T, but at least I'm not balding like he is and didn't get my grandmother's thunder-thighs.

It was an interesting weekend as I hadn't spent this much time with my dad in years. We drove around LA, did some shopping, got a bite to eat at The Ivy in Santa Monica, and hung out with Paco.

Whilst in DC we spent Sunday walking around Georgetown and on Monday we took the double-decker tour bus. Weather couldn't have been better for the tour. Exhausted from all the traveling, drinking, eating, and family-time I promptly checked my brain out for the next few days and am now finally recovering. Just in time to play host for the in-laws.

Diary of Mad Yogi: Talk about "Power" Yoga!

In the couple of weeks I've been a VIDA member I haven't had much time to test-drive their classes/instructors. Part of me has been hesitant as they're already announcing an upcoming schedule change that will shuffle instructors, what classes they teach, etc. I still have to get my ass to the gym so I've been on the treadmill a few times and attended a few yoga practices.

My first VIDA yoga class was on a Friday afternoon down at the Verizon Center location. The class was billed as a Power Class, described as a dynamic flow of poses focusing on strength building. To prepare myself mentally I show up way too early, spend 15 minutes trying to find the studio on the 4 floors of gym facilities, get settled, then realize there's a lady doing stretches that looks like Gumby and all I can do is hope she's not in the class. Time crawls by and the instructor finally shows up. Bendy lady leaves. Instructor explains she's a sub, puts on some music, and the class gets started. First weird thing: I'm the only guy there. As we're going through class, it becomes evident this is going to be a pretty mellow practice. We're not holding poses very long and going through a simple series A and B structure. Second weird thing: the flow between poses was off. Maybe I had gotten too accustomed to Kevin's Baptiste style or how the other instructors at Results went through the series, but this lady had me teetering off-balance constantly and my limbs kept repeating going on muscle memory to the next pose and I'd have to pay extra attention to see what she wanted us to do. Last weird thing: playing reggae music during yoga. I'm all for opening my mind to different styles of music. But listening to "no woman no cry" while trying to build strength in yoga just doesn't mesh.

Somewhat disenchanted by my first yoga experience at VIDA I went back to the schedule and found one of my Results instructors has an early Saturday morning class. Faith is fun, tough, and has helped me push my practice. Let me tell you that going to yoga at 9AM on Saturday is one of the most unnatural things I have ever done. I was awake but my body wasn't. My legs felt stiff, my shoulders were cramping, and in general a bit tired. No matter how I felt at the start of the class, 10 minutes into it my joints and muscles warmed up and I was moving like a well oiled machine. The adrenaline rushing through my head from a good practice made me feel good about getting up early for yoga and revived my interest in trying other classes at the gym.

Fast forward a week of inactivity due to crazy work schedules and travel, and I'm back in DC trying to do yoga. It may just be me, but I keep getting messed up on the VIDA website. Yesterday I looked up the evening class schedule and saw Mimi (Budokon) lady was teaching a Power class at 6:30. Bingo! That would certainly be a class I'd enjoy. Following a productive day at the office I head home to kill some time then walk over to the gym. The hands on the clock swing to 6:30 and a lady plugs her ipod into the stereo. Oh-no, not another sub. I was correct, but as she introduced herself she said she was subbing for Monica (???) and this was a vinyasa flow class. Despite my confusion I stayed put and followed the practice. It was certainly mellow, not very challenging, but good to get warmed up. VIDA doesn't leave any time between classes, so as soon as we were done people rushed in to set up for the next class starting in less than 5 minutes. I check the schedule and find Power Yoga with Ursula is next. Feeling rather bendy, warmed up, and with nothing else to do at home, I decided to stick around for another round of yoga.

I've been practicing yoga for 4 years now and have been exposed to a sundry of styles and instructors. On my list of "most challenging" you'll find Gregory, Mimi, and that ashtanga class I took at Flow a few times. This Power class is on a different league. Ursula, clearly a Puero Rican no-BS chick, kicked us into overdrive from the first pose. Talking about how she got back from a workshop where her instructor (Baptiste style, yea!) had her hold downward-facing down for 5 minutes, she moved us through series A and built up from there are a frightening pace. Five minutes into the practice I was sweating puddles. A girl next to me had a beautiful practice. She would do this one-legged scorpion hop into chataranga that looked amazing. We kept exchanging looks through the mirror while in wheel as Ursula spoke out like a drill sergeant. We couldn't help but laugh when she would ask us to take it to the next level, holding poses for 8 or 10 breaths. 60 minutes of pushing us hard, I was drenched in sweat from head to toes but feeling like I had shed a month's worth of worry and stress and was ready to take on the world.

This morning I rose unable to raise my left arm and wishing the twitching on my leg muscles would stop, but every bit of pain was worth it.

31.8.10

The end of an era

This is my last week as a Results member. *Sniff*

Early last week rumors started circulating around the blog-sphere that the Mt. Vernon location was going to close suddenly. Rumors were confirmed on Tuesday by an email announcement that the club would close September 1st. Of course this comes in addition to the imminent closing of the U St location.

This was the last push I needed to switch my membership over to the evil VIDA empire. The Mex and I toured their 15th and P location and found it just as modern and cold as any results. Even on a calm Saturday afternoon it felt as cruisy as any gay bar in the city. It'll take some time to get used to that feel. As of lately Results had become the gym where old Dupont homos go to pasture so young or hot the stares weren't as strong.

These last few days, knowing they would be my last, had a bittersweet taste to them. Taking my last Sunday afternoon class and saying good bye to the instructor made me a little sad. On the other hand I'll be glad to leave "the shirtless one" behind in the Monday night class. Last night's class just pissed me off all around. Having done two practices over the weekend, both focused on hips, I asked the instructor NOT to focus on hips. Of course all the bitches in the class started whining and seem to have overpowered my request because we ended up doing a bunch of hip exercises. So much for honoring requests.

Alas, tonight will be my last spin class at Results for the time being. It'll mark the end of 2 years of membership and toss my fitness schedule into a state of chaos. The worst part of this shift is having to try classes, finding instructors I like, and figuring out a pattern for the weeks to come. Blah!

6.5.10

Celebrating Cinco

Ahhh Cinco de Mayo. Everyone thinks it's Mexican independence day but it's really another commercial holiday along the lines of St. Patty's day crunched through the capitalist marketing machine to encourage drinking and sell stuff. This year it even fell on a Wednesday. It appears that wasn't enough to deter the locals from going out to every mexican or latin-themed bar in the District.

At the last minute a few co-workers and I decided to walk down to Rosa Mexicano for a drink to celebrate the holiday. Leave it to a Mexican restaurant to carve out half its seating space for a private party on one of their busiest days. The bar was packed, the waiting list was crazy, so we pushed our way to a somewhat habitable corner of the bar. Sharing a pitcher of sangria and guacamole when you have no surface (i.e. table) to set things on was interesting. We took turns holding the tray of chips and pouring each other refills.

Putting my aversion to bars and loud places aside, it was quite fun. We bitched about family, gossiped about coworkers, and got to know the new guy a little bit.

The best part was getting back home and being sufficiently buzzed that I had no desire to do chores. Instead I set my mind to baking. Crisis ensued when I checked my butter inventory and found there was none left. No butter in the paradigm's household, how could that be?! Thankfully I wasn't lucid enough to sashe over to Whole Paycheck and refill the butter tray. Opening my recipe book I quickly made up my mind and found the brown sugar cookie entry.

There's something about the smell of browned butter, watching the frothy solids slowly sink and turn the color of caramel that just incites comfort and soothes me. Mix it with a generous amount of brown sugar, more butter, and flour and you've got some of the best cookies I've ever had.

Rolling the dough in fresh sugar prior to baking gives them a crunchy shell that balances the soft, chewy center. Yum. I managed to impart some self control and only had one cookie last night. Then another this morning. I've got another saved for a mid-afternoon snack.

MMmmmmMMMmmm... cookies...