I regretted it the moment I stepped off the train. It’s ridiculous to think that my own mind is so filled with judgment that I assign judgment to others, and it’s even more ridiculous that my sense of shame over something as harmless as taking a picture is so overly developed that I couldn’t bring myself to snap an innocent photo. Blurgh.

That graffiti has been my white whale ever since. Every time I step onto a train car on any line, I look for that tag. I told myself that no matter what, if I ever saw it again, I would take the picture and post it for all of you to enjoy.

Then finally, about two weeks ago, I saw it. I was on the R in the middle of the afternoon and the car was only half-full, but still I found myself having to talk myself into getting up, traversing the narrow expanse of train between me and it, and getting the picture. In fact, I waited until just before my stop to do it, and even then I made a concerted effort to feign nonchalance (“Oh! Why look at that! A quaint piece of graffiti that I’ve never stalked seen before!”).

I’m absurd. I know. I am light years away from being comfortable as a human being. But while I’m working on it, enjoy the picture below and know that it came at GREAT personal struggle to its photographer.

Sort of.

I was talking to a client the other day and she was lamenting that literature is one of the last bastions to resist collaborative thinking. She used screenwriters and TV writers and think-tanks as her examples, and while I see her point in a lot of ways, I also feel deeply connected to the idea of seeing my own name on a book jacket someday, so there’s that side of it, too.

Anyway, I was just sitting here at my desk doing some work when I vomited up the following paragraph. TAG — you’re it! Feel free to let me know what happens in Comments below…

“I heard the rain before I saw it, heard it shattering against the underbrush shielding the dry earth beneath it. I looked up then, and felt the warm, humid air suddenly whoosh through the open window. It had nowhere else to go. The rains were coming relentlessly, leaving nowhere for the air to go but in through the open window. It swirled above the fan-cooled layers at my feet and whispered into paint-peeled corners. It crept between the pages of our books and curled the edges of my magazines, looking for somewhere to hide. The rains were coming, and even when the sudden shower stopped as quickly as it started, the air stayed where it was hidden and cowered all the same.”

-bfg

Yoga teachers always say that injuries are there to teach us stuff, and naturally even though I can’t actually practice yoga right now, I still feel like I can learn a lot. Here are a few things that my injury has taught me:

1. My boyfriend is awesome. There we are, on a boat, drinking beer and praying quietly that our overwhelming pastiness won’t prevent the picture from showing up on film. He is superb and did all the dishes yesterday and made me buy Bengay, which didn’t do anything for my rib but made my back feel excellent nonetheless.

2. I am carrying around far too much extraneous crap. I went to a lovely chiropractor yesterday (Dr. Thomas at Community Chiropractic in the Slope) who took one look at my giant purse and, after a severe eyebrow raise, weighed the thing. It was 6 lbs. Which isn’t that much…except I had emptied it out because it hurts to carry things at the moment. So that leads me to believe I’m carrying around 12 lbs. or so on my shoulder every day. I always say things like “Oh, but I alternate sides” or whatever, but the truth is, no one needs that much shit all the time so I’m vowing to leave it home. Maybe.

3. I really miss my yoga mat. I’ve been practicing on a Manduka Eco-Lite, which I initially hated, but now love and miss.

4. White wine + Aleve are like PB&J…right?

While I futz around the house like an old biddy and wait for my body to heal itself, maybe you could share some of the highly prized wisdom you’ve gleaned from your injuries? That way we can all benefit from the silly, frustrating, absurd, perfect annoyances that have taught us so much about being in our bodies, even when we might prefer to be somewhere else.

~Patrick Marcus, the phenomenal author I’m privileged to work with on his superb first novel, The Little Red War Gods

And the point is this: if you were to ask a yogi in NYC if they plan to attend the Yoga at the Great Lawn event tonight in Central Park, they might actually  answer in the affirmative (with 12,500 registered and 10,000 expected, there’s a fair chance). And if you were to press the issue, say ask them if they saw so-and-so or were situated by such-and-such, the two of you might actually be able to generate an idea of the spatial relatively that held you both together/apart. You might even say something like: “Were you in Becca’s section? Because she was assisting — I read about it on her blog. Maybe you read it? It’s the best part of my week…” (or something like that).

So be sure to look for one another and maybe me and definitely Pugglesberry (who is from out-of-state, and doesn’t know anyone). See you there!

I took class with my favorite teacher, Cyndi Lee, this week, and she shared with us how she sometimes feels overwhelmed by the awesomeness of yoga. I completely identify with this — do you? Everyday I am amazed that unathletic, quasi-non-committal, addicted-to-wine-and-cheese me can participate in a centuries-old practice that has trained (and freed) my body to do some pretty incredible things. Do you do something that impresses you? Not “I’m so super” impressed, but “I can’t believe I get to do this” impressed; “impressed” like “impression,” what yoga has left on my soul.

Today I got to teach almost 40 people in the middle of Union Square, right in front of the statue of George Washington. I was a little anxious about my voice being amplified and being sort-of central to an event that a lot of passers-by looked at, but you know what’s wonderful about New Yorkers? Nothing phases them. Subway broke down and forced to take a bus? No problem. Have to live in tiny spaces for exorbitant fees? We got that. A few dozen people doing down-dogs at 8am in the middle of USQ? Whatever. Ask those yogis to sit and watch the breath for a few minutes amid the hustle and bustle of NYC? Hell, they’ll try anything once.

And I hope you’ll try this, an impromptu summer red sauce recipe I’m making right now. I can hear the cherry tomatoes pop-pop-popping as I click-clack away on the computer. Below the recipe you’ll find a picture of a few of my favorite things at the moment: a new purse with oodles of outside and inside pockets (Filene’s in USQ — amazing!), Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell, and a new ruled Moleskine journal I got today (because summer just seems like the perfect time to scribble in a lovely book).

Bon weekend!

1 lb. of your favorite pasta (I’m using whole grain cappellini because I have it on hand)

2 pints cherry tomatoes

8 cloves garlic, minced fine or smushed & diced

olive oil

3 Tbsp. butter

good white wine

parmesan

salt and pepper

In a large sauce pan, sautee the garlic in 1 Tbsp. butter and a healthy dose of olive oil. When soft, add a few splashes of white wine and add the tomatoes. Sautee a minute or two until tomatoes have some color on their bellies. Add another Tbsp. of oil, the remaining butter, and enough white wine to cover the bottom quarter of the tomatoes. Sprinkle with salt and pepper to taste. Cover tightly with lid and turn heat to medium-low. Wait. Don’t lift the lid. The tomatoes will burst and thicken the sauce. When all tomatoes have exploded, grate parmesan directly into sauce (go wild — you only live once). Pour over hot pasta.

Like all of you, I’ve been busy. And naturally the thing to do when you are busy is forget about the extraneous activities in our calendars that don’t make too much fuss when forgotten. This little blog is very subservient and polite and never yells or sets anything on fire when I starve it nearly to death. If you bothered to keep me in your reader, you have my sincerest thanks.

I feel a little overwhelmed about where to take this post. I want to tell you all about the fabulous book I’m reading (Jonathan Strange and Mr Norrell by Susanna Clarke) or the delicious dinner I’m planning tonight (butter-roasted cauliflower with asparagus, roasted red peppers, and hearts of palm dressed in olive oil and fresh ricotta over capellini) or the odd “invisible tank top” phenomenon I observed while attending a recent country music festival, but all in all it seems like too disparate a cacophony for a single symphony. Suffice it to say I’ll elaborate on more immediate (and totally rad) yoga teaching updates below and vow not to be such a negligent ninny in weeks to come.

YOGA NEWS

What: FREE 1-hour OM yoga class sponsored by Lululemon and taught by yours truly!

Where: Union Square, right in the park

When: Starting this Thursday, 6/17 from 8-9am, and for the next three weeks thereafter: 6/24, 7/1, 7/8

More details can be found here at Lulu’s official site.  I took a free Lulu class with Cyndi Lee earlier this year and it was great — Lulu staff are super friendly and open-hearted practitioners and I feel totally honored to guest among their ranks.

Another awesome development? Starting July 11th, I’ll be on OM’s schedule for the Sunday 6pm Express class! Express classes are only $12 a pop and get cheaper with packages (more info here). The only thing that could make having a class on OM’s schedule even more awesome would be getting the opportunity to meet some of BFY’s (delightful, forgiving of long lapses in posting, beautiful) readers.

-related to me by a dear teacher, to whom it was related by a dear friend, to whom it was related by a bit of a ninny

Rotini with Roasted Tomatoes, Asparagus, and Roasted Garlic-Infused Ricotta

(Also, I don’t do measurements. Too much math, not enough eating. So wing it, and combine all of the following:)

1 head garlic, drizzled with olive oil & a few dashes each salt and black pepper. Wrap in tin foil (or make a garlic roasting hut out of two bowls like I did, since I never remember to buy tin foil) and place in 425-degree oven for approx. 25 minutes, or until cloves are golden and soft. Plunk cloves in food processor with a few dollops of ricotta cheese (the full fat stuff — live it up!!), and process until garlic has hidden itself in the cheese so sneakily, the ricotta is only imperceptibly altered visually but the sweet, roasty garlic flavor is INFUSED throughout.

Take 1 28-oz. can San Marzano tomatoes (drained, but reserve juice) and 1 bunch asparagus (trimmed), and toss with a tablespoon or two of olive oil (the good stuff — live it up for real!!). Place in oven-proof skillet and roast in 425-degree oven for 35-40 minutes until veggies look slightly charred on one side (You could turn everything halfway through cooking, but the oven will be super hot, and I don’t like reaching into that thing more than I have to. It makes me feel like the witch from Hanzel & Gretel. You get that, right?). Anyway, carefully remove skillet from oven and place on stove top. Add 4-6 tablespoons of butter and the reserved tomato juice to the pan and let it get all excitable with the pan juices.Tonight I’m going to slice the tomatoes open at this point, since they house steamy tomato juice. You could also leave them whole and let your diners have the thrill of oozing juice all over their own portions. You play god here, so use your power wisely.

Spoon veggies and sauce over your favorite ridge-riddled, high-fiber pasta, then top with heaping scoop of garlicky ricotta. You could sprinkle chopped parsley over all that, but I’m too lazy. Tuck in, ya’all!

Bon appetit!