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Yes, today is a moon day. I was conflicted about practice. My last moon day practice sucked! I specifically said that I wouldn’t make the mistake of practicing on a moon day again. Uh, yeah. Well. Mysore practice is only offered on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. My greed won.

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How did I know it is a moon day? Well, I kept seeing this little white tag on the outside seam of my left leg, right around the calf. What is that? Why have I never noticed it before? I wondered in bharadvajasana. Whatever.

As I walked out of the shala, it caught my eye again, and being freed from the haze of asana practice, I knew right away. I had my pants on inside out!

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Did anything else happen that was lame or otherwise punitive-in-response-to-my-criminality? No. Very much no.

How about this:

I got the balls of my feet fully in my hands in kapotasana. Furthest I’ve ever been, by far. Woohoo! The Poetess was practicing beside me, and she got up and pressed down on my elbows when I had my toes. That gave me space to move my hands up a LOT (isn’t it funny how a LOT in kapotasana can be measured in inches and fractions thereof?). Anyhow, I was psyched.

Second thing: I landed the jump into bakasana for the very first time. Totally surprised me. It wasn’t from a fully stretched out down dog, but still. My usual MO is to try it once from a full down dog, then another from a full down dog, then one where the length of the DD is halved, then half again, and then I just do a plain old bakasana for 5 breaths. Today, though, I just took the short stance and landed it. I fell off pretty quickly due to surprise, but if I can do it once…

The Poetess and I did a synchronized practice from kapotasana through karandavasana. Great fun.

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Waylon’s first obedience class with the trainer I used with Ty was last night. He did marvelously well, in part because we had the class outside and it was about 105 degrees. Which isn’t as bad as it sounds, non-desert-dwellers. It is tough on Waylon, though, since his short muzzle means his cooling system is compromised. The heat, though, makes him a better student; basically, he’s too hot to fight against the commands.

We got there a few minutes early. A couple of other dogs were there, at the other end of the park. Waylon and I walked down into the grassy area where class is held, and he immediately found and waded up to his ankles in a thick mud puddle. Then he ran into the long, lush grass on the side of the hill. As all of the other dogs and owners assembled and the teacher showed up, Waylon was rolling luxuriously on his back in the long grass, snorting and chewing clumps of the green stuff and waving his mud-caked feet in the air.

Really, his name is perfect. He is such a good old boy.