Yoga Chickie: Unplugged

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First my computer crashed. That was Friday night. I managed to get plugged in again on Saturday afternoon on a borrowed laptop for a brief time, brief enough to post about adopting Baby the Beagle and then losing Baby the Beagle. And then my cell phone got stolen out of my car. While I was parked outside of my SYNAGOGUE! There must be a special place in hell for people who steal cell phones from moms dropping their kids off at Hebrew School. Of course, hell could simply be a place where thieves are too stupid to bother to steal the charger for the phone, which was nearly dead anyway. Or to hot wire the car, for that matter. In any event, as a result, I had to run out and purchase a brand new phone at the non-contract cost, and even worse, I lost my ENTIRE contact list, so if you're reading this, and I'm not calling you, now you know why.

At least I am managing to blog though, because damnnit, the shakes and the sweats were really starting to get to me. I had no idea how addicted I am to this mode of communication. Thank God for Kinkos. I feel like I am in college again as I sit here in a cube in the wee hours (wee for me, at least), typing away on a public computer, a cute guy in a baseball cap typing away to my right, a cup of black coffee to my leftt. Of course back then, email was a novelty, and blogging was merely a twinkle in the eye of some geek (and by "geek", I mean millionaire with a trophy wife, a fleet of Porsches, a ski house in Aspen and, hopefully, a penchant for charitable giving).

Anyway, I won't bore you with the details of my dogged dog-dogging. I will merely say that I have been the Animal Control every day since last week, and every day, I have found another amazingly lovable and wonderful dog that I wished to adopt, and every day, after standing in line for at least an hour, the bureaucrat at the desk informed me that for one reason or another, the dog that I wished to adopt was not adoptable that day. That is correct. Four dogs later, and I am still dogless.

The good news is that each dog I fall in love with is more deliciously adorable than the one before. The bad news is that I am quickly souring on this experience. I mean, wouldn't you, if you found an incredibly friendly, waggy, licking, smiling six-month-old 35-pound shepherd mix and you were JUST ABOUT to walk out the door with him when the desk clerk screams "STOP!! THIS DOG CAN'T BE ADOPTED! We promised the media we would hold him for photographing purposes until October 24!"

HELLO?! Animal welfare? Whose interests are at stake here?

The clerk was apologetic, but brusk. She gave me the name of her supervisor to whom I could make my plea in the morning. So, tomorrow is another day. And as tired of this as I am, the reality is, let's face it...Yoga Chickie is pretty obstinate. And eternally optimistic. So, I would imagine that the dog of my dreams is still in my future. It's just going to take some work.

Oh, and if you're in NYC on Saturday, please consider joining Michele Sonier and me, Christopher Hildebrandt and the rest of the folks at Yoga Sutra for another round of 108 Sun Salutations, this time to benefit the International Society for International Shanti. For more information, go to Yoga For Hope.

YC

P.S. The cute guy in the baseball cap just walked out with his younger, blonde girlfriend. See what I mean? JUST like college.