This will probably be the only time I publish a post without a photo; I’m such a visual person that the notion is strange. But words can (and in most cases, do) stand on their own. I survived my photo-free long weekend. I thought I would feel anxious and adrift, some of my friends even joked about withdrawal kicking in. But, surprisingly, I was fine. Leaving my camera at home meant giving myself permission to gaze at dry desert hills and vast lakes and stand in awe under a bright blue moon without the usual impulse to take all of it with me. My trip was moment to moment, laugh to laugh, one wine glass to the next (and the next). It was wonderful.
I take a class called Restorative Yoga: it’s a lot of stretching and massaging and opening up stiff, sore muscles. We don’t do any…
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