Street Parking in NYC

We pulled our Mini from the garage two months ago to try out street parking. 

Spaces on the weekend in our neighborhood aren't difficult to find, often right in front of our house. The week, however, is much trickier both because our street is blocked off during school days and street cleaning requires alternate side parking.  Each street from south to north has a no parking window, like "No Parking Monday & Thursday 9-10.30AM." Then the next street north would have "No Parking Monday & Thursday 9.30-11AM." The opposite side of the street has "No Parking Tuesday & Friday 9-10.30AM."

Bryan has how and when and where to move the car down to an elegant effortless science, but when he goes out of town and I have to move the car, it becomes an inelegant effort — with the car ending back up in a paid lot.

Yesterday morning at 10AM, I take our car out of the paid lot where it had been for 24 hours (I gave up on Thurs), to move it. My plan was brilliant — find a spot that will be legal in 30 minutes and just sit in and wait. I put on NPR and start to circle blocks but am finding nothing. Suddenly, there's a great little spot my Mini can fit in in back of the school. After I smartly and snugly park, I get out to realize that it's available only because one cannot park there because of the school. I get back in, continue to circle, listening to NPR's analysis of the the governor's Senate pick, and circle and circle. 

This goes on for more than an hour before I give up. There's still time to make this experience worse, and I do. I drive the car with me to mid-town to work and only find no spots and a more expensive garage for the day.

Brilliance fades — I am novice.

Ethnography-wise , it is fascinating.

Walk along a street 30-60 minutes before the deadline and you see people smarter and earlier than I was, sitting in their cars, waiting and waiting. It becomes a cultural habit, and if you look closely, you can see that they're listening to the radio, doing their nails, talking on the phone, drinking coffee, reading a magazine. 

I want to knock on their windows to solicit advice, curious if I'll be warmly welcomed into this brotherhood of street parking or if the secrets are kept because the competition is so fierce.

Yoga : Just breathe

I started my beginner's course in Yoga, and it's not a stretch to say it's good for me.

Bryan's been into it for awhile, and he suggested I try it at the Joschi Body Bodega, which offers a four-week beginner's course. I did this on the one condition that no one expects me to become a vegetarian (my unspoken fear is the movement is a cult to vanquish cheeseburgers).

First breaths, first stretches

The first lesson, this past week, was really stimulating, and despite a challenging stuffy nose, I arrived on time with my own mat (mat on the mat, i know) and a class of about 8. 

The instructor is friendly, clear and helpful. She reminded us to do what feels right to us, not try to do everything right. The first class was warm-up exercises and you could feel your whole body work into it, stretching dormant muscles as you figured out to breathe in and out with the right moves. 

We introduce ourselves and she probes any injuries of which she should be aware (I ask if she means "emotional or physical?"). Several people in the group are not really beginners but luckily the guy to my right is not only a beginner, but he is incredibly inflexible, sent here by his daughter. 

Even after just one hour and half lesson, I have a favorite pose — the one where you thread your arm under the other and lie down fetally on your side. It pulls on your shoulder but if you focus a bit, you could really rest (i.e. nap). The famous downward dog is no problem, though I utterly lack grace getting into it and out of it. The plank position is brutal and it gets me very close to flashbacks to pushups from brutal varsity tennis training. I am looking forward to when I can smoothly move from pose to pose; it must be very gratifying.

While I am not particularly athletic, I like to think I am. 

For one, I can wear an 'athletic fit' Hugo Boss suit. I also played tennis a lot throughout childhood and middle and high school. What most people do not know is that I did gymanstics as a kid. In fact, the only reason I really stopped was because my favorite exercise was the mat exercise (another mat on mat joke goes there) and I was furious to learn that boys weren't supposed to do their floor routines to music the way girls did. It's utter discrimination, no? I mean, how can you have a theme song if you have no where to play it publicly?!?! (I think there's a piece of blog journalism in this alone.)

I'm trying to figure out if yoga is more of a fitness or spiritual thing. I asked this in class, and I got a "whatever you want it to be" answer. Yoga is like that. Anything goes, suggestions, but no direction. Everything's just terrific and everyone's wonderful. But do this. Try this. Touch your toes.  Even trying to figure out where you stand in the class is a big no-no.  Competition is antithetical to yoga. 

I try not to think of where I rank out of the eight... as I do the sun pose.