It was one of the best yoga classes I’ve ever been to.
A dozen or so of us sweated in the warmth of an Arizona August morning and worked through poses as patiently guided by the instructor. Many of us had barely known each other 24 hours earlier, but by the time the yoga class rolled around, we felt comfortable enough to make jokes and drop out of poses in uncontrollable laughter. We didn’t give a hoot that we represented the whole spectrum of skill levels. We even did group and partner poses, with no injuries reported.
Was it a spiritual retreat? An extended ice-breaking session? Yes, and yes, and more.
It was a bachelorette party!
Last week, 18 women (yes, 18) descended on a rental house in Cave Creek, Arizona to celebrate the bachelorette glory of our friend Shannon. You may be thinking, “18? Seriously?” But what you don’t know is that Shannon is a phenomenal woman in a way that would make Maya Angelou herself proud, so the fact that so many ladies turned out for the event really isn’t surprising at all.
What’s more, there wasn’t any petty squabbling or disagreements. Maybe it was because no one felt cramped (more people = ability to rent a bigger house):
Or maybe because we were all grown women who appreciated the chance to get away and relax with other cool women for a couple days. At any rate, everyone got along, and the bride-to-be had a terrific time.
I took two valuable lessons away from the party:
1) Marriage is fabulous. But quality time with girlfriends should never, ever be neglected or taken for granted.
2) I really need to start doing yoga again. Albuquerque folks, any studio recommendations? Hot or not-hot, doesn’t matter.
After the bachelorette party, I stayed in the Phoenix area, but switched gears. My friend Tara and her family live out there, and I took the opportunity to have a great little visit with them. I am consistently in awe of how quickly her kids are growing – we dropped her daughter off at kindergarten, and I didn’t even have to think hard to remember holding her as a tiny peanut of a newborn. And her son (my godson!), a toddler, will be driving any day now, I’m sure.
We played at parks, ate delicious food (including custom-made ice cream sandwiches at a mouthwatering shop called The Baked Bear), visited the Arizona Museum of Natural History (I swear, I like dinosaurs more as an adult than I ever did as a kid), and in general, just hung out and caught up with each other.
Early one of those mornings, I went out for a run. As I trotted along under palm trees, I realized: sometimes you have to fly away to get grounded.
P.S. Thank you Terri Kiening-Ruddell for those two photos in the middle.