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Sometimes I wake up with a light heart, skip food and run to the park like it’s going to leave without me. On these mornings, I can’t wait to run, breathe and stretch my legs all at the same time. That wasn’t me today. This morning I ate a banana and walked to the park dwelling on this place in the Catskills about 1300 feet above sea level. We were going to rent it for a year and move there this upcoming weekend. I WOULD BE PACKING RIGHT NOW BUT… We talked with the landlords and got them to say yes to a cat we don’t yet have but might want. We felt good for a few days, then began to wonder why the delay in receiving the lease vie email. It turned out someone else loved the place so much they made an offer to buy it and our would-have-been landlords didn’t refuse. That was their story anyway. I think Brooklyn’s been trash talking us so we can’t leave.

My runs lately are less about Ahhhhs and more about running off the frustration that is trying to move out of Brooklyn. MoonPie doesn’t mind; he’s the kind of person who can be content in a traffic jam as long as he has entertainment. Me? I applied us both to jobby jobs at Yosemite National Park where new employees get to live in a 10 X 10 foot tent with a bed, a cabinet and a roomie. It sounds pretty fantastic to just put everything in storage, stop looking at a screen for a while and enjoy a few months living and working outdoors.

Indoorsy MoonPie was not amused by this plan. He suggested that – rather than saying See ya to all of our clients and commitments and moving across the country to bake in the sun earning nickles – we expand our search. So some time soon we’ll be taking a train up to Portland, Maine and then another train down to North Carolina, my choice and his choice, respectively. And just maybe, someday, we will be the ones unloading a truck in a new place, taping newspapers on windows – we always lose our curtains – and eating tacos on the deck because I don’t want to live some place that doesn’t have a deck or good tacos. Our little mountain house that wasn’t lacked a taco place so maybe it’s for the better.

For now, this cool drizzly evening is like Why not make banana nut muffins, light a candle, have breakfast for dinner and watch a horror movie? And I can’t think of a reason not to. Lazy nights are a wonderful way to celebrate something. Anything. Tonight, I’ll celebrate my heels touching the mat on a regular basis while in downward dog. It used to be if I took a few days off from yoga all the tightness would return and my heels would be back in the air like the jerks they are. But after completing Adrienne’s 30-Day Yoga Challenge and then Erin Motz’s 30-Day Challenge and continuing a nightly routine, my heels and the mat are buds.

There’s nothing to do about this process of finding a new place to live, but to continue looking AND doing other things, like attempting a 15-mile run this weekend and stalking Milky Chance, hoping they’ll do a secret-but-not-too secret show for those of us who didn’t get tickets in time.

I’m feeling a little empty lately. Yoga and running do so much for the body, but I hear they also feed the mind and spirit if you’re open and not too preoccupied with listings. My good times chamber is running on fumes so, in addition to preparing for my April cleanse, I’m considering A) more human interaction B) a trip to the Hayden Planetarium C) maybe, possibly taking care of my taxes before April 14th.

I vote for B, but the decision will be whichever my mind fixates on. I’m a fixate-er. Maybe there’s a yoga pose for finding a new place to live. And another for fixating less.

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