I'm struggling with the long hiatus between the end of the spring semester and the summer session at my local ballet school. Six weeks is too long, but in my small town there are no other ballet schools, so I just have to suck it up and do barre at home as best I can, workout in the basement to my various ballet-exercise dvds (feeling like a doofus as I do), go to yoga (sigh -- I don't hate yoga, but it's just so... yoga).

I used to be absolutely addicted to yoga, actually. I went four or five times a week to a fancy-pants yoga studio, yog'd through my first pregnancy, could do things like elbow-supported headstands for indefinite periods of time, and read Yoga Journal. I don't know what happened to all that. I moved away from California and my favorite yoga teacher, maybe that was it. So sometimes I wonder if my current somewhat insane interest in ballet won't go the way of yoga, fading into a mild interest that results in attending the occasional class and doing some plies at home. Who knows? I guess it doesn't matter. I love it now.

So, tomorrow I'll go to yoga, but as I'm doing surianamaskara A, I'll be thinking brise vole. Yes I will.