one of these things is not like the other . . .

although yoga is not solely a feminine pastime, the ratio in the classes i have taken predominantly lean that way.  we do find the occasional guy in class.  most, like the rest of us, wander in, place our mats, find our sit bones and do our thing.  yoga is not about the others in the room, it's a pretty personal thing.

but this morning, in strode one of Florida's infamous Good Old Boys.  a potty mouthed, hung over, Seminole loving, golf playing, bear of a man, who plopped himself down next to me in a spot not large enough for the parking.

how do i know he had a potty mouthed?  probably because he managed to squeeze out the same four letter word five times in as many sentences. not to say my mouth is virginal but somehow Om and Sh*t  seem juxtaposed under the circumstances and the GOB, being in his late 40's to early 50's should have known better but was in fact, so hung over from the FSU win last night, he declared his slurred happiness for all to hear.

somehow after being shocked that football was not my main interest in life, he asked where i was from and misinterpreting, decided i was from Ireland.  sigh.  he then proceeded to rattle off a check list of things needing attention at my home since i was not used to the cold.  did i cover my plants, did i bring in my pets, did i bring in my husband.  i caught joanie, who was safely ensconced on the far side of me, rolling her eyes.  i could see the two girls on the other side of the GOB scurrying their bodies and mats to slots west of their current location posthaste. 

it was not that the GOB was new to yoga . . . he actually knew his stuff . . .  it was more that he had no concept of personal space and long about the time his legs were sprawled either into my lap or that of the hapless soul who ended up on the other side of him that i finally shuddered.  but it was merely the beginning and when he started to overheat and stripped off his shirt  i actually felt myself thinking about convulsing.  fur.  there was fur everywhere.  "GOB, please put your shirt back on." i wanted to hiss.  but the GOB was happily Threading his Needle and i was left searching desperately for my 'within', pleading with the Lord to make him cover up before his fur plastered, sweat dripping, puffy body made contact with mine.

One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?

Did you guess which thing was not like the others?
Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?
If you guessed this one is not like the others,
Then you're absolutely...right!

snort!