Full steam ahead. Spring kicked through the frost and burst onto Encinitas today. At least, it felt that way this morning. The Oldsmobile’s on-dash computer claimed it was 59 degrees!
Of course, it is a 1990 Olds. It probably has an analog computer, if such a thing is possible.
Does this surge of heat signal the onset of spring? One would hope.
I died by inches at work this week. Stuff to do, but I don’t want to do any of it. After all, on Tuesday my plane ticket arrived in the mail. It’s strange to hold months of hoarding, penny-pinching, budgeting and planning in the palm of your hand.
The strange and wonderful road my life has taken has been distilled into four thick, heavy rectangles of paper. At least airlines print tickets on a cardboard-type stock, which gives this particular ticket the physical gravitas to equal its psychic and emotional weight.
I sent my “letter of intent” to the shala yesterday. I hope it gets to Mysore in the next five weeks, because it needs to get there before I do. I wonder if getting there before your letter is like showing up with the proverbial egg on your face? Or beef, in the case of a strict Brahmin household.
So I should hope five weeks is enough for a letter to make it through the international mails. I would prefer to send it with someone traveling to Mysore to hand-deliver, but everyone from Encinitas (and even my acquaintances in LA) have already departed.
I also enclosed my $60 cashier’s check to the Indian consul in San Francisco for my visa, which should be here in two weeks.
God. Plane tickets, money for yoga, visa, letter of intent. I need to save for rent, food and spending money (you know, the non-essentials), but otherwise it’s all coming together. What remains? Car storage and cell phone. What am I going to do with my car and my phone? I could always drive my car off Moonlight Beach cliff and into the Pacific, and sail the phone after it. Tempting, I know, but there’s got to be a better way.
Tomorrow I’ll practice, creep to work, then sneak out early to assist in Anne’s Mysore class down in San Diego.
She has a nice space—it’s large, well lit, and gets some semblance of heat going. She has a regular bunch of devoted students, as well, who have great practices. I thoroughly enjoy the experience. It’s an instance when I have absolutely no notice of the passage of time. I look up at the clock and two hours have gone by. Pretty neat.