I have been laughing to myself about this phrase for a few days now since returning to a yoga studio, which, is kind of unusual anyway. I am a repeat-yoga-dropout-offender. When living in Boston my man and I decided to try yoga together. He: jovial jolly Pacific Islander, me: uptight skinny white girl. We plod up the steps to the top floor of a schwanky place around Newbury street hoping for some enlightenment. He was the biggest and darkest man in the class with a family lineage familiar with the Sanskrit since before you or I were on this earth. So it was HILARIOUS when our instructor, a fellow white girl, ended class by mispronouncing his name as she bowed in respect with "Namaste Hardup"! IT.WAS.AWESOME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! How do you not laugh after that?! You would be proud of me, I didn't cackle but I almost snorted and I definitely was grinning ear to ear. I think it was the third and last class we went to. There were so many cute bars to visit instead!
Baby G is asleep now and I am looking up stuff like this on the internet while listening to some RHCP: