I just had a long weekend away, staying with my family. Short practices each morning, apart from Saturday (the first time I've actually managed to make Saturday my rest day for some weeks now). It's hard to practice when there's so much else going on! Jump throughs are a little stronger. Ribs seem to have kind of reached a sticking point. They're too sore for me to try working Mari D on the first side still.
Parts of the weekend were lovely, seeing my family, going to Wimbledon (centre court! almost 9 hours of tennis, I can't remember the last time I sat for so long!), lots of nephew time, and very relaxing being away from my PhD. Also, my job interview in Cambridge! I feel like it went OK, now I have a long wait to see if I get offered the role. I would love, love, love the job. Meeting the people, seeing the facilities - and the setting - really did make up my mind. I'm ready for a big change in my life.
Other parts were grim. Someone close to me had some sad news recently, and now has some further health worries. It's not my news to tell, and certainly not to put out there on the internet, but it's been pretty stressful. A call for help/company woke me after I'd dozed off on Friday night and had me running across town and dreading what I'd find (accompanied by what I tend to think of as the atheist's prayer - 'fucketyfuckeytfuckfuckfuck' repeated until crisis finally occurs or is averted). Anyway, there wasn't the crisis I was scared of, a slight false alarm, just the continual ongoing crappiness of worry and ill health. And, selfishly, very little sleep for me and far, far too much adrenaline.
Stressful hospital time on Monday, more stress of course for others, I was just there for extra support.
Nephew and I continue with our mutual adoration. We are the Queen and Crown Prince of the Double Downward Dog. He fits pretty well into the space beneath me, and loves to sneak in and strike up his own asana if he spots me having a good stretch after lying or sitting for too long. He loves to say my name. Aunty Ragdoll! Aunty Ragdoll! Whenever he had to go somewhere 'is Aunty Ragdoll coming?', whenever I put on my shoes 'Where's Aunty Ragdoll going? Aunty Ragdoll coming back?'. I love how he talks things through when he's worried. He wanted to look over and over at a picture of a scary pumpkin (a long story!) and each time told me it was a pumpkin, with a candle, and it was scary, but there was no pumpkin here now, was there? So it was OK. He repeated it over and over to reassure himself.
Lots of sleep on Sunday afternoon, and through the night. In fact I gave up my fight against sleep when Germany went 3-1 up, woke for a brief couple of hours, then back to bed until morning.
Lots of good food, courtesy of my Mum and Mr Waitrose.
Good times with my Dad. My patience with him increases over time. I'm letting things go a lot more.