I finally catch up with my mom back home in Houston. I ask her if she’s been reading my blog and she says she is, but when I ask her some detailed questions, it appears she’s only skimming the blog, not really reading every word. Support! She must’ve felt sort of guilty, because the next time I talk with her, she sounds more plugged in. “Your father says there’s entirely too much cussing in your blog.” Is she serious? “I learned from the best,” I say, referring to my old man. I was in high school before I realized that “dammit” wasn’t what you were supposed to say after you dropped, broke or burned something. I thought it was like “God bless you,” but for mistakes, not sneezes.

“I don’t really understand this yoga. The only thing I know about it is that weird people do it. Why are you so sweaty?” She asks in such a motherlike way. “Well, this type of yoga is yinyasa, which means it’s in a heated room--about 100 degrees.” I explain. “But what about the people? Aren’t they a little strange? This yoga sounds like something our old neighbor Rosie would enjoy. You remember Rosie, the one with the compost heap and the bread baking all the time? Do you have to buy into all that Eastern religious mumbo jumbo?” (OK, lemme back up here and explain that I’m from Texas: beef-eating, beer-swigging, pickup truck driving, gun-toting, George-Bush-loving (doesn’t matter which one), God’s country. Not many bend their ear to hear about meditation and deep breathing.)

I can understand why some people might see yoga as sort of cultish, but isn’t that the case with anything people are passionate about? The same could be said for Dale Jr.’s fans. No matter your beliefs, this 40-day rejuvenation thing has something to offer, forcing you to take responsibility for your health and well-being. I just stick to my beliefs and incorporate the lessons I can learn into my life. And the weird people? Yeah, they’re at yoga, but they’re at church too, God bless ‘em.

~ Sheri Joseph