New Years Resolutions or, How to Let Go

So among my new years resolutions this year was to do yoga. I mean really do yoga, like regularly. I've done yoga in the past, and tried a few different types, but this year I was like, YEAH. I'm gonna DO YOGA.

Fortunately Frenchy's cousin gave me a voucher for some free classes for my birthday. Because, you see, I'd already been all, YEAH I'm gonna DO YOGA a month before new years even rolled around. And after three weeks of absolute nonstop travel craziness, and one weekend of absolute rest, I decided that this would be the week to just do it.

So we agreed that tonight was the night, since I play soccer on Tuesdays and Thursdays, the yoga schedule is apparently funky on Wednesdays, and while Caroline could do Friday, Frenchy had already planned a Guitar Hero raclette dinner for Friday night. How's that for an awesome combination?

Tonight I raced out of work by 6:30 in order to be home and changed and back out the door by 7:30 so we could be there and signed in and whatnot in time for our 8pm class. Which is also when I made a VERY BIG MISTAKE. I changed my Facebook status and announced my yoga-with-Frenchy intentions. Well off we went, on what was supposed to be a 10 minute motorbike ride to rue St. Jacques. Except that somehow what Frenchy thought was rue St Jacques was really Avenue Rapp, and nowhere near St Jacques.

So we drove some more and finally arrived at the right street. And Frenchy goes, "Ok! Run! Warmup!" And I'm pretty sure I heard him say something about number 21. Which was funny because when we were running I happened to look up at the numbers and we passed 392.... 388... For a moment I thought maybe I didn't hear the "3" in "321." But no. He really said "21." At or around this time we turned around and started running back to the bike. By then it was 7:58 and I could only imagine the condescending and irritated look on the face of not only the yoga instructor, but on every single student in the class when we arrived, out of breath, 20 minutes late.

So we went home. The long way. Because, you see, not only did we get lost on the way TO yoga, WE GOT LOST ON THE WAY BACK!

And so I ask you. What is the point of having a Parisian fiance who doesn't know his way around Paris???

Hmmmm. I guess because he cooks you nice food when you get home from your non-yoga class...