Icy Exhale

Why Auntie?  Because I AM.  No, really, it’s one of my favorite things to be.  I can be a writer and yoga teacher and famous model chef race car driver and none of it means a damn thing if there aren’t children around to impress the hell out of.  I have been an aunt for almost ten years to Yasmeen, who is both my little dude and perfect angel.  We learn a lot from each other.  We make potions, watch Frasier and The Golden Girls and she likes to explain complicated spiritual matters to me in terms I can understand.  You can see me here, sleeping on the job.

My best friend has a daughter who I consider my own.  She’s even got a few traits of mine, like a love of bananas and a neurosis I think her mother could live without.  It’s like I was some fairy god-mother bestowing gifts upon the babe and she got my temper – ahem – temperament.  This child in particular calls me Nessie, but by all standards I AM still Auntie.
Then my littlest sister goes and gets pregnant and I have a baby boy looking all cute, putting those blue eyes on me, helping himself to all my loving.  After a lunch and Barnes and Noble trip with Auntie he has to go home and make more sugar because I took it all.  Look at me there to the left, getting that sugar!

Now, my middle sister, mother to Yasmeen, is pregnant again and I’m rubbing her tummy and looking at frightening ultra-sound pictures.  It’s one of life’s mysteries, how they get the flash to go off in there without waking the little guy up.  Here is Maxwell drinking like a big boy already.  It’s about time to teach that baby to drink coffee.

By the time my own aunt goes and has a beautiful baby girl, I just walk around feeling all Auntie-like.  There’s that little baby Allie Bug, dressed in pink and snugly as she wants to be.  I’m Auntie all the time.  I’m Auntie of the world.

Some have said that I should be more professional, less Auntie-like and use a grown-up name, like my real one, if I want to be all professional.  My answer to that is no one who wants all reverence all the time is going to be drawn to my writing or yoga classes for very long.  Call me non-compliant.  Call me Auntie.

If you’re interested in my writing, you should know that when I was eleven I began writing in a pastel pink diary and I have been seeking publication ever since.  The first decade of writing had me convinced I was going to write romance novels and make one million dollars.  The second decade had me convinced I was going to write supernatural-romance novels and make two million dollars.  Last year I realized writing from the heart is where it’s at, even if I’m broke sometimes.  One million dollars would still be nice, everyone will get a pony

If you’re interested in yoga, you should know I began practicing yoga when a nail client gave me a gift certificate to a yoga class in 2002.  I attended under duress.  My practice blossoms slowly and methodically until I put down my sword and realize that a career as a martial artist and stunt double is not only dangerous but counter-productive to my spiritual aspirations.  Soon after this concession I enter teacher training where things really get deep and beautiful.

I facilitate classes that are “spirited” flow peppered with moments of technical details.  I believe heating the body is important and cooling the body is important.  This applies to the mind too, so every session ends with a restorative period.

Though lacking defined spiritual or religious context, I incorporate elements of inspiration from a variety of sources which include the writing of Mr. Rogers, Johnny Cash, and Emily Dickinson.