Hatchling of Paradise.

Two months ago, I very publicly stated my intention to "master" the Bird of Paradise yoga pose before the end of the year. I like a good challenge, and bending myself in strange ways ranks right up there with things like riding a unicycle and taking up hunting. (Author's note: While I'm game to try a yoga pose and ride a unicycle, there is no foreseeable way I would ever take up hunting. So, it's really nota good comparison, but does add emphasis. You get the idea.)

Allow me to enter Exhibit 1, The Bird of Paradise:

Two months ago, this is where I started, which we will agree to refer to as Exhibit 2:

But, in the last two months, I've really been holding up my end of the deal. I've taken a private yoga lesson with the world's best yoga teacher. (Author's note: a yoga teacher is technically called a "yogi." See the things that I've learned?!). I've also been practicing. A lot. Most of this practice is done alone, in a dark room, with the curtains drawn, and a steady stream of positive self-affirmations. But some of it is done before the gawking and confused eyes of my husband and son, who are simply trying to figure out what in the hell I'm doing. But most of this yoga is done with the help and involvement of my dog, who is convinced that this pose is best done under his careful guidance and supervision. I would imagine this could be distracting, but the great news about not really know what you're doing is that you don't know if you've been distracted. So, ultimately, my Bird of Paradise may incorporate a dog. But, as the yogi says, it's "my yoga, my way."

I wouldn't say I have it. I wouldn't say I'm even close, but I'm at least now upright with it. As of today, I'd say I'm right about here, also known as Exhibit 3:

 But with a dog involved.