The women in our yoga class delight in Cliff's presence on his mat.  About three years ago his beginning yoga attendances found him at the back of the room with concern about judgements.  He sat on his mat once a week when Susan taught on Mondays.  She's also our hair stylist.  Well, my stylist.  Cliff just wants a cut and "let me out of the chair."  Susan lives her yoga in her life and was a wonderful instructor for Cliff to start under.  At that time I attended Susan's classes on Mondays and Marie's classes on Wednesdays and Fridays.  The first time I spent seventy-five minutes with Marie, I thought I was going to need CPR before the class was finished. Marie is only a year younger than me  but I found her class so challenging and invigorating that I continued with her.  Before Cliff started attending her classes, he would always ask me what her Wednesday routine was when I arrived home because it gave him plenty of time to decide if he wanted to try her on Friday.  His first class with her brought mumbling, grunts, and groans.  He attempted down dogs and holding planks and relished his restorative child's poses.  Men have more muscle mass than women but men lift and grunt more than women.  When a man enters a yoga class he discovers he can't hold plank and flow into down dogs and up dogs and chaturanga without begging for child's pose.

 Our instructors changed over the years.  Connie came to us two years ago but suddenly was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer and we lost her a month ago.  Just recently Marie retired from teaching and now enjoys being a participant in yoga class.  Anita is four years younger than I am and has just completed her 200-hour certified instructor course in Asheville.  She is now our instructor three days a week and you can almost always find Cliff on his mat three days a weeks.  Regular attending yogis claim their territory by placing mats, blocks, straps, water bottles in their preferred spot.  I also include two Velcro wrist wraps for support. If Cliff's territory is vacant, the women get concerned and inquire on his whereabouts.   On the Monday before last, when I rolled out my yoga mat and he didn't set up beside me, the women asked where he was.  That Monday he was in charge of teaching fire safety to Kindergarten through third grade at Martin's Creek Elementary School.  That Monday he was also exposed to the miserable virus that's floating around everywhere.  By Wednesday his throat was scratchy which kept him from a good night's sleep.  Each day the virus made him a little more miserable but thinking it was just a common cold and had to run its course, he just rested, drank fluids, and waited to recover.  Last night was the worst night he ever experienced.  Even sitting up in his recliner didn't calm the coughing spell that went on for hours and hours.  I made him tea sweetened with lots of soothing honey at 4:30 am which allowed a few hours of sleep without coughing.  At 10 this morning I drove him to the doctor so he could get the cough under control and be able to sleep.  He was so sleep-deprived that he couldn't find the door handle in the Kia when we arrived at the doctor's office for his appointment.  And.........he never picked on me or made comments about my driving!  Instead of sitting in the doctor's office with other sick people,  I went across the street to our gym and walked a couple of miles on the outside track.  The air had warmed up from 35 degrees at 7 am to 50 sunny degrees by 10:30.  I walked the path quietly alone noticing wispy white clouds that looked like painted brush strokes against the blue sky.  

Yesterday I made the best "Cold-Busting Soup" recipe that I've come across in all my researching of soups.

This soup should help Cliff get his strength back so he can take over emptying the dishwasher and cleaning up after my messy cooking.  Emptying the DW is a thankless chore and quite boring.  I'm ready to hand it back over to him.