Yesterday was a good day.

It started out good: clear, crystal blue sky and sun. Very rare in polluted Milan, and there hasn't even been a traffic ban lately. Then, yoga. Gerta was in an extremely good mood-- "It's sunny today, and now we get to come to Yvette's yoga class". She's so cute when she gets enthusiastic.

And it was an exceptionally good class, one of the best. Why this is, I'm not really sure-- Yt always seems to teach a good class, but they do seem to be even better when all the students are at roughly the same, relatively advanced level. Relatively is the key word here, although some, eg. Giselle, are way too good. Started out good, when? 17 months ago is when I started. I've made a lot of progress, but she's gone all amazing. I'll bet she's good at practicing at home, too. And she's got her own mat, which I do (a thin travel one), but she brings hers to class. And she's so thin-- no, slender. The more I think about it, the more annoying she is. Shame she's so sweet, or I could have a good ole time resenting her. But I digress, although isn't that what diaries are for, so who cares. Anyway...

A very good class. She worked us hard, but just at the right level. Some one said it was the energy. A bit of an airy-fairy concept for me, but probably accurate. I mean, we all stayed up, steady, during tree. Very rare, for any class. Usually it's rather windy in at least someone's universe.

At the end, of course, BG had to spoil it-- secondo me, at least-- by suggesting a group hug. Of course, after a group yoga class, and a damn good one at that, it would be rather churlish to refuse. Then we started clapping, and Ms. NA said we shouldn't be doing that as it would disipate or disrupt the energy or some-such. Personally, I think it restored it after that silly group hug.

Rescued my coat, all buttons replaced, from the tailor. He left the bottom back vent one rather loose, but I've decided to forgive him, even thought that really annoys me. He is right in that it's easier to walk in. Of course, I forgot my belt. Tailor2 was chuckling; apparently, it's happened before. And I understand every word he said, and I didn't make any silly italian mistakes. At least, I don't think I did.

Yes, it was a day for discovery and renewal.

First, the discovery. Last Thanksgiving Eve (a Friday in Milan-time, as no European employer is willing to give Americans, and the Italians/Brits/S. Africans/Turks/Slavs/etc. who want to feast with them Thursday off), as I was putting the final touches on my pre-feast preparations, I was unable to find the bulb to the turkey baster. Found the tube just fine-- but useless with out the bulb. I searched, and searched. Had W search. Then Nigel shows up with the guest of honor (a British turkey, as per usual. I like the irony.) We three then spent an hour or so alternating between trying to extract the still-frozen neck from the nether regions of the GOH (somebody really hated that turkey), and searching for the damn bulb. Even took out all the kitchen drawers, the baseboard under the kitchen unit, searched inside every pot and every pan. No bulb. Ended up shoving the turkey in the oven the next morning and running to La Rinascente to buy a new baster. They do not, of course, sell replacement bulbs. Luckily, they did have basters. I assumed that the bulb would have miraculously reappeared when I got back and it was time to baste. Or the next day.

I found the bulb yesterday. In the cupboard, to which I had assigned the #2 probability of containing the damn thing at the time. It was under a set of nesting strainers that W swears he searched. I left it there.

On the renewal front, my unkillable chives that finally died when it snowed last December have decided to grow again. Guess I didn't kill them after all. I had left the dead stalks flopping over the side of the window box, looking depressing. I figured I'd "get to it tomorrow", as you do. For three months. Got to it yesterday, which is when I noticed the new green stalks poking up, growing for all they're worth. Perhaps the dead vegetation protected the roots-- looked like straw anyway-- and that's what saved them. I've decided, in fact, that it did. Turn sloth into a virtue, that's what I say. I do hope removing that stuff doesn't kill the new sprouts, though. Wouldn't that be a kicker? I hope not-- it's easy to go to the grocery and replace a basil plant when it keels over and Lord knows I've done it enough, but chives are hard to find in Italy.

To finish the day nicely, SMA still had the 94 Barbaresco. Not as good as the 95, of course, but for 10 Euros I'll be the last to complain. It was, of course, delicious. Still have almost half left (I must be slipping), so that gives me something to look forward to tonight. Although I do have PWA tonight-- rest of the day's free though.