I didn’t tell you that my sister Liz and I went to Kripalu. In October! I’ve been holding out on you. I have secrets.

Kripalu is advertised as a place to “immerse yourself in everything that is yoga,” so it might have been a curious choice for me, a person who isn’t really the yoga type. I mean I like it well enough. I relied quite heavily on Yoga With Adriene during the pandemic. But I’m not the most flexible human there is. And the Yoga With Adriene classes that I chose were mostly ones like “yoga when you’re feeling sad” (20 minutes of corpse pose) and “yoga when your soul hurts” (fetal position with alternate-nostil breathing). Also, I lose patience with yoga when I have to do it somewhere that’s not in my home. The chanting and the prayer hands; the swishing of yoga pants as people pad around, gathering their bolsters and blocks. Feet. People, is what I’m trying to say. People.

But it was my sister’s birthday, and I wasn’t paying for any of it! So off to Kripalu we went. And it turned out to be great. I didn’t have to do any more yoga than I wanted to; we mostly lounged around, read, got massages, and poked at each other during evening yoga, while an impressively bendy throuple in front of us shared smooches.