On Fridays I've been going to a class called "Happy Hour Yoga," so called because of the time it's held, from 5-6:15 PM. This class really does coincide with the many happy hours being held at the bars along Pennsylvania Ave, near the yoga studio. Now that it's warm, these happy hours have spilled into the outside seating, so when I go into yoga and when I come out, I walk past a block full of people happily sipping lovely glasses of white wine, with the sunlight shining though the liquid, and tall, dewy pints of cold beer.
I really miss white wine. I really miss beer.
P.S. I did have a delicious virgin pina colada at dinner last night--fresh coconut and pineapple juice. Although I DID note the irony of being pregnant and having to order the "virgin" anything. Ha. (Just as I noted the irony, last night as I was telling Meg about my yoga class, of me saying that I wanted the other women in the class to pay more attention to my pregnancy. It's not a prenatal class, and I am the only pregnant woman who goes. I secretly (well, not so secretly anymore) want them to ask me lots of questions, look admiringly at my belly, and such. I said, "They must be very self-centered.")
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