This one time? At yoga camp?

So, we're still alive. Sometimes crawling and often complaining, but alive nonetheless.

Every morning on our way into Boston, (because we carpool, because we were guilted into it, because our yoga teacher guilts us into all kinds of earthy-crunchy things like reusing plastic utensils and not eating animals and homeschooling our unborn babies, etc.) every morning in between last-minute sanskrit cram sessions, we say to each other:

"Hey, remember that blog we started? What happened to that?"

Not in unison. That would be weird.

And then we shrug and promise to post tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe at the end of the week when we start to remember how to do things with our hands other than support various parts of our bodies that probably shouldn't be leaving the ground.

We say it's because we're tired.

And it is, kind of. But also? We're sort of stumped. Because it's easy to come home and write about little things we think are silly, or crack jokes about the ridiculous ways we occasionally spend our time.

What's hard is writing about something that's actually pretty amazing. Without sounding like we're looking to start a cult.

So, to sum it up in no uncertain terms:

We love yoga camp.

Now, if you'll excuse us, we have tempeh burgers to eat and secret societies to form.