The Hudson Valley is in a bucolic, dreamy state of sunshine and refreshing breezes. East Coast flora is different than West Coast flora. I remember the trees and flowers of my childhood in Connecticut, but I don't remember their names. The Dogwood blooms are the only certainty. There are flower scents that the breeze picks up -- like the jasmine on the back porch of Jennifer's house, but not jasmine. Delicate and sweet, though; not the musky perfume of lilacs that should be blooming in another month.

Lilacs are amazing, and they don't grow in Northern California. When I lived with my Dad in Glastonbury, CT in the 7th and 9th grades, the driveway was not lined with the Christmas trees from dates before I was born as it was in East Granby; rather, it was lined with more than a dozen lilac bushes. The smell was delicious. Heady. We would bring in large bouquets and their gift of perfume would envelop the inside of the house. And, in my opinion, there is no better color purple.

I'm going to have to do some research on the trees and the flowers and get back to you.

I went to a yoga class today -- the first time in many months. The teachers have New York accents, and their studio is a hybrid of dojo and yoga studio. They make you wear a t-shirt they give you in ascending colors of ability, and use their mats (for legal reasons...odd). But, the yoga teachings are yoga teachings. The owners, Raj-Yogi, and his wife Cathy, are personable, and seem to know details about each student. That's impressive and speaks for their dedication to their students - rather than to the bottom line. Or being super duper yoga cool that runs rampant across California.

I think a little authority and imposed discipline will be very, very good for me. I also think I'll get in shape with their style of teaching. That is important as well given my plans to go to a Mysore studio in Goa, India this winter. Must be in shape, must be in shape...

Today was also get your legal shit together day. This relates to the dissolution of my RDP ("registered domestic partnership"). Not something I care to share, but I will tell you that I was following my therapist's advice.

Now, it's dinner time. Laura is cooking up some quinoa/amarinth/rice mix and her homemade chili (almost as good as mine!). There's a cabbage salad to go with, and maybe a small glass of Flower Power IPA. She's letting me do my thing. Sort of drift around the condo and through time without expectation. Cannot be more grateful.

So, I'm getting by with a little help from my friends...and teachers...building an Allison-appropriate, post-personal-apocolypse sangha...