Yoga, Peter's class, mellower than Andie's but after a period of exercise in negative integers (for the Toronto leg of our trip), it was more than enough of a work-out. Opened me up but good.

Nothing like shavasana (corpse pose, where you lie on your back, palms up, most often a reward for pretzeling oneself for over an hour) with Marcel on the next mat, our fingers touching as we slip gently into meditation. We're still breaking in the yoga-garb from Christmas. Target specials--the specialty shops with names of moon phases scared us (because of the prices, not the names).

Marcel started taking French this semester. He had an aversion to it for so long. What with complete strangers approaching him, discovering his painfully French name and total lack of French language comprehension, and declaring that he is a disgrace of a human being (true!), he was convinced he'd hate it. Thanks to the less oppressive guidance of his French 1 teacher, he's taken to it. By the end of the year, he, myself and the rubber tree plant will be able to communicate on a survival level. And if not, we have the option of spending 6 months in Montreal.