reaching around to give myself a little pat on the back.

Does smugness lead to blogging? Absolutely. (As does a range of other emotions) Look back at some of our not-so-constant posts or for that matter, read random blogs. The blogging/facebook/twitter worlds are full of people sharing their self-satisfying experiences. I think there is nothing wrong with it and had such an experience that pulled me back into the blogging world (where, don’t worry Gardner Compost site-moderators, I will stay at least until my guest post is completed). Where to begin. The pictures and explanations of our recent travel are still coming. However, I am compelled to leap ahead to leaving Utah, before getting to what brought us there and what we saw along the way.

On Saturday I was in the SLC airport. Seated comfortably with an enormous diet coke and a good book, waiting to board flight 1732. I figure I better hit the restroom one last time (I had a window seat where l would only feel just justified taking one mid-flight crawl over my neighbors to relieve myself). On the way I noticed a tall, sculpted, tan man wearing a pony-tail and white capris (I swear it was this exact cut in white). As I passed, I noticed the Lululemon insignia on said capris and spent my entire bathroom break trying to figure out if they could possibly be men’s pants. I decided they probably were. Lululemon is a fitness brand that is “yoga-inspired for healthy living.” Although I am proof that they also make fantastic lounge pants.

After using the bathroom, I resumed the wait to board the plane. I love airports…and malls…and public parks. I have always enjoyed people watching. In college I wrote several journal entries of the life stories of people I had seen in line at WalMart--(small disclaimer—this may lead to stereotyping but it is not mean spirited and until this post, I generally kept these tales to myself). So as I wait and watch, I see an impossibly lithe woman walk by and envied the genetics that make one look like a lean pixie. There were numerous businessmen and a family playing a game on the floor, that I overheard say they were form China. At the ticketing counter, another tall sleek lady waited in flowy pants with hooded sweatshirt pulled over her head. She has a tiny backpack and an even smaller sleeping roll. Then as boarding begins, these three converge—white Capri man, lithe pixie lady, and the hooded girl. When I realize they know each other, I just cannot help myself from guessing their story.

I followed these 3 down the gang plank, or whatever the tunnel that spits you onto an airplane is called. I thought to myself, “What could they be doing here?” Despite the tightly coiled sleeping bag, I seriously doubted backpackers or hikers. I also eliminated Utahans. It just seemed improbable. And although they all sported expensive name brand items, I also doubted they converged in Utah for a shopping trip. As we got closer to the plane, the one girl slid her hood off revealing another horseshoe-esque Lululemon insignia. Ah ha! They had to be yogis (those who practice yoga). Perhaps, visiting some kind of spa or Canyon Ranch type place.

I sat down in 8A and watched Capri man get up and down several times, finally resolving to check the website at home to see if they were male or female pants. About ½ of the way through the flight, when the man next to me excused himself, I figured it was a good time to use the bathroom as well. The line was long. As I cued up, I looked down to see I was standing next to the pixie, scrolling through pictures on her camera and zooming in to check her face in each one (we all do that, right?). I head the man seated next to her ask if she was from Utah. My heart sped up just a little. If the line held, my yogi conclusion might be disproven or proven. Two children had just entered the bathrooms, a good sign that the line would not move. “No,” she replied “I was on a retreat with some friends.” Yes! And then, to sweeten the pot, he asks,”What kind of retreat?” “Yoga,” Pixie says, “I’m an instructor.” I stand a little taller as they continue to chat about yoga. As I walked about, I heard her say, “Oh its amazing, you become a student for life and the world teaches you.” (Could I make that up?)

The smugness set in. It could mean I pay attention to details and notice people—think The Mentalist. Or it could mean I am materialistic enough to notice the brand labels I can't afford—think Becky Bloomwood. I don’t care either way. It doesn’t matter to me that the Lululemon and life style clues were blatantly obvious. All that matters is I got it right.

Thanks, Rebecca, for introducing me to these fabulous pants.