Graceful? Eh, not so much.

Yesterday in yoga class I learned a valuable life lesson that was previously unknown to me ... Gracefulness, much like rhythm, is something that cannot be taught. You're either born with it or you're not.

Unfortunately I believe that I'm of the latter camp as that gene seems to have skipped over me and hopped onto Banner instead. I became acutely aware of this fact when Banner and I were forced into the front row of the yoga class because obviously everyone else was scared of it and had migrated to the back.

No big deal really, until you look up and see that the front of the classroom is covered with floor to ceiling mirrors. Great. Listen, I know I am not good at yoga, I know that I'm essentially cringing the whole class when I'm supposed to be breathing deeply, I certainly don't need to be reminded of that fact every time I look forward.

I'd also like to say that the mirrors are a distraction as the entire 60 minutes I kept fidgeting with my hair (stupid bangs), situating my top and thinking to myself, "Hmmm, maybe I do need to cave and go into Lulu Lemon."

So to all of you graceful yogis out there, this is what I have to say to you: You may look better in the poses, but I'm sweating more.

Mrs. Schmitt

It's official, I am now Mrs. Schmitt. Well, Mrs. Caroline Simpson Burleson Schmitt if you ask our glorious government. You see, they don't seem to understand that down here in the South, being called by your middle name is a pretty common occurrence. Therefore when I went to the social security office the first time and tried to drop Caroline, the woman behind the barred window told me that's not possible, if I wanted to have that on my social security card, I'd need to go to court and change my birth certificate. "But I wasn't born a Schmitt," I tried to tell her, "Don't matter," she said curtly as she motioned to the next irritated customer.

And guess what happened at the DMV today? Their system automatically put Caroline S. B. Schmitt on my licence and, "There's no way around it unless you change your birth certificate." And on top of that, the agitated gentleman in the lovely government issued, see-through polyester button down decided to go on a tangent about how if I was pulled over by a police officer and gave him the name Simpson Schmitt, he would arrest me right then and there for providing false information.

So, who's excited that we're paying their salaries AND that they get better benefits than we do?