There is a woman who comes to the Wednesday 60-minute yoga class, who always sets up by me. She is shorter than me by about a foot, but we both have similar hair cuts.
Today, she breezed by me in the hallway and I watched her setup next to me in the studio. Then, she made the brazen move of opening up the window.
I love it, but other people in the class get mad. Apparently they love extreme heat and hate fresh air.
After my typical behavior of avoiding the hot room until 10-minutes before class, I walked in and laid down. She looked at me, and in her thick Eastern European accent, said, “You look like me. Even your hair looks like me.”
I knew she was commenting on where on the planet my people are from, so I asked her where she was from.
“Polish/Austrian” she replied.
After searching some family records a few years ago, I can confidently say that I am a bunch of things, but there seems to be some Polish/Austrian influence on top of the just plain Polish influence.
So I told her this.
She asked me what my last name was, and I said, “Uzarski!”
The woman laughed right out loud.
Before I could ask her why she was laughing, class started and we had to shut our pie holes.
Hopefully I see her soon, because she has me on the edge of my Polish/Austrian seat.