- hello Jess Hoffman
- Username: jess
- In response to: "What is the one thing you consistently spill on yourself?" Coffee
- jess's latest answers
- SuperBowl Halftime Yoga Stretch
Common Name: Upward Facing Orangutan
Posture Pointers: Begin in Mountain. Inhale, bring arms up to frame head, bend right arm over head, twirl hair. Exhale, sink hips towards floor, keeping spine as vertical as possible (squat position), crown of head falls toward back wall. Eyes focus on Drishti (Plasma hanging on wall). Mouth ajar. Weight stays in heels. Hips stay tucked under spine. Inhale, lengthen spine. Exhale, draw beer-belly up and back to locate belly button. Pick out fuzz with left hand. Continue hair twirl with right.
Common Name: Enraged Tree Pose
Posture Pointers: Shift weight onto left foot carefully balancing beer in left hand, hot buffalo wing in right. Bend right knee, bring it out to side, find a comfortable hairy place to rest sole of foot along inside of left leg. Inhale, bring arms up overhead. Exhale, hinge forward bringing arms to front and to hands claw like position. Inhale, crown of head falls toward back wall. Eyes focus on Drishti (Plasma hanging on wall). Flex face muscle into expression of rage.
- The Mysterious Masked Man-boy
My favorite Halloween costume is probably among the top 10 worn costumes of all time.
It was Halloween 1996. I was 18 and my friends were trying desperately to mend my recent broken heart at a Teen Night party at Caddy’s in downtown Cincinnati (greatest danceclub/bar/reception hall/illegal poker room EVER!).
Picture black and white soda shop-style tiled floor, mirrored walls, multi-colored disco balls and Quad City Dj's “C'mon N´ Ride The Train” (whoo whoo) blaring in the background.
We were body against slimy body, squished tight, and gyrating with no real dance skill. Some of the other bodies wore costumes, but my friends and I were too cool.
A line began to form for the required train and I grudgingly allowed myself to be pulled into it, still working my full pout over being dumped by a boy.
Just then, Batman swooped in and saved me from the train line. He whisked me on to the dance floor and we shared our own private dance. I don’t remember our conversation (did anyone really converse at that age?), but I do remember he coaxed one of the first smiles out of me in weeks.
I rejoined my friends after several hours with the masked man. They were full of predictions about how hideous my Batman would look without his mask.
I didn’t care. I just remember the sparkling lights, the laughs, the feeling of being appreciated and desired.
Caddy’s was the sort of place that shut down suddenly before you were ready for its magic to go away. That night was no exception. One minute I was smiling into the eyes of a masked man, then next we were being shuffled toward the door.
As our respecting friends dragged us apart, my Batman pulled off his mask and gave me a sheepish grin.
It was the BOY. The one who had broken my heart.
I still have that costume…although, it doesn’t fit the boy (now man) any longer. But every now and then I make him don the mask ,-)
- Moon Over My Life
Sorry, I NEVER want to be a kid again. But I do like some of the memories...
All it takes to recapture my youth is to step into the moonlit night.
I recall sitting crossed-legged in the cool Kentucky Bluegrass on sultry summer evenings. Crickets chirped and cicadas buzzed as I would gaze up into the night sky mesmerized by the full moon.
Some of my happiest childhood memories involved crisp autumn nights when the sweet scent of the fireplace smoke mingled with the cinnamon from my mother’s candles and wreaths. The nights were not yet cold, but perfect for bundling up in a blanket and sitting on the porch swing with hot apple cider, sharing my day with the full harvest moon.
At some point, I realized that the moon knew me as a young girl but would also know me at my oldest. It would see me through my greatest moments and shine bright even when I couldn’t.
My current favorite moon shines against the backdrop of moored sailboats gently bobbing with the incoming ocean waves. My husband and I walk hand in hand at the shore break, and my friend lights our path as we make our way through the night…and through life.
I search for the moon nightly. It makes me feel young and powerful. It reminds me of my past, it calms me in my present, and it gives me hope about my future.
- It's All About the Bride
The best part about a wedding is being the bride, of course.
Many think their wedding was the most amazing event in history. And why not? All your friends are there! Eating the food you choose. Drinking cocktails you provide them (which means they feel obligated to be nice to you). The music is your choice. The décor suits your taste. It’s perfect!
And the bride is the reining queen of the entire event. She is the superstar that everyone wants to touch. For one day (if she's lucky), the bride wears an ensemble tailored specifically to her. She has people waiting to fulfill her every demand: cars to chauffeur her, assistants to guide her, specialists to dab her shiny nose with powder.
It takes awhile for this idea to sink in for some brides. For instance, I remember telling my husband how GREAT our bartenders were because they always remembered to pour me the specific wine I wanted without me having to ask. I mean, how did they remember it was me?!? (yes, post bridezilla, I now realize the big, poofy, white dress tipped them off)
The bride sets the schedule and all her court surrounds her and takes hundreds of pictures of her. It’s like being Madonna for the day…but even better because you get to actually EAT the cake!
It’s nice. If not slightly annoying. And just when you start getting used to the idea, the night is over and you’re back to being the bridesmaid.
- Mind Plunging an Ice Pick in my Ear?
I do not operate with much sense period. To take one of my major, god-given, senses away, you better bring back-up. However, since returning…