My birthday is at the end of the month, meaning we are nearing the anniversary of a story Kyle and I have told and retold to our friends roughly 4,000 times. Right after Kyle and I got engaged in 1784, we took a trip up to Winnipeg, Manitoba for an Amanda Birthday Extravaganza. We did all of the things I like: ate at fun restaurants, saw a musical (Guys & Dolls at the Royal Manitoba Theatre Centre; great production), stayed in a fancy hotel, and sat around in bathrobes. We also did one thing I did not like, which was participate in a hot yoga class. One of Kyle’s friends had just opened a hot yoga studio and had asked him to support her while we were in the city.
Hot yoga is, as it sounds, yoga in a room with the temperature cranked up. As this was 1784 and the Internet was still in its infancy, we knew, but did not KNOW, about hot yoga until we got into the room. If we had known, we probably wouldn’t have worn sweats. Kyle also tells people that if he had known he wouldn’t have gone in the first place, but I don’t believe that for a second because the proper apparel for hot yoga is teeeeeny-tiny shorts and a sports bra and he didn’t seem too bothered by the 24 non-Amanda women wearing that ensemble.
The hot yoga studio looked a normal workout room but felt like a sauna; I want to say it was whatever 85 degrees translates to in Celsius. The attendees were 25 women and one Kyle. The instructor walked in, gave a quick Namaste, commented that if anyone needed a break to lie down on their back in corpse pose, and got to it.
Did I mention it was a Saturday morning? It was a Saturday morning. You know what a bunch of twenty-something women sweat out on a Saturday morning? Alcohol. Five minutes into the ninety-minute class, the room was filled with a visible and aromatic haze of undigested booze. I glanced over at Kyle, who was breathing through his mouth in an attempt to protect his nose from the scent. He gave me a wide-eyed “Help me” grimace.
Speaking of Kyle, Kyle was recovering from back surgery. You know what people who are recovering from back surgery can’t really do? Bend over. You know what the main activity is in hot yoga? Bending over. Somewhere in the first fifteen minutes, the instructor came over and pushed on Kyle’s back to assist him in touching his toes. He gave me the same “Help me” grimace.
“He can’t do that,” I whispered to the instructor. “He just had back surgery.”
“Then why is he here?” She whispered back.
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
Kyle gave it the ol’ college try for about five more minutes before spending the rest of the workout in corpse pose with his head nonchalantly turned towards the mirror so he could watch the teeeeeny-tiny shorts in action.
We left the studio soaked to the bone.
“Did you have a good time?” He asked me.
“Good enough,” I said, because I like yoga and Kyle and birthdays.
“Would you do it again?” He asked.
“Maybe; but probably not,” I said. “But I’d get a sauna any day of the week.”
“I’ll get you a sauna tomorrow,” Kyle said in the way that only a newly-engaged, madly in love, soaking in sweat future husband could.
Fast-forward to now. Every time we’ve told this story, I remind Kyle that tomorrow has never come for that sauna. That is, until last Thursday.
I got home from work and my thirteen-year-old was uncharacteristically jolly.
“Dad has something for you,” he said. “We’re giving you your birthday present early.”
“We are?” Nine, the worst secret-keeper in the family, said.
“Yep,” Kyle said. “Right now, in fact.”
The four of us went down to our basement workout room, which is a windowless room roughly the size of a closet with a treadmill, yoga mat, TV, and a bunch of other non-workout crap that we have deemed The Exercise Room. In the middle of the room was something that looked like a hybrid of a one-person tent and a spaceship.
“It’s a sauna!” Kyle said. “A portable sauna.”
“I am very excited!” I said very excitedly.
“I’m very excited, too!” Nine said, stripping down to his underwear. “I’m going to use it right now!”
“No, it’s for Mom,” Kyle said. “She gets to use it first.”
I used it first. You know those little kid rocket ships you find in malls next to the merry-go-round? Imagine that with a door and a dreamy amount of steam. Nine kept checking on me through the porthole window – “HOW IS IT, MOM; IS IT MY TURN YET?!” he’d shout – and I finally got out when it became clear that a few more minutes would have meant turning into a puddle of steam myself.
We’ve now had the sauna for a week, and everyone LOVES it.
“This is the second-best gift you’ve ever given me,” I told Kyle.
“What’s the first-best?” He asked.
“Well, the kids,” I said, as per Mom Rule.
“I think this is better than Thirteen,” Nine shouted through the porthole window.
“No, you don’t,” I shouted back, also per Mom Rule.
“Maybe you can do some yoga before you use it again,” Kyle said. “And maybe you can wear those little shorts.”
“Maybe,” I said. “But probably not.”
Some of you may remember the photo above because I posted it in 2022 for a different story (I did a search of my site and I’ve written at least three stories about saunas, which feels like two too many). It is a photo of two babies after a Canadian hot yoga class.
This week on North Dakota Today we talked about Larry Mendivil Jr. of Miracles for Vets, my Nice Person of the Week, as well as a school full of great kids raising money for animal rescue. (Valley News Live)
Hockey players in Fargo are Sticking it to Cancer. (Valley News Live)
Speaking of Fargo, Fargo’s Zack Armstrong, a MATBUS driver, saved a woman’s life after she overdosed on an opioid. (Fargo Forum; Found from “Oops Only Good News”)
Berthold’s Darrel Meyer had a Christmas ride his family will remember forever. (KFYR TV)
The Bismarck Bobcats delivered bags and bags of stuffies after the community came out big for the annual Teddy Bear Toss. (Facebook)
UND is offering the community a free photography course. (UND)
Composers and jingle writers of the world, your opportunity is now. (KFYR TV)
Fargo’s Christina Smith will be one of the hotties on the next season of The Bachelor. (Facebook)
Grand Forks’ Casey Opstad is one of the myriad of regional artists who contributed a series of 33 art panels to the new Altru Hospital. (Grand Forks Herald)
North Dakota Nice 
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