Your prayers worked, thank you!

After three frustrating phone calls with Nurse Biotch (God, I hate that woman!) I managed to get a call back from the doctor himself this afternoon. The cadaver injury with all the words in it was explained to me as a ding or dent in the cartiledge caused by trauma- a direct blow to the knee. (I think I know EXACTLY how I did that.) Ironically he seemed more concerned with the non-cadaverous injury, the chondromalacia. However, he told me that he thinks it can be treated without surgery (OMFG I almost died of relief) however, I have to take a break from karate and do physical therapy. And for those of you that know me, you know that I specifically did NOT ask if I had to take a break from Hapkido too. ;D Shhhhh. Don’t tell on me to my Hapkido Sensei! He already said to me on Monday “There is NO CHANCE IN HELL I’m letting you spar.” Geez. People are so bossy and mean. ;D It’s not like I can kick with either leg or hit or block with my left hand, but for the love of God, my right hand works! Let me spar! ;D I discovered today that I can’t kick or even go through the motions with my left leg because of the torque it puts on my right knee. Sigh and OUCH. Any semblance of a wheel kick hurts like a son of a bitch. Ditto for a roundhouse kick and side snap kick. Sigh. Forget about even lifting my right leg right now.

The Sensei who runs the dojo sat me down in his office yesterday (before the doctor said I had to take a break from karate) and said that he wanted me to take a break from Karate so that I could heal. (The Senseis really aren’t joking about banning me. I’ve already been banned from sparring by two of them.) I think they are going to give me my next belt without me having to take the test. I had just run through a mock test not 10 minutes before my knee collapsed and the Sensei running that class said that she had been watching me and there’s no way I would have done poorly on my test, much less not passed. And Sensei said that in the old days, they didn’t even do tests. You were just given your next belt when they felt you were ready. And no one sees any point in me taking a break and coming back and starting over.

Sensei is keeping the kata for the next semester a secret so that I don’t find out what it is and start practicing. He practically yelled at me today “NO! You go on vacation (we leave Saturday) and REST!!! You are NOT finding out what the next kata is!!!!” Sheesh. What, is national security at risk? ;D

Anyway, that is my good news. I already had a physical therapy evaluation scheduled for tomorrow night for my wrist. They said I can get my knee evaluated tomorrow night instead, but not both unfortunately. My wrist is almost healed, but not quite. It’s been six, long, annoying weeks since that started. Sigh. In the future, I will be much more careful when I block. This wrist injury was a tough lesson in hard blocking. I’m not sure what lesson my knees have taught me. Maybe that I’m just getting old. Or that I’m too old to over train anymore. Either way. When my own children won’t buy that I’m 22, it’s time to become an AARP member and start looking for a condo in Florida. Sigh. ;D

 

Fear and Loathing in Seattle…

The kids always ask to help me water the garden. Except they usually end up watering ants walking along the concrete cracks or a spider in a tree or worse, each other. They always end up muddy and wet and the flowers are still dry. So tonight I let them water knowing they were going to get soaked and require immediate showers, but I said nothing as they watered the windows and roof and each other. When son #2 opened the door to come inside he looks down and notices how wet he is. And he says out loud, but mostly to himself “Oh man, I am soaked. Even my underwear is wet. This is why Mom never lets us water the garden.” LOL.

So Steve’s only been home about five of the last twenty days and has been in Europe since Sunday and now that the kids are out of school and fighting enjoying their summer, it’s really starting to wear on me. I almost broke down and cried tonight after getting the kids in bed. I spent three hours in the car with them today with them alternating between fighting and pounding on each other and screaming and laughing. Like a bunch of manic lunatics. And I’ve got piles of laundry to do and the kitchen to be cleaned and the house to be picked up and all I want to do is go to bed. Sigh. I thought I’d sit down and write a post while I summoned up the energy to do what I need to do so I can go to bed.

I had originally intended to write this post about fear. Men don’t understand that as women, we live life where there is always the possibility that we become a victim. There is always a small undercurrent of fear in our lives. When we walk through a dark parking lot alone at night. Or when we find ourselves alone with someone who we suspect has the potential for violence or a million other circumstances where a man wouldn’t even know to feel fear. I despise feeling afraid or vulnerable when a man in the same situation wouldn’t.

I’ve mentioned before that I constantly dream about bad guys trying to get me in a variety of situations. And whatever weapon I use never works. In the last month or two I’ve finally started dreaming that I use Hapkido or Karate as my weapon and it WORKS! Of course I’ve woken myself up a few times because I punched or kicked the covers so hard while I was sleeping, they flew off. But it’s a good thing. And I don’t feel afraid anymore. I know I can defend myself. That’s not to say I’m going to go walking down in Pioneer Square alone at night or do something stupid, but I don’t feel that undercurrent of fear anymore. And I wondered if I was confronted with a scary situation now, how would I react? The answer came today.

We had just come home after being gone all afternoon. The kids were outside watering each other and I was in the kitchen starting dinner. Out of the corner of my eye, I thought I saw a shadow of someone move across the doorway of the dining room. In the past, this would have made my heart drop down to my knees while I desperately looked around for a knife or something to defend myself. Today, I took a deep breath, went straight to the dining room in a fighting stance with both fists up. I cautiously stepped through the doorway, ready to fight. It turned out that there was nothing there, but I SWEAR I saw the outline of a head peak around the doorway and then a figure move across. It was freaky. But, there was no fear. I was calm but cautious.

I can’t even begin to explain how liberating this was. Martial arts has completely transformed not only my outlook on life, but the way I live it. I love every aspect of both Karate and Hapkido, from it being a sport, to the discipline, tradition and honor, to the sparring. This has been a fantastic journey and I have to say that I never expected this journey of the mind as well as the body. And I like living life without fear.

 

Signs of NOT Aging and other random science…

Who ever said “A watched pot never boils”? Because I just watched a pot of water boil. Ok, I waited until I saw a few more little bubbles than when I first started watching, got bored and dumped in the pasta. But honestly, it was going to start boiling ANY second. It’s just my attention span prevented me from standing there slack-jawed, staring into the mesmerizing little bubbles on the sides of the pot. What the saying should really say is “No one, without the use of hallucinogenic agents, has the attention span to stand there and watch a pot of water boil.” There’s no scientific proof of this so-called watched pot never boiling. Anyway, that’s what I was thinking about when I was standing there staring into the pot of water that was going to boil any second, WHILE I watched it.

So, the fact that my body is falling apart is not an indicator of age. That’s not the problem. The first inkling that I had that something is amiss someone is trying to pull some kind of practical joke, was yesterday when I said to Steve that I wanted to join the weapons program at our dojo and learn weapons kata, defenses and sparring. I currently only know how to fight with one weapon that we use in Hapkido. Steve’s silent for a few seconds then says “Uh Honey? You know your body is not holding up under the eight hours a week you’re doing right now, right?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. He was trying to point out something about my wrist and both my knees. But I seriously have no idea what he’s talking about. I’ve been doing this all my life. Over training is my friend.

Then this morning, I was putting on my make-up and someone tried to create some alternate reality there, staring me right in the face. You know those long, wiry eyebrow hairs that old people get? Someone glued one to my eyebrow!!!!!!!!!!!!! I wrenched it out in horror and discovered that not only was it all wiry, BUT it was also a strange color. Like, not really a white-grey because it was strawberry blondish, but it was a totally different color than my other eyebrow hairs. WTF?!?!!!!!!? I WANT TO KNOW WHO DID THAT NOW! I checked for chin hairs, the biggest sign you’re old and I still have none. So I’m good, right? No chin hair, no aging, right? Ok, Right.

 

Whatever Wednesday

Although I have not received my scores yet, my judge told me that I passed my Hapkido belt test tonight. YIPEE! My Karate belt test is next week.

I did hurt my wrist tonight when my partner did a takedown that had me landing on my left side, but hopefully it will be better in the morning. On to Whatever Wednesday!!!!!!!!!!

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: What’s the most stressful test you have ever taken and did you pass or fail?

 

Soooooo, what are you doing this August?

I am totally walking around with that pick up line today. Our dojo is having an intra-school sparring tournament in August and teams will consist of two fighters from each belt rank. So I’m walking around the dojo today trying to recruit team members. Today I sidled up to the scariest dude in the dojo. I’ve heard stories about how he’s an absolute animal in the sparring ring. I’ve heard about how he’s had to be dragged from the ring by black belts after a match. He’s been a martial artisit for about 30 years. Dooooodeee. I want him on MY team. I tried my pick up line on him while the sensei who runs the dojo laughed at me. He told me he wasn’t going to fight in the tournament. So I must continue my search for two bad ass black belts. Steve wants me to ask this guy who is a black belt in Kung Fu and Karate. Steve says he’s sweet on me so that *I* should ask him. He’s old enough to be my father, but he always calls me his girlfriend while grinning at Steve. I think he’s daring Steve when he does that. Certainly taunting him. Steve never rises to the bait though. I guess it’s better that way. Kung Fu fighter is scary fast. He makes you blink, then hits you three or four times during that blink. I try not blinking, but it makes my eyes water. ;D

In other news, son #2’s Sensei kicked me in the side of the face today, HARD. It’s very hard to fight with one hand behind your back (my hurt wrist). I literally took a beating at the hands of the black belts today. Everyone thinks it’s hilarious that I’m still sparring but with one hand behind my back. Yeah, it’s really funny until THEY try it. Where’s your blocking hand NOW?!?! Uh huh! I thought so.

The wrist is still injured. It’s feeling somewhat better, except in the area of initial impact and the snuff box area.

We spent four days last weekend in Sequim, WA, and I have some hilarious pictures to show you. I’m out of time though today and I missed Whatever Wednesday again. We WILL be returning to your regularly scheduled programming shortly. I promise. My Hapkido belt test is Wednesday and Karate belt test the following Thursday.  Baseball ends a week from Saturday. The kids will be out of school the week after. Did I mention that Steve is traveling for most of June? Um yeah. So expect some more plumbing horrors to occur here shortly.

Hugs and Smooches to you all. I swear I’ll get my act together soon.

 

I know, I know, I KNOW!

Sorry, I just have not had a moment to myself. I swear I’ll get back to blogging. My wrist is still hurting so typing is really uncomfortable. Hand doctor says he thinks it’s just a very deep bone bruise, however, there is still some concern over the snuffbox area. I go back in two weeks and if I’m still sore, they will do an MRI. What that means is that I have to re-learn all my Hapkido material on the right side of my body ( a mirror image of what I’ve learned, two weeks before my belt test.) I’m overwhelmed at the number of comments I need to answer and I have 2,456 unread entries in bloglines. I swear I’m here. But with baseball, art and the end of the school year combined with belt tests in both karate and hapkido happening at the same time, blogging has to be sparse right now. Please don’t give up on me, I promise I’ll be back soon.

Let’s do a round of Whatever Wednesday on Thursday again. First Question: What was your favorite movie this year?

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

 

Whatever Wednesday: In a pinch, I went hockey…

I just want you all to know I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to blog or get to comments. I will, I promise! I was able to write this yesterday over the course of the whole day, a sentence at a time and I never did get to publish it! I didn’t even forget it was Wednesday today, I just haven’t been able to get to the computer to post!

I learned something about myself today. We did something in Karate called “The alley.” It’s supposed to mimic walking down a dark alley at night and being attacked by multiple people. They say that under stress you go with what you know. So guess what I did in the alley? I went with Hockey. I threw elbows and knees and completely forgot my Hapkido and Karate.

Hockey was the first contact sport I ever played. And so I’m perfectly comfortable, when caught in a fray, to throw elbows, knees and hip checks. No technique. Just a full-on brawl against the boards. Sigh. I threw only three punches and I think a kick or two. The rest was all elbows and knees. And truly? In a fight? I wouldn’t throw punches because of all the little bones you can break in your hands. But I forgot to kick.

You wouldn’t believe the adrenaline rush doing this. I didn’t think it was going to be any big deal, but oh how I was wrong. As I was beating myself up over my performance, I said to Sensei in bewilderment “I went HOCKEY! I didn’t even use Hapkido!” She said “Yes, but, those elbow techniques you threw were really powerful. You’d want to use them in a fight. However? Don’t let people get in that close next time. Kick them.” Sigh. I wanted them in that close. How am I going to go all Hockey on someone if they are far away? ;D

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: What contact sports have you played and which one’s your favorite?

 

Math

5 days a week of martial arts + 1 day a week with trainer + 1 day of rollerblading x too many joint injuries = prescription anti inflammatories + muscle relaxant = 1 wicked drug induced hangover

In the words of Ree, OH. MAH. HOLY. HELL. YA’LL! I hurt and I can’t shake the cobwebs.

 

Dear Honey,

Dear Honey,

Because you and kids ate all the cookies for breakfast this morning, I had nothing chocolately to munch on after lunch. So I went to get a piece of my very special, just for me, chocolate. It appears that my very special, just for me, chocolate is missing. Missing, of course, being a generous term for “being in your stomach.” There is nothing left but sub-par, crappy chocolate. Should this travesty occur again, you and I? ARE GOING TO THROW DOWN. I will lay in wait for you like a ninja. Then when you’re least expecting it? I will roundhouse kick you so hard, your mother will feel it. You will only be seconds away from death.

Your loving wife,

Helen

 

Tournament Results

You’ve all been on pins and needles waiting for the results, haven’t you? ;) I have to say that the tournament was a great experience for everyone. It wasn’t what I expected, but we’re all ready to do it again. Having been a swimmer my whole life, for some reason I expected the tournament to go like a swim meet, with everything going on in a linear, serial order. As it turned out, there were 9 rings and at one point three Teixeiras were in three of those rings AT THE SAME TIME. Because of the confusion and everything going on at once, while Steve and son #1 were watching son #2’s fight, they completely missed me and my fights. I was jumping up and down waving in my ring trying to get their attention, but alas, they weren’t even looking in my direction.

There are two types of things you can do at the tournament. You can show Kata, which is a series of fight moves, sort of like a routine or there is Kumite which is fighting (sparring). In my style of martial arts, Hapkido, we don’t do Kata, but Steve and the kids do. So Steve and son #1 entered the Kata divisions for their ages and belt ranks. Son #2 is still in the little kids’ classes where they don’t even learn a full Kata yet, so he didn’t feel comfortable entering Kata. Our intention was that son #2 was going to watch this time. However, Saturday morning he woke up and first insisted, then demanded that we let him enter the Kumite division. Son #2 has never sparred. The little kids do not spar until they are older. The only sparring son #2 has done was in our living room, with us, about 3 months ago. After much insistence and howling, we finally agreed to let him spar and I prayed it would go well for him. Son #1’s sensei had already taken me aside and told me that she did not think son #1 should spar because he is still not 100% from his broken hip. Two other senseis that know son #1 well also said we should not let him spar in this tournament. Son #1 was MOST unhappy about this, let me tell you. As it turned out, that was really good advice. The kids fighting in son #1’s division were much more experienced fighters and I have no doubt there’s a good chance he could have gotten hurt.

So anyway, Steve was first showing Kata. Here’s Steve showing his stuff:

He won a fourth place medal. YAY STEVE! I actually thought Steve’s Kata was going to score him even higher, because I thought his was cleaner and better than the other guys. He thinks he may have made a technical error when he bowed to the judges that lost him some points. That’s the thing about us being so new to all this. We don’t even know all the rules yet.

Son #1 was up next with his Kata. He did a beautiful job. Probably the best I’ve ever seen him do it. There were a ton of kids in his division so I was worried about him placing. However he earned himself a fourth place medal as well! YAY SON #1!!!

Halfway through his Kata, I noticed that Steve was beating people up over there in ring #7 (all the way on the other side of the gym) and son #2 was getting ready to fight in the ring next to son #1. I was running back and forth between the three rings. Let’s say it together: THREE RING NIGHTMARE!

I did manage to catch a few shots of Steve’s first fight before I had to run back. He kicked ass and took names (look at the look on his face):

We had planned on video taping the fights and posting them for your perusal, however we have a semi-new video camera and I could not figure out how to get it to work and I couldn’t ask Steve because he was…well, busy. Steve lost his next fight. However, everyone who saw the fight, said Steve won the match. I had to watch bits and pieces of his second match from across the gym. I didn’t get to see most of the fight. We’re thinking there was some kind of conspiracy going on. That’s my theory anyway. We think there might have been a second kicker on the grassy knoll. Anyway, Steve did not place in sparring.

With Steve just finishing up and son #2 starting his division *I* got called for my fight. GAH! This was totally nerve wracking. There was no way I was leaving son #2 to fight in his first-ever sparring match alone. I found a mom I knew to keep an eye on him while I ran to other side of the gym and checked in. I spent the next 20 minutes running back and forth between my ring and son #2’s ring. I was truly terrified for him. There were a ton of kids in his division (7 and 8 year olds) and son #2 just turned 7. Although he is huge for his age, there were some ginormous kids about to turn 9 that must have outweighed him by 50 pounds. And many of these kids looked like they had done a good amount of sparring. It was enough to make me weak in the knees. I prayed he wouldn’t get hurt. He’s a really tough kid, but yikes! In the end, he did fantastic. It still brings tears to my eyes. Son #2 ended up winning a sixth place medal. Gutsy kid, eh? He’s a natural born fighter like his father.

So then it was my turn. Do you know what my biggest fear going into this tournament was? That I would get disqualified for power (hitting too hard.) Since most of my experience is sparring with men, I tend to hit a lot harder than most other women. Also under pressure, I hit hard. Sigh. So I spent most of the several days beforehand worrying about getting disqualified. Hapkido sparring has different rules. I didn’t even know all the rules for this style of fighting. I listened in on the rules in son #2’s ring. However, I later learned that each ring’s judge can amend or alter the rules. My ring judge never went over the rules. Turns out in his ring, the head and face aren’t targets. Which is unfortunate, because I really love to go head hunting. So I actually ended up losing one of my fights because after repeatedly getting called for power, he started deducting points. I wasn’t being defiant. The woman I was sparring against had been given some very poor advice before the match. They told her to charge. So every time the judge yelled go, she charged at me like a bull, outweighing me by probably 100 pounds yelling like a lunatic. And every single time, I first put a foot in her belly, then a right and a left to her head. Every time. She just kept charging me. Charging is extremely dangerous. If you’re fighting someone with poor control, you could be very seriously injured. And the judge was getting angrier and angrier at me for hitting her in the head but she was shorter than me and bent over charging so I really had no other targets. It was extremely frustrating to lose this match. I mean losing a fight because you hit too hard? Sigh. After the match she said “We could fight 999 more times and I’d never beat you again. That was a total fluke.” Sigh. My other fight was over in less than 2 minutes. I beat her 3-0. She never even got to touch me. In fact when the judge said go and she put both fists turned towards her body and in front of her face, I actually felt sorry for her. I almost said “Honey, you don’t want to fight me like that. I’m gonna knock one of those fists into your own face.” But I didn’t. I just kicked her until I won. And so? I WON A HUGE THIRD PLACE TROPHY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Unfortunately there are no photos since the whole family missed my fights. I don’t even have a decent picture of me with the trophy because Steve gave son #1 the camera and well….he’s not a good photographer.

Steve SAYS he has video of me getting my trophy, but it turns out we do not have a cable we need to download it to the computer. When/if he gets the cable, I’ll post it. If you’re wondering about the black gi (uniform) in a sea of white uniforms, it’s because 90% of the people at this tournament were Karate people who wear white gis. We wear black in Hapkido. It’s not a good vs. evil thing. ;D

So there it is, folks, our first karate tournament.

 

 

 

Fight, fight, fight!

Ok, folks! This is it! This weekend Steve and I are fighting in a karate tournament! I’m nervous because since we were sick, neither of us has sparred in a month! I don’t know about Steve, but I feel rusty! Last night we sparred in the living room a little. Well, no, let me rephrase that. Steve kicked me in the face. Then he kicked me in the ribs. Then he backfisted me in the head. He’s really too good for me to spar with now. My only recourse was accidentally kicking him in the jumblies a few times. He can hold his own with the best fighters in our dojo and I’m pretty sure he has eight fists. And I think he hit me with all of them last night. I stood there and was his crash test dummy while he practiced some tornado kicks. That’s when he kicked me in the face. Does he rush over and check on me? No! He laughed! Hurummppphhh.

In case you’re wondering what that looked like:

Yeah, that’s me staggering around. No. Kidding. I was still standing. But it made my eyes water. And then I got mad. And then? Fists of fury! I don’t care how many times I get hit, I will PUNISH him for that! lol!

 So wish us luck this weekend. We’re all Kung Fu fighting!

 

I’m a fighter not a lover…

Uh, ya’ll? You should see my face today. I’ve got dark shadows under each eye, the bridge of my nose hurts and my eyes are all swollen. Apparently in sparring class, I WAS NOT PROTECTING MY HEAD! Son #1 was cleared to return to contact sports on Friday so he attended the sparring class. He’s responsible for the left eye. As soon as he started sparring, he was throwing full force punches and kicks and charging in at me. I know from last week, when I hit a twelve year old black belt squarely in the face when he charged me, that this is what I do under pressure. What happens is that once you get hit pretty hard and your heart rate and adrenaline shoot up, you lose the ability to think and can only react. Good fighters want you in that position. Inexperienced fighters do it but without knowing they’re doing it. I was terrified that I was going to seriously hurt my own child, so I was not hitting back. I was losing my cool with him because he was reckless and throwing wild haymakers. Ergo, I was taking a beating, while not making contact with him. By the third round sparring with him, I’d had it. So every time he came charging in, I put him on the ground. I figured that was probably the safest place for him. Plus, it made me laugh when he was all sprawled out on the ground and I hadn’t even hit him. Martial arts are cool. lol.

You’ll be happy to know that Steve did not cause any of the damage to my face yesterday. We were both pretty tired by the time we got to spar each other. It was hard to even lift our arms. My feet felt like they were glued to the ground. Whew. People see us walking out of sparring class and say “Wow, all of you come here? Things must get pretty interesting in your house!” To which I always reply “Ever seen the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith? It’s like that.”

I’m a fighter, not a lover anyway. ;D

 

The dentist, the gyno and the dojo…

Today is going to be the BESTEST EVER. I get to go to the dentist! Now before you go feeling all sorry for me, you might as well know, I’m a freak of nature. Never had a cavity. Neither has Steve. We have good teeth. Nevertheless, STILL. HATE. THE. DENTIST! We used to have one in California that Steve and I called Captain Hook. She was getting up there in age and when she used the hook thingie she’d slip and she’d cut us. Totally cut us, man. Going to try a new dentist today. My palms are already all sweaty and I’m practicing curling my toes while they poke at me and wedge my jaw open. Mmmm. Fun. Almost as fun as the gyno. Where the same thing happens with sharp objects, sweaty palms and curled toes but….Moving on……

So guess what? GUESS. WHAT?!?! *I* received my next belt in Hapkido last night! WOOO HOOO! I am now no longer the lowest belt rank! I was so giddy I had trouble falling asleep last night. I do have one complaint though. Whenever the senseis in the dojo decide they’ve got a problem area or ate too much over the holidays, somehow I end up paying. Last night Sensei says “We’re going to do crunches tonight because I need some ab work.” I couldn’t resist saying “So this is like when Sensei Yoda comes into sparring class and announces he has a muffin top and needs to spar?” Sensei laughed and said “Exactly.” That was the day Yoda broke Steve’s ribs, all because he ate too much over Christmas. In case you were wondering, *I* did not need the crunches as I’ve done my 500 for this week. At least it wasn’t push up night. I *HATE* push up night when Sensei decides his arms are flabby. No wait, “I’m going skiing” nights are way worse. I *HATE* it when he’s going skiing and says he needs to get his ski muscles in shape. Sigh.

Anyway, can you believe the train wreck that is Britney Spears?!?! Hasn’t slept since Saturday…Ok, I’ve gotta run. The dentist is waiting with his implements of pain….

 

Now THAT is Karma, Biotch!

Steve tried to kick me in the head. Then he had to hop around on one foot because I grabbed his foot and trapped it against my shoulder and ran around with it. Now THAT is Karma, Biotch! ;D

 

Then we can talk about Karma, Biotch.

OH. MY. GOD! I received my worst sparring injury to date. I discovered over the last few weeks that my roundhouse knee to the stomach is one of my strongest techniques. So I was sparring with Steve today and went in for a hard roundhouse knee but when I went to lower my knee, it hurt really bad. Somewhere in my brain something whispered “Holy Shit, that felt like I connected with a brick wall.” Then I remembered the argument in the sporting good store yesterday when I made Steve buy a cup for sparring. That’s when I realized my knee had solidly connected with his cup. OMFG. I have a HUGE lump on my knee and it started turning purple almost immediately. Wearing pants hurts and bending my knee. OMFG. You don’t even know. And Steve? He just keeps grinning and saying “Karma, baby!” PULLLEEEZZZZ. What Karma?!? *I* am the one who made him buy the cup when he didn’t want to wear it. Karma, my ass. I giveth the cup, I can taketh it away. Then we can talk about Karma, Biotch.

We also had another argument yesterday. I wanted Steve to go have a chest x-ray from the beating he took from the Yoda of Karate. I was concerned that if he sparred again and got hit in the ribs and it was broken, he would puncture a lung. He didn’t want to go. However I threatened to tell everyone in the dojo if he didn’t go so he finally agreed to go. He came home all smug and said the doctor said his ribs weren’t broken. However, five minutes after he got home the doctor called with “Ooops. My bad. There is a cracked one. But it’s in the back, so you can spar.” *I* said he should wear a rib guard today, but he claimed he wouldn’t get hit there again. Five blows to that area later, he’s breathing like I’ve got his nuts in a vice. He groans every time he moves. He’s trying to take a bottle of wine right now in the hopes of dulling the pain. Maybe THAT is Karma, Biotch! ;D

 

Other signs and symptoms I’ve been in Louisiana….

It’s not just the ya’ll that’s coming out my mouth. I haven’t pronounced the “r” at the end of a word in over a week (like buttah and suppah.) Do you know I heard myself saying “Where you at?” mostly because it was easier. I also heard myself referring to getting out of the car as “gettin’ down.” The expression “fussin’ at (someone)” has escaped my lips. So help me God, if I hear “I’m fixin’ to” come out of my mouth, I’m cutting out my tongue.

I think I’ve mentioned before that one of my aunts is only a few years older than me so we’ve grown up more like cousins. Ok, the truth is she’s never grown up. We had to go to the store and I put her in the back with the kids which was a HUGE mistake. OMFG. She starts cutting up with my boys, tickling, pinching, punching and screaming. Grandma’s in the front seat and I yell “GRANDMA! STOP THEM! REACH BACK THERE AND START CRACKING SKULLS!” above the noise in the back and what does Grandma do? She starts tickling people and more screaming ensues.

So I’m yelling at everyone to shut the hell up because I’m driving, and the 40-something year old child in the back is more trouble than all the other ones put together. We get to store and they are still screaming and cutting up and I jump out the car, fling open the back door and deliver a pinch to Auntie Cutsupalot that will get her attention. “OWWWWWWWWWWWW!” she yells loud enough to be heard four blocks away “OW! OW! OW! OW! OW! SHE’S PINCHING ME!” to no one in particular. Or perhaps Grandma. I’m not sure. Anyway, the pinch got her attention. ‘Cept she got out the car and wanted to fight. Now Auntie’s bigger than me and ordinarily wouldn’t hesitate to try to kick my ass. ‘Cept she also knows I’ve been taking Hapkido. She goes to tweak my nipple (oh she’ll do it and it fricken’ hurts!) and before I realized what I was doing, my martial arts training had kicked in and my hand was halfway to her head. Lucky for Auntie she stepped back at the last second and so my hand did not connect with a ferocious open handed slap (mmm hmmm they teach that in hapkido.) She’d already taken a stun manuever earlier. She didn’t want another piece of me. Going to the grocery store with the overgrown child, kids and grandma in one of the motorized carts was like herding cats. You don’t even know. Trying to get them all pointed in the same direction and moving was impossible. Two and a half hours later we exited the store. OMFG.

Growing up Auntie Cutsupalot and one of my uncles, who we called Uncle Fart (Lawd help me!) were the children who never grow up. Uncle Fart is as bad as Auntie Cutsupalot when it comes to acting like a overgrown child. But as I watched my children play with them, it brought back fond memories of my childhood and I remembered why I adored these two in particular so much. Uncle Fart was playing a game with son #2, who was winning, and Uncle Fart knocked the board over on purpose so he wouldn’t lose and tried to pretend it was an accident. I caught it on video. Cheating because a seven year old was winning and he got CAUGHT. Finally some justice in the world.

Auntie Cutsupalot told my children about the time I put vaseline all over her toilet seat and wet and froze all her undergarments. Ya’ll, sitting on a greased toilet seat is NASTY. My cousin and I got folded up in the sofabed while sleeping for our trouble. Spending the night at Auntie Cutsupalot’s house was always an all-nighter filled with pratical jokes. It took lots of planning.

By Saturday, my smart ass cousin finally showed up. She thinks a long drive from Houston is, like, an excuse for showing up days later.

Stay tuned for the adventures of four cooks in the kitchen save the etouffe….

 

Water buffalo-2, Teixeira family-0

Steve and I always spend the few days after sparring class trying to assess what injuries were sustained and to what degree. When your adrenaline is juiced way up you don’t notice the blows. Last week I rolled out of bed and moaned “Oooooh I feel like I was in a fight.” He helpfully said “You were. Several, as a matter of fact.”

He woke up this morning complaining of a butt injury. I have no idea how one would sustain a butt injury, but I know I didn’t kick it. He picked me up in a big bear hug earlier and I started screaming “EIIIYAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! PUT ME DOWN! THINGS ARE HURT!” Apparently I sustained several blows to rib cage, but I can’t remember when. The only injury I remember getting yesterday was jamming my finger. Course, I was kneeing the dude in the nuts as I sustained such injury, but I’d call it even. I totally almost broke a nail. ;D Hey wait, he was kicking me in the ribs as I kneed him in the groin. THAT’S what happened. He said “Well……that’s an effective way to counter that kick.” Ooops. My bad. I just reacted. They don’t call Hapkido Korean street fighting for nuthin’! These Karate people need to learn to fight dirty. To hell with all that honor and dignity stuff. ;D

During point sparring, my opponent was a 16 year old kid who is 6′1″. (Reminder: I am 5′4.5″!) He had all the cards- reach, youth, speed and three years of boxing. I altered the style that usually works for me and it cost me the match. I find that stepping in close and throwing as many punches as fast as I can, usually knocks my opponent off balance and works for me, but I also get hit doing it. Which doesn’t bother me except that in point sparring, those hits score. Sigh. I was trying to stay out of his reach. Which is practically across the room. You’ll be happy to know that he did receive multiple blows to the head for his trouble though. Steve got his ass kicked (hey maybe that’s what happened!) by a guy who is new (white belt) to karate but a fricken’ black belt in a couple of other martial arts. I heard a black belt yelling last week when he was sparring with him “HEY! This guy isn’t a white belt!”

There’s a Human Weapon episode where they are training in a rice field and wrestling a water buffalo and the guy demonstrating nearly gets drowned by the water buffalo (to see a clip of that go here and click on where the buffalo rumble on the right side.) And Bill leans close to the camera and says “That didn’t work! That’s Water Buffalo-1, Fillipino guy-0 .” Yesterday was Water Buffalo-2, Teixeira Family-0.

 

Hapkido Chic…

Years ago I stopped running to the store in food stained t-shirts and sweats with baby food in my hair and spit up on my shoulder. Because every single time I did, not only did I run into to someone I knew, it was always either an ex-boyfriend or some guy I’d had a terrible crush on for years. NEVER failed. I can’t remember the last time I went out in public and thought “Who am I gonna see?” I’m older. Wiser. I don’t do that anymore.

So tonight, after Hapkido I had to run to the store and my precise thought was “So what? Who am I going to see?” Oy. You know where I’m going with this, right? I never go anywhere in my karate uniform except the dojo because I feel like a doofus. But tonight? It’s nine p.m. people! Everyone I know is already sleeping! And who’s going to notice my uniform pants that are supposed to be short but look like floods if you thought they were regular pants? And the fact that I am wearing athletic socks and tennis shoes and look like my 90 year old grandmother? PSHAW! I’m not going to see anyone.

So imagine my horror when I’m bent over looking at something on the bottom shelf at the store and a kid’s voice behind me says “Hi Mrs. Teixeira!” Frick. Just Frick. Shouldn’t she be in bed?!?! I don’t even turn around because the kid is going to be too young to drive which means they are accompanied by a parent. Sigh. I stand up and turn around. It’s a girl from son #1’s grade. And she’s with her dad. Whom I’ve never met. Couldn’t have possibly come with Mom tonight, eh? “Hiiiiii…..” Yes I’m the dork in the floods and my tennies, nice to meet you. To my relief he’s looking at my face and not at my clothing (I was really thinking the big puffy coat would hide all my problems.) But that’s only because he’s probably already spotted my floods and had to hide the look of horror. Oh the humanity!

Then I go to get in line and Oh. MY. GOD! Another dad! What did I do to deserve this universe?!?! I hide behind a display until he paid and left. Actually it wasn’t a display. It was a sign on a post. It didn’t hide me. Sigh.

I call Steve on the way home and tell him to break out the camera. Because I’m at least going to get a blog entry out of my humiliation.

Smokin’ hot, aren’t I?!

 

My scary day

Years ago, on Oprah, I saw this guy who wrote a book called “The Gift of Fear.” On the show he talked about how listening to that little voice inside your head that says “something is wrong” will save your life. I try to pay attention to that vague unease, because when I was 13, it saved me from being kidnapped by a stranger. Twice.

Today I was driving home and at the last minute, decided not to take my usual route home so that I could take a more scenic drive. I made this decision at the last possible second, so I was in the wrong lane and had to quickly and awkwardly change lanes from the turn lane. When I glanced in the rear-view mirror, the car behind me did the same thing which caught my attention. As I’m driving along, I glanced in the mirror a few times and thought that car behind me was driving oddly. Almost like a cop does when they’re following you, but somehow not. So then I realized that the thought that this guy behind me was following me had crept into my subconscious.

I felt silly for even thinking it, but something about the way he drove made me think this. So I started slowing down then speeding up, adjusting my speed significantly and still the way he drove told me he was following me. At the road I take to go home, I turned right, turning on my blinker well before the street. As soon as my blinker went on, so did his. My heart started to beat faster, but I still wasn’t convinced that he was following me. I looked on my navigation system map to see if there was an upcoming area that I could take four rights and kinda go “around the block.” I didn’t see one, but I saw a roundabout. I took the roundabout all the way around until I was going back the way I came. I slowed down to almost a stop in the roundabout so that I could get his license plate number in case he was following me. My heart skipped a beat when he followed me all the way around and was also heading back the way we came. Confirmed bad guy behind me. I started to scroll through my navigation system trying to find the nearest police station. I *know* where it is, and yet I couldn’t remember at that moment. Funny how stress makes your mind go totally blank. Like when my kids are seriously hurt and I can’t remember the doctor’s phone number.

I got to the end of the road and turned left, still going back the way I came, trying to send the message that I knew he was back there. He got it. He pulled over and sat there, so like a bat out of hell, I floored it. I suspected he was trying to wait until I decided to come back that way. I didn’t go back that way. When I got home, I called the police. They told me to keep an eye out for the car and they would run the plates and see if it raised any red flags.

All the times in my life that I have been in truly dangerous situations were because I had ignored that little voice inside my head that said “Danger!” and said to myself “You’re being silly.” The author of that book emphasized over and over to never, ever ignore that little voice.

If you’re wondering why I didn’t call 911 while in the car, it was because years ago, a guy cut me off on the freeway and then I passed him and gave him a dirty look. Which enraged him and he started chasing me. Son #1 was a baby and in the back seat and I was FLYING down the freeway, weaving in and out of traffic, with this guy chasing me, terrified that he was going to shoot me. The 911 dispatcher kept telling me to pull over. Which I didn’t want to do in case he had a gun. I wasn’t scared for myself as much as for son #1. Quite honestly, I was terrified that if I called 911 today, the dispatcher was going to tell me to pull over. And you know what? No way in fricken’ hell I was pulling over. Sorry 911. Take a flying leap. I didn’t make it to my age by stopping and ASKING trouble to come get me.

So now I wonder where this guy picked me up. Was he following me around the store I had been in? I had only been in the car less than five minutes when I first noticed him. I’m hoping to never see that guy or his vehicle again. It was definitely a scary day. Son #1 asked me when he got home what would I be worried about it for? That I could just Hapkido him. I reminded son #1 that you always assume the other guy is a black belt. I don’t want to find out whether or not he’s a black belt.

 

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting Part 2

Yesterday Steve and I finally got to go to a sparring class together. Between us and the kids, we know almost every sensei in the dojo, but yesterday we encountered a sensei we’d never met. Although Steve and I have been doing this for the same amount of time, he is a higher belt rank than I am. This is the only time this will happen, as Hapkido belt tests are every three months and Karate belt tests are every four. It just so happens that his first belt test fell before mine.

Wedded Bliss, but with Headgear
So the instructor sees that we are the lowest belt ranks in the room (in addition to another student from my Hapkido class who is the same belt rank as I am.) White and yellow belts are the most dangerous students in the dojo. We do not have the control yet to not hurt people and just enough knowledge to be dangerous. So Sensei tells everyone to pair up and Steve and I paired up, anxious to finally be able to go at it on a PADDED floor. As soon as he sees Steve’s size and our belts he walks over and says “I don’t want you two sparring until I can make sure you’re safe, lemme look at all the white and yellow belts one at a time.” When Steve and I looked at each other, he caught the look and said “Oh wait. Do you two know each other?” Steve said “We’re married.” And I said “And we do this in our living room.” Sensei looked shocked as hell, but a slow smile spread across his face and he grinned and said “Well then, by all means, have at it.” He didn’t have to say that twice!

It Tolls for Thee
I have gotten a chance to spar already in Hapkido a few times, but this was Steve’s first time sparring. I’ve repeatedly told him “I can’t wait for the first time you go to sparring class. Then some black belt is going to kick your ass instead of you kicking my ass all over the place.” Steve not only has arms twice as long as mine, even if I throw a kick, his arms are still long enough to hit me while I’m kicking him. Sigh. It’s very hard to spar with him. He’s got boxing experience too and our sparring sessions are usually me just getting my bell rung. True to form, Steve rung my bell two minutes into our sparring session. Oy.

Body Blow, Body Blow, Body Blow…
After I sparred with Steve, I sparred with the guy from my Hapkido class. He’s a high school aged kid also with boxing experience. He knew Steve and I went at it, so he and I went at it full force too. You’re supposed to just touch the other person and pull back, but he and I were trading near full force punches and kicks. I whispered that we might get in trouble doing it, but we grinned and kept doing it. I do have to say, that I did tweak my shoulder blocking a particularly hard round house, but I had fun.

Bring it
After that, we traded partners about every three minutes and so made the rounds around the room. Probably at least half the class were black belts. One thing you quickly learn in Martial Arts is to respect the belt. If you’re smart, you also learn that sometimes even people with the lowest belt rank have experience in either another martial art or boxing or something else. The key is to never underestimate your opponent. What I’ve learned so far is that people see that I’m a woman, I’m the lowest belt rank, and I’m in my late thirties (that’s painful to say). And they immediately make the assumption that I’m afraid to fight or trade punches. I find that if I take advantage of that and aggressively step in close even though I’m being hit, I surprise them and they start backing up. The only people I’ve not been able to back up is black belt men about my age, although usually older.

So, You Like it When I Beat You Up? 
One of the older male black belts I was paired with yesterday began with just light touch punches. Then he wanted to show me something and had the fastest hands I’ve ever seen. He feigned six punches to my head and face before I even lifted my hands to block. I said “HOLY COW!” and then blinked a few times, because I had literally blinked and received 5 punches in that amount of time. I said “Do that again.” He looked at me incredulously. “WHAT?! You want me to do that again?” “Yes please!” I said. Still standing there in disbelief he said “WHY?!?!” I said “See that big guy over there? That’s my husband. Have you sparred with him yet?” He says “Oh, yeah. That guy. He’s really fast.” I said “Exactly and he does what you just did to me, except harder, just to show me he can. I need practice and I need to figure out how to defend that.” “AAAAAAAAAAAhhhhh. Ok. Now I get it.” And he proceeded to fricken Bruce Lee me with a hundred fricken punches. It’s better not to even blink with that guy. I was getting better, faster and starting to see openings. And by the end of that session, I was trading respectable strength punches with a bad ass.

The Enthusiastic Blue Belt and His Garage Sale
My most comedic sparring session was with a kid not much older than son #1. He was several belt ranks higher than I am, but I could quickly see he was new to this. Also I couldn’t bring myself to actually make contact with him, because all I could think of was that I wouldn’t want an adult punching on MY son. I said to him “If you don’t retract your kicks I’m going to grab your leg.” And again he kicked without retracting so I grabbed his leg and held on to let him know I could. Undettered, while I’m standing there hanging onto his leg, he’s punching me all over the torso and head and saying “Yeah, but I’m still hitting you!” I sighed and said “Well if we’re fighting and I’m going to grab your leg, I’m going to put you on the ground. Do you know how to fall safely if I do that?” He nods. “Ok, if you kick me again without retracting, I’m going to leg sweep you.” The kid grins. He was really cute and enthusiastic. So, he kicks me again and I grabbed his leg again, but I’m still reluctant to leg sweep him hard and let him go down like he’s supposed to, so I hang on to him during the leg sweep and lower him to the ground. Again, if it were my son, I wouldn’t want an adult to just lay him out. So I’m leaned over him from lowering him down. He still fell, but only from about a foot (he weighed almost as much as me, so I couldn’t PUT him down.) I look down and his belt has come untied, his uniform open and untied, his helmet had come off and one glove. It looked like a garage sale with his equipment all over the place. And still he’s hitting me and grinning. “Look!” he says “I’m still hitting you!” I sighed again. Oy. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that if I leg swept him for real, I wouldn’t have been leaning over him. By the time he redressed and got himself together again, our session was over. I’m still grinning over this kid. SO cute, but SO much to learn.

Cut Me, Mick, Make Me Bleed
When class ended I was taking off my equipment and I called over to Steve without looking up ”So did you finally get your day of reckoning?” His silence caused me to look up and then he said “Uh, yeah. Do you see my lip? I got side-kicked in the face by a black belt. I also got punched in the nose and the eye.” He also informed me that he back fisted son #2’s black belted sensei in the face, and traded a few other injuries. Sigh. Better them than me. “It was fear. They see how big you are and how long your arms are and it’s a perfectly natural response.”   

My Testosterone Imbalance
After sparring class, I was talking to Steve in the lobby and I said “It was nice to spar with people my own size today. However I’ve decided that I like sparring with men better than women. The pace of the sparring is much slower with women and most of them just keep backing up and disengaging. Men don’t usually do that. They get in there and fight.” A mom sitting nearby overheard me and said “Oh my God. Did you just say that you LIKE sparring and you’d RATHER spar with men?” I grinned and said “Yeah, it was more fun and faster paced.” She shook her head “FUN?!? Oh my God.”

Yeah. Oh. My. God. It was fun.

Part 1 of Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

 

Visiting Limitations

We have a friend who every year around his birthday, turns into a recluse and disappears into the wilderness for days on end. Once we asked him what he was doing out there and he replied “Visiting my limitations.” It’s an expression Steve and I have used ever since. I’m a limitation visitin’ kinda girl. I don’t know any other way. If I go to the gym, I don’t know how to have a light workout. I only know how to visit my limitations. Visiting your limitations is good for you. It builds character. It forces you to stretch. To grow as a human being. I now find that I seek out my limitations in many areas of life.

I’m going to meet Steve in Spain next week and for one week, we will be carefree and childless. We’re taking our first EVER vacation without the kids. Steve has to be there for two weeks, but I’m going during the middle of his trip so I’m flying there and back by myself. The thought alone of doing this is already visiting my limitations. Why you ask? If you go here (the last entry in the series) and scroll down to the bottom of that entry you will find the links to the entire hellish nightmare that was the last and only time I’ve ever been to Europe. Starting with London 1999. With a two year old. I shudder at the thought of going back.

So in preparation for my trip, I thought I’d read Harry Potter in spanish to brush up on my vocabulary. The friend that lent it to me told me I should have the English version on hand when I read it in case I need help. Psssshhhhawww. Me? Help? I don’t need no stinkin’ help. So I took the book with me to read while the boys are in Karate, with no dictionary, no english version. And? Oh. My. God. Hello? Nightmare? It’s me, Helen. Apparently I lack key vocabulary words in the world of wizards and magic. I sat there for an entire chapter not knowing exactly what a lechuza was. I knew it was nocturnal. I knew it flew. But did I know precisely what kind of flying nocturnal animal this was? Oh no I did not. See? Visiting my limitations again. And in case you were wondering, a lechuza is a freakin’ owl. So if anyone over there in Spain wants to chat with me about spells and owls, it is ON.

I find martial arts a way of visiting my limitations too. It doesn’t come as naturally to me as it does to Steve and son #1. If the move is intuitive, I can do it. At the beginning level though, they teach you things that aren’t intuitive because they are setting you up for an attack later. But right now they’re teaching me how to escape rather that fight. And I’m constantly going “But? But? I’ve got my back turned/ I’m leavng myself open/ he could totally hit me like this!” And every time the instructor sighs and says “Are you sure you haven’t fought before? Here’s the other, advanced part of it that you’re not supposed to learn yet.” To which I always go “Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhh okay.” If I could stop thinking and just shut up and do what I’m told, it might be easier for me to learn this. Who wants to escape, anyway? I want to FIGHT!

So Dear Internet, I challenge you today to visit your limitations. What did you do today to visit them?

 

I am a weirdo magnet

I’ve resigned myself to the fact that no matter what I do, I am a weirdo magnet. Doesn’t matter where I go, they find me. I seem to be a pervert magnet too. Doesn’t matter the sex, male or female, they find me too. If you’re weird or a pervert, I have no doubt, you’ll find me. (That was three comma splices in a row, but I’m on a rant here. So bite me. No no, not you, pervert! The grammer guy.)

Anyway, this month is our 14 year anniversary. We decided this year to do something special that we’ve never done before. We decided not to give each other gifts, and instead we went away to a spa for the weekend. Yeah. We did that. Never done it before, but I can tell ya, we’re doing it again. We left the kids OVERNIGHT with a babysitter. Yeah. Did that. Doing that again also.

So my sweet, darling husband made ALL of the arrangements. That’s right, by himself. I did NOTHING. Never done that before either. Doing that again too. Steve has never had a massage before. He was always afraid it would be awkward and weird or that he might pitch a tent on the table. I, however, am a massage junkie. Unfortunately due to the pervert and weirdo factor, massages don’t always go well for me.

I should have known not to let him make the massage appointment. Cuz ya’ll? The weirdo/pervert quotient goes disproportionately higher the less clothes I have on. That’s right, I’ve been molested by DOCTORS. Consequently: only female doctors for the naked, private parts. I also have that rule about massage therapists. Except Steve forgot to tell them that. So guess what? I get there and the massage therapist is a dude. That’s right. A dude. I uttered a few choice words under my breath and went into the locker room to change. Now in the past I have always left my underwear on if it was my first massage with someone (link to explanation why above.) But this time, I thought, “Eff it. This dude even comes close to my privates and I will Hapkido him so fast, he’ll have 15 broken bones before I yell “Help!” We had just learned a brutal technique that will break the wrist, elbow and shoulder in less than five seconds. Oh and it flips him onto the ground, so I would have the option of kicks to the head and ribs. See? 15 broken bones, easy.

So I lay down on the table and he comes in and he puts his hands on me and moans. Not “Oh Crap another massage, my arms are sore” but “Oh yeah, touch me right there, baby.” My eyes went wide and face adopted a WTF expression through the little peephole in the table. And my first thought was “Oh no he di’nt!” Sigh. He did. While he was making sweet love to my back, I must have tensed my right arm in preparation for throwing a ‘bow to his groin. Because he stopped moaning and quickly moved to my right shoulder. Moaning temporarily ceased until he moved down to my right leg and was on the right side of the table. That f*cker must have known I couldn’t kick him while he was holding onto my leg because not only did he start moaning again, but I swear to you, he was dry humping the damn table. Seriously. I wish I was making this up.

So then– wait, you know about my feet issues right? Part of my feet issues is that I HATE things between my toes. Steve sometimes will grab my feet and stick his fingers between my toes just to mess with me while I kick and scream and try to get his fingers out from between my toes. I can not stand to have something between my toes. It’s like the worst feeling EVER. EV-ER. So Humper takes out rocks and starts rubbing fiery hot rocks all over me. (I had specifically requested NOT to be burned by rocks, but I guess no one was listening.) ANYWAY, as I’m receiving third degree burns all over my back and legs with the rocks, he suddenly grabs my foot and PUTS ROCKS BETWEEN MY TOES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I let out a yelp then stifled a scream. Cuz ya’ll? Worst. Thing. EVER. EV-ER. Rocks. Between. My. Toes. I made subtle little kicking motions trying to flick them out but they were stubbornly shoved in there. Like a cat with scotch tape on it’s feet.

There I am. Rocks between my effing toes, Humper, moaning and humping, and I am wondering who is going to die today for this. If Humper hadn’t gotten smart about the moaning and humping, I could have totally thrown a ‘bow to the crotch. But he had gotten wise to the whole thing. It’s like he knew. Oh wait. Yeah, I made sure to mention all that tension in my back was from Martial Arts. Hey, that might have been when he moved out of striking range.

So I turn over and he starts on my neck. And Dude? How about a Tic Tac? No? Well don’t breathe near me cuz your breath is STANK. As I’m gagging on his breath, he walks over and gets a giant metal bowl. Of course I’m thinking, “Um, what do you think you are doing with that?” And he tells me it’s a Tibetan singing bowl. WTF? Like the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter? Honestly! So he puts this on my stomach and gets one of those thingies that you bang gongs with and says he has to bang it from all the different directions. It makes a gong sound, then feels very much like lying in an enormous gong. It feels that unpleasant. And my mind starts to wander. “Dude, I’m gonna throw this effin’ thing at you, so take your rocks, and your moaning and your humping and get this bowl off of me. I’m glad you didn’t try to touch me inappropriately, I’m very thankful for that, you know? But the dry humping the table? That was almost as bad. And totally uncalled for. I didn’t even invite you in for coffee.” And then, as fast as he came into my life, Weirdy McHumperson takes his bowl and leaves me.

Because I. Am. A. Weirdo. Magnet.

 

Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

Every now and then a post requires it’s own theme music. This would be one of the posts. So before you read further, play the video. If you choose to watch the whole video before reading on, again, I must tell you that you need to hit play again because this post is all the more better with theme music.

In fact, I have to play it just to write.

As some of you may remember, son #1 broke his hip in February. In June, his physical therapist said he needed to do Shudokan Karate to fully rehabilitate his hip. So off we went to the dojo. And here is where son #1 found his passion. There is nothing in his young life that he has ever had a greater passion for. It didn’t happen over time. The first day I knew something was going to be different about this activity. He came home every day and would practice. At any given time, I will find him with fists raised, practicing kicks, strikes, and punches. He moves with a grace I have never seen in him.

Son #2 loves karate too. By September, we were spending 4-5 days a week at the dojo. They couldn’t get enough of it. And here’s where our lives have forever changed. One Saturday morning we were waiting for the kids to finish and Steve says “Let’s do Karate too.” I made a face. “Uh, it’s not really my thing, but you can.” One of the Senseis in the dojo was nearby and told us we should watch the show Human Weapon. We started recording it for the kids to watch. I’ve never been interested in the martial arts, but I began watching the show and I was hooked.

Steve and I have played sports together, like hockey and softball, and the one thing I discovered is that when someone is a foot taller and a hundred pounds heavier, it’s just damn near impossible to get the upper hand. In hockey I have to resort to tripping and checking or he sends me flying with a flick of his arm. But with this martial arts thing….I learned that skill, not size matters. After watching one particular episode of Human Weapon, I was able to flip Steve. That’s right, I threw my 6′5″ husband like he was a rag doll. And suddenly, I was just devastated that I had not been introduced to martial arts sooner. This was FUN!

Steve started turning up the pressure to join the dojo. I kept insisting that the Shudokan style was not me. I was more interested in Judo or Jujitsu. “I want to throw people!” I kept saying, and still he kept up his quiet persistence. Then a month ago we were waiting for the kids to finish and there were two women practicing in the lobby for their third degree black belts. They were throwing real punches and kicks, their Gis (uniforms) were popping with the contact and I turned to Steve with an ear to ear grin and said “I want to do THAT!” I waited until they were finished and went up to one of them and said “I want to do what you’re doing but I don’t want to learn the Katas.” She grinned and said “Then combat Hapkido is for you and we have a great program here.” It was done. I was hooked and I signed up for Hapkido and Steve signed up for Karate that day.

With the four of us in Martial Arts, we are no longer a normal family. Last Monday, I was getting ready for class and I came out of the bedroom in my Gi (uniform). As soon as Steve saw me, he went into a Karate down block, fist poised. I went into a Hapkido fighting stance, both fists raised. We eyed each other warily. I said “Is this how we’re greeting each other now?” he replied “I guess so.” We feigned a few punches and kicks before I went downstairs to leave. It’s like the movie Mr. and Mrs. Smith. Or Kato from Pink Panther. At any given moment you must be ready for punches, kicks and strikes. And since I’m learning a totally different style, it makes for some interesting tussles. This song you’re hearing, Kung Fu fighting has become our family’s theme song. You can hear “Mom! You totally left yourself open for a kidney punch!” and  ”No strikes to the temple, Son, it can kill someone.” or “HA! That kick totally missed my head!” coming from the kitchen. The kids’ favorite activity now is to go throw each other in the living room. Son #1 and I were sparring in the driveway the other day.

It could get ugly. It almost did two weeks ago over chocolate. I had just come home from Hapkido and flopped into a chair. I have a sacred bar of chocolate. The damn thing costs me $8 a bar at Whole Foods so I eat it in small pieces over the course of a couple of weeks. It’s my favorite. So Steve says “I’m going to eat your last piece of chocolate.” I threatened ”Don’t you dare.” and he said “Oh I’m eating it.” I had learned to triple punch that night: an elbow to the solar plexus, followed closely by a fist to the face and groin. “Don’t make me get up and triple punch you. If I have to get up, I’m triple punching you.” I hear wrapper crinkling and he’s standing there with the chocolate in his hand, grinning. I jump up out the chair and run across the room. I start to throw the elbow and he jumps and drops the chocolate. (He will claim I knocked the chocolate out his hand, but I never touched him. ) We both stare in horror at the chocolate on the floor, look at each other, crack up laughing, then the smile fades and he says with dead seriousness ”Oh it’s on now!”

It could get worse. My sparring partner in class has been taking Hapkido for about 2 months. Her husband has been doing it for about a year. She says to me last week “I tried to get Stuart with a leg sweep last night. I went in for the kick and next thing I knew I was on my ass.” Very serious I asked “Did you surprise him with it? Cuz if he knows it’s coming he’s gonna take you out first.” Puzzled she says “Yeah, I came up behind him. He had no idea it was coming.” We both stood there scratching our heads then decided we needed to practice some more. Surprise leg sweeps needed to be practiced. They’re an all-martial arts family too.

On Friday son #1 went to a board breaking class. Steve went to pick him up and he walked in the door carrying this:

He had a look of pure rapture on his face. That’s right, he broke an inch-thick board with his hands. This kid has found his calling!

Steve and I are still waiting for our sparring gear to arrive. When it does, you can be certain you’ll find all four of us out on the lawn Kung Fu Fighting.