Of Breakfalls in Cocktail Dresses
You never quite know when the need for your martial arts knowledge is going to pop up. Muscle memory is important and the reason why a martial artist practices the same things over and over and over again. Last night I had to use one of my martial arts skills and you might be surprised to know which one and just how well it worked.
We went to Mr. BBM's work party last night and had a great time. I was able to meet Edward while there. Clearly, he digs me too.
Hello new Facebook profile picture. I was just gearing up to get out on the dance floor when the night ended abruptly after only making it into music from the 70's. When the DJ was playing the last song at 10:30, a group of Mr. BBM's co-workers started plotting our after party plans. We made our way to the parking lot, where we realized that strawberry colored coats and silver shoes are all the rage.
And then one of the girls mentioned a bar/nightclub down the road. Although there was much protesting from a Mr. BBM who knew that if he got me anywhere near a dance floor with music about "dropping it low" (My God-every song is about dropping it low these days), he was in for a long night (he would be correct), we were on our way. (Man, that was a horrible sentence. Please don't show my students.)
We arrived at the club where college students in the area probably go, slightly overdressed for the venue. But there is strength in numbers so we walked in with our heads held high. It didn't take long for a small group of us to make our way to the dance floor. It didn't take long for me to start harassing the DJ either.
I had three simple requests:
"Say Aah" by Trey Songz, "Blame it" by Jamie Foxx, and "Baby by Me" by 50 Cent.
The DJ took in this girl in the purple cocktail dress and couldn't help but be surprised that I wasn't requesting something more appropriate for a girl about to celebrate yet another anniversary of her 29th birthday. He told me he would play them all and I went back to the dance floor, happy to wait.
While waiting, the DJ put that line dance song on that goes something like "down down do do down" or something and since we were in the middle of the floor with nowhere to go, we figured we'd better learn how to do it. We watched this one young guy who clearly knew what he was doing and copied everything he did. He had a unique way of dancing that involved kind of hopping around on your feet and so we all joined in.
We were quite proud of our newly learned skills so we were demonstrating for a couple of people who weren't in the mood to get their groove on when the unthinkable happened. Someone had spilled their drink on the floor, and as everyone knows who reads this blog, if there is an accident about to happen, it will find me.
I hopped adeptly from foot to foot and then I was falling. My right foot slipped in the beer sludge and went flying across the floor, wiping my left leg out with it. I had a second of realization that I was going down and it was not going to be pretty.
And then I landed on the floor and was quickly back on my feet, thanks to Mr. BBM's P90X'ed arm that lifted me off the floor instantly. That's when I realized that I must have done a side breakfall because nothing hurt. I wiped my wet feet off, checked the status of my dress (totally dry), and told the bouncers to mop that up before someone (me) breaks a hip or something!
Then my night got even better. A young guy who was sitting nearby saw the whole thing and was smiling at me. If there's one thing people need to learn in life, it's to laugh at yourself. So I did. I nodded in his direction and put my arms out to indicate that my awesome slide declared me "safe." He laughed and a little later he came over to talk to me. The girls I was dancing with were rolling their eyes. Clearly he had not seen the ring or the wrinkles. His opening question was "What do you do for a living?"
I told him I taught at a university and he looked taken aback. "How old are you?" he blurted out before then telling me that he had asked a really rude question. I laughed. "How old do you think I am?" I asked him back.
Without a second thought he said "25" and that's when we became best friends. Seriously though, I cracked up laughing and told him he was off by about 10 years. When I told him I'd been married for over 10 years and have two kids he shook his head in disbelief and made his way back to his seat. He may have had a little encouragement from a guy by the name of "Bob the Blocker." The fiance of one of my dancing friends, he had a very refined way of getting guys to leave us alone.
Still, the guy made my night. When you're a week away from turning 35, that kind of compliment feels fantastic.
A little later, some guy decided to do that back into you and dance thing and started trying to talk to me. He asked me if he could buy me a drink. I told him I didn't think my husband would appreciate that very much and he said he would buy my husband a drink too because he's a "lucky man." Then he guessed that I was 22 years old.
He became my new best friend, and then made his way over to Mr. BBM to tell him how lucky he was to have me. I'm guessing that after picking me up off the floor, Mr. BBM wasn't feeling particularly lucky.
Clearly, I entered an alternate universe last night or something. In a place where young guys think I'm 22 and I actually know how to do breakfalls. . . that's the only possibility.
Learning Again
Last night, I had every intention of staying home and curling up with a book. It had been an early start for me yesterday and I was tired. Couple that with the fact that my knee is feeling cranky and I had no intention of going to karate, much as I wanted to be there mentally.
I made dinner and sat down to eat with the family and the whining began. Lil C wanted two spoons and she had taken one from Big I. Big I then complained about the food and stated that the rice "had no flavor" despite the fact that I had cooked it in chicken stock and covered it in sauce and mushrooms from the chicken marsala I also made. Then Lil C started screaming at the very top of her lungs about the spoon and I lost it. I ate my last bite, took my plate to the sink, put my shoes on, grabbed my karate bag and I was out the door.
"See, you whined so much you made mommy go to karate!" Mr. BBM said.
I'm glad they did.
I was able to learn two new kata tonight that I'll need for 2nd degree black belt (not that I'm even thinking about that at all in the slightest way possible). It's just nice to learn something new every once in a while. I learned the dreaded Suiyoshi Nokun Ni which I wouldn't even watch before last night because it's so similar to Suiyoshi Nokun Ichi and easily confused for those about to test for black belt. I also learned Odo No Sai Ichi which I remembered a lot of from a training camp session I attended in the summer.
It was nice to concentrate so much on something new that I was actually able to sort of forget about my knee for a little while. It was nice to have a mental break from that.
Today, I'm going to force myself to work out in an attempt to strengthen my leg muscles further. And Thursday, if nothing comes up between now and then, I may actually be able to make it into a second night of karate in the same week. It's good for my soul; my soul needs it.
The Good and the Ugly (No Need for the Bad)
Today was my first day back on campus and it was a good one. I'm teaching Fundamentals of Speech only this semester; and although it's at 8 a.m. I am pumped for this semester. First, I don't know how it happened, but this adjunct got one of the best rooms on campus. I have white boards. I have projector screens that automatically emerge from the ceiling at the push of a button. I have some ELMO thing that I don't even know how to use, but I have one. I also have enough computers for all my students, comfortably arranged around the perimeter of the room which is going to make a HUGE difference when we start researching speech topics. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but praying to the classroom assignment gods and maybe having done a semester of chalkboard purgatory have done me well.
In addition to the fantastic surroundings, I seem to have a great group of students. I have six students from previous semesters who are all awesome, and the new students seem to be a nice group of kids as well. My class is loaded with athletes and nursing majors. I might as well just give them all A's now. I had one eye-rolling girl (there's always one) who warmed up after about 15 minutes and they all seemed like good sports, even when I announced that they'd be giving a short speech today. I see a lot of potential in this group and am excited to go back to class on Thursday. Here's hoping this trend continues.
On another note, I had my awesome physical therapist and his wonderfully talented graphic designer wife over for dinner and fun this weekend. I whipped out my knee once again and had him take a look at it. Once again, my PT strongly recommended I go back to see the surgeon. I asked him what he thinks is going on and he mentioned the possibility of something going on with the screw in my tibia. Perhaps it's backing out. Sometimes screws need to be removed.
Mr. BBM did some research on it and found me pages of people on the internet who have the same problems that I have: unreasonable pain at the tibia site, the ability to feel the screw through my skin, bruising that won't go away, pain that doesn't quit, the inability to kneel in any way, shape or form without looking like a crazy person. I felt a gush of relief when I saw the pages of people with the same issue. I also felt fresh new fear.
Many people who have the problems I have had to have another surgery to remove the screw. Almost everyone who went this route reported incision pain for a couple days, followed by relief, sweet, sweet relief. If that's the problem, and it has to be done, then it's going to get done. It would absolutely figure that I'm one of the 3% who would have this problem. The symptoms seem to match up exactly to what mine are and I'm going to make an appointment and see what I can do about it.
On one hand I'm happy to know I'm not alone and that something can be done if this is my problem. On the other hand, it's another surgery, the third one on the same knee. That, I dread. However, knowing there are options and that I won't have to just accept pain as part of my daily life is a good thing.
If surgery is required, I'll need to time it just right, probably over spring break, so that I won't need to take any time away from campus. But hopefully, if this is the path I have to take, it will be the last time I have to walk down the surgery aisle, squeezing a gown shut behind me and hoping for the best. In my wildest dreams I imagine myself doing karate without feeling any pain. That alone, would be worth it right there.
Chuckie Disease
Today I went to Chuckie Cheese with Lil C, and another Mom and daughter. We were having a nice lunch and getting ready to play when an extremely pregnant woman and her young son walked in. I normally wouldn't even take notice, but it was kind of hard not to notice this particular woman (if you could call her that).
From the looks of her face, she seemed to be about 17 or 18 at the most. She was wearing tight stretchy white see-through pants and no underwear. I wasn't looking for it; but it's hard not to notice when someone bends in front of you with their very see-through pants right in your face. To top it off, she was wearing a stretchy white and black tube top which made her look like a deranged snake that had swallowed a basketball. Did I mention it was 40 degrees outside today?
She looked like she was about to give birth any second, but that didn't stop her from dragging her son around like he was a rag doll and screaming at him every two minutes at the very top of her lungs. She struck me as the abusive type, and I couldn't help but feel sorry for the little guy. I shot her dirty looks every time she did it and tried to control my breathing. I wanted to smack her around, especially after she threw her arm high above her head and then slammed it down on his butt. I figured it wouldn't look very good though if I physically assaulted a pregnant woman in Chuckie Cheese. I decided glaring at her and shaking my head disapprovingly would be better for me.
As we walked by her later, I joked with my friend, who happens to be pregnant, that I hoped she wouldn't be wearing a get-up like that the next time I saw her. As she stood there in black sweatpants and a turtle-neck, she couldn't help but laugh.
As we left an hour later, we stood in the parking lot and let the girls say goodbye. It was as my friend pulled out that I saw the crazy tube top girl again. There she stood, at the edge of the parking lot, with her son about two feet from a busy road that serves as the point of entrance for a busy shopping center. She wasn't paying any attention to him. She was too busy watching for her bus and puffing on a cigarette.
A cigarette. . . while pregnant.
I shook my head with disgust and then I started getting angry. Here she is, a woman who obviously has little appreciation for the little life she already brought into this world and there she is smoking a cigarette. I thought back to the video I had seen once, about how babies in utero actually don't get oxygen while their mothers puff away, that the umbilical cord tries to protect the fetus when the mother doesn't give a crap, by lowering the amount of blood allowed in to the baby. This is where the damage takes its toll and why babies of smokers have issues. For most people, it's a choice to smoke or not, but for babies? There is no choice.
Then I started getting really mad, thinking about the fact that my tax dollars are probably helping her to pay for her hideous tube top and that the damage she's doing to her unborn baby will probably be paid for by tax-payers in the form of our insurance premiums and taxes. I thought about all the people I know who have lost babies, those who've tried desperately for months and years to have babies and those who would cherish each little life as I continued to watch her.
I thought about driving over and telling her off. I wanted to tell her what a stupid idiot she is, and tell her to get some anger management classes and some smoking cessation classes as well.
But I didn't. I drove away seething instead.
It's a good thing I went to karate this week and got some frustrations out. It's a really good thing.
Best Quote Ever
Last night was the first monthly board meeting that I was able to attend. One of the committees I'm on met at 6:30 and the meeting officially started at 7:30 p.m. We left there around 11 p.m. last night.
I was slightly worried about the direction the meeting was going to go, when during the house meeting, three of the committee members began discussing their burial plans. The debate raged on between cremation, burial and masoleum internment. The only other board member on that committee under the age of 50 and I exchanged horrified glances for a couple minutes before we got back on a less dreary track.
Much to our surprise, the other board member and I were able to convince the house committee of some necessary changes. It was a piece of cake.
The main meeting started and there was much debate and discussion about many things. Some of the comments were downright hysterical and as secretary of the board, I did my best to document everything that was said.
While discussing a touchy subject, I was much surprised when one of the older board members said he sees it like this: "If you always do what you've always done, then you'll only get what you've already got." It set the tone for the rest of the meeting and I was able to successfully ignore the whispered comments from a certain unpleasant much older person sitting nearby who seemed to be irritated that I was taking minutes on my laptop and irritated that many of the people in the room even existed.
It's easy to ignore it when you're getting what you want. All in all, I was surprised at the willingness of some people to want change, and not surprised at the objection to any and all change from a certain few. We've decided to call ourselves the "turnaround board" though and it's going to happen. It's really going to happen and I couldn't be happier about that.
Copyright
© Copyright 2006-2019 blackbeltmama dot com ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Follow Me
Blog Designed By
My Creations
Things You Could Care Less About
