No Crazies Allowed
There are only a handful of lots left in our housing development. One is right beside us and it's a fabulous lot. The same size as ours, it backs directly to the park. It's going to have a perfectly flat back yard and I was puzzled as to why it wasn't selling.
It could just be that the guys don't have anything better to do than transfer dirt from one lot to another today, but they are completely clearing it today and taking the dirt and rocks elsewhere.
While I'm excited about having an actual house beside us instead of a dirt pile, getting new neighbors is always a bit nerve-wracking. Maybe it's because I used to live next to the local Britney Spears, but I know that one bad neighbor can really wreck things for you.
I started thinking about how weird it's been living here, with no crazy neighbor to speak of and I started to reminisce. Everyone around here is very normal and extremely nice. They also read my blog (Hi neighbors!), so I wouldn't tell you if it were otherwise.
If you haven't read it before, it's new to you. Plus, everyone can appreciate a good story about a crazy neighbor wearing fuzzy slippers who stares into your windows while drinking a glass of wine at 10 a.m. right?
Affirmation
Today was the second class of the new semester. Everyone showed up, including a new add, minus the girl who emailed to tell me she spent last night in the ER after she split her finger open when a window slammed on it. She's off to a good start, huh?
The beginning of the semester is kind of like a first date. You think you like this person and all, but you need to figure them out. What makes them tick, what sets them off, what kind of person are they really?
Things went smoothly enough. I had some decent participation and some good questions. For the most part, the students seem eager to please. We'll see what their first assignments bring next week.
As I was dismissing my class and the students were leaving the room, I heard a familiar voice from out in the hallway.
"Oh man, look, it's Mrs. B! Hey Mrs. B, how are you?"
I glanced at the door as I erased the white board, but I didn't see anyone. I laughed a bit and yelled back, "Who's out there?"
A friendly voice called back, "It's your favorite student!"
I recognized the voice. "Oh, then it must be Kevin!" I yelled back.
"Oh man, did you hear that? I said, 'favorite student' and she totally knew it was me'" I heard him telling his friends. I was cracking up as I finished erasing the board.
Soon he appeared in my doorway as the last of my students were exiting the room.
"How you doing Mrs. B? I miss this class. I miss you. This was the BEST class EVER!" he said. "You new students better treat you right!" he said giving them some warning looks. "I tell everyone I know to take this class. You're the best Mrs. B. I wish I could take this class again."
I couldn't help but smile. Not only had he said these nice things. He said them in front of my new crew of students. I don't think I'll really need to see the student evaluations when they come back. That was pretty much all I needed to know.
Hammer Head
Someone has released an army of little men with hammers in my head and when I find out who did it. . . it's not going to be pretty. In addition to the pulsing and pounding head, my throat feels like a swollen mess and let's not even talk about how bad my spine hurts right now.
After being kissed, hugged and breathed on by "Typhoid Mary" (aka Lil C) for a week, I knew it was only a matter of time. Plus, you know, Mr. BBM spent the weekend doing nothing but being miserable and daring to breathe his germs in the house too.
When I realized I was getting sick yesterday, I quickly cleaned the entire house. I washed sheets and clothes. I put away all the clean clothes. I vacuumed the entire house and then mopped all the tile floors. I can't stand to be sick in a dirty house.
Because I was having Mommy guilt, I also took Lil C outside for some sledding and snowman building.
This snowman looks the way I feel right now. . .
Here's hoping tomorrow is a better day for both of us.
Who Designs This Stuff Anyway?
The girls are at a playdate today and I've had hours to myself. I spent part of my day shopping. I went to Gymboree and spent my Gymbucks with perfection-only $1.74 over my target amount. I was going to stop by KB toys to pick up a toy for a birthday party we have this coming weekend, but they are going out of business and I didn't really think a 1-year old would appreciate store shelves. Yes, everything must go.
When I realized that was futile, I thought I'd try to find a new pair of jeans. I got some kind of oil stain on my current favorites that just won't come out. Plus, they're becoming less and less of a favorite thanks to my hard work at the gym so it was time for a new pair.
I first went in Gap. Because sizes are completely different from store to store, I took back everything from a 4 Regular to an 8 Long. Not a single pair was purchase worthy unless I feel like being a plumber. I don't get why clothing designers can't get that little hip to waist ratio right. Girls are not straight from top to bottom. I tried on about 10 pairs and decided it wasn't my day.
Then I remembered The Limited. In the past I've been able to find pants there and they're always long enough. I walked to that end of the mall and did a scan of the general area. My beloved Limited is now a car showroom.
As I did a scan of the surrounding stores, I realized I was in teeny bopper hell. And not just teeny bopper hell, but rather teens trying to look like they work the streets hell. What the hell?
I figured I'd try one more store and went into Express. I know the economy is bad, but there were two employees for the entire store and not a one was about to help me find a suitable size. I was about to throw in the towel. I was stupid to wear a fleece zip-up pullover and a heavy down coat to the mall. I was breaking out in a serious sweat.
I took three pairs back to the dressing room and tried them on. I quickly realized that designers aren't worried about the hip to waist ratio because apparently they think that all girls have really fat ankles. What is up with these flare jeans that are wide enough to fit a tire? Sorry, but this hug the heiney, show the crack, squeeze your thighs in and then let your ankles breathe business is ridiculous.
So I ended up in my favorite store, Ann Taylor Loft (not at the mall). I tried on a couple pairs of jeans, but I know they are going to be half an inch too short as soon as I wash them. I need to order online.In addition to jeans I was looking for some kind of "going out" top to wear for my birthday party. Ann Taylor Loft didn't really have anything, so I was out of luck.
Were you aware that the new going out shirt styles are completely incompatible with any and every type of bra ever manufactured? I swear clothing designers are creating clothing for women with fake ones exclusively. Real ones need a bra. If you don't want the "support your own boobs" look, then your only other choice is this baggy business and seriously, I couldn't figure out where my head was supposed to go. When the sleeve openings are as wide and baggy as the neck opening, it's time to call the fashion police. That stuff doesn't flatter anyone. Don't kid yourself if you think it does.
It occurred to me as I was driving home that maybe I'm getting old. But then I decided I am not going to accept that. Most teenagers who walk around wearing that stuff look ridiculous and that's not just old people talk. I don't start every sentence with "When I was a youngin'" and T.I.'s Paper Trail is currently my favorite album download. I'm not old!
Nope. I refuse to accept it. I like to dress nice and stylish when I go out and there has got to be a place that makes clothes for women like me. Where are you??? Any ideas people? This girl is desperate.
That Familiar Feeling
Before I tore my ACL, I would miss a karate class and Mr. BBM would know it. I was a cranky girl when I didn't get my weekly dose of dojo time. The frustration of dealing with barely being able to walk, being tied to crutches, being locked in an uncomfortable brace for weeks, and being in near constant pain made me even more cranky. Cranky just became part of my nature. Ok, I'll admit it's always been a part of my nature; but it became a much bigger part.
Joining the gym in October started to change that. Physical activity is an amazing thing for sanity and peace of mind. Breaking a sweat, working hard, making goals and meeting them really got me thinking about getting back in the dojo again. Sometimes, if you go so long without something, you forget how much it used to mean to you and how much you want it back in your life again. Then something reminds you and the drive to get back to doing what you used to love so much is right there again.
I wonder though, can it ever really be the same again? Class used to take me away from my stress. It was an escape and a release. With a brace locked securely around my leg and the all too vivid memory of what this past year has been like, can it ever be the same?
A friend who went through this with both knees once told me that it takes two years before you don't feel any twinges of pain or discomfort. Two years before thinking about your knee becomes secondary to living your life. I don't think I want to wait two years!
I made it my goal when I scheduled this last surgery that I would be back in the dojo around my birthday which is now just three weeks away. I was hoping I'd be back meeting with my trainer today instead of waiting for an open incision to close. I realize my goal of 2-7 may be a bit too ambitious.
In order to go back though, I think I'm going to have to allow myself to suck for a while. I'm going to have to dig deep inside to get through the frustration of uncomfortable stances and moves that don't want to come naturally anymore.
It's a lot of pressure to walk back into the dojo after over a year of not being there on a regular basis (other than to watch your daughter's class). As a 1st kyu who used to really know her stuff, it's disappointing to come back and not be at your best. You start to wonder if the newcomers think you're a slacker. Of course they don't know the whole story, but it doesn't matter. You're a brown belt, 1st kyu and you should know your stuff.
You should be able to sit in seiza (I still can't).
I am excited about the prospect of starting back up again in just a few short weeks. I just hope it doesn't take long for karate to feel the way it used to feel.
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