August 15, 2007
Speaking Up
Two weeks ago, my husband and I took our guest for the weekend to the Musik Fest that happens every summer. The Musik Fest is awesome, featuring many national and international recording artists. Many of the performances are free. There are things for everyone to do, including music for the kids. We had a great time; but the music isn’t really what I want to tell you about.
As my friend and I were walking through the crowds, we noticed a lot of military men. They were all walking around in their uniforms in 90 degree weather, yet they looked flawless in their appearance. I have always been a sucker for a man in a uniform, so as we walked by a couple of these guys, I leaned over to my friend and told her that every time I see a military man or woman, I just want to go up to them, and thank them for all they do for this country. She agreed and told me I should.
At the next tent, we stopped to listen to a performer. There were three army guys sitting in front of me. When the performer was finished, I leaned forward, said "Excuse me" and then went on to thank them for all that they do for this country. I told them I didn’t think that they heard it enough, so I wanted to let them know how much my family and I appreciate them.
The first guy looked me in the eyes and nodded slowly as I talked to him. He looked touched that I had chosen to say that to him and his friends. His friend, standing behind him, looked completely shocked. When I was finished with my little speech, they both nodded and quietly said "thank you" and it was obvious they really meant it. I can’t tell you how good it made me feel to be able to tell them how much I appreciate them and their service. If you haven’t thanked a military man or woman, I highly recommend you take the time to do so if you happen to come across one.
If you’d like to do something more proactive, you can email military men and women through this site. Here, you’ll be paired up pen pal style with a service man or woman. You can also go here to email a soldier a thank you. If you’d like to send supplies to Iraq for school children (facilitated by our military men and women), you can find more info on how to do that here.
Our leaders make political decisions, but our soldiers are just doing their jobs and being paid next to nothing for what they do. They deserve our support and thanks. If the mood moves you, please click on one of the links above and help to make their day.
August 13, 2007
Pirate School Drop Out
I have always been intrigued by tales of pirates. We vacation regularly on the Outer Banks, which is said to have hundreds if not thousands of shipwrecks off shore. Black Beard stories are also plentiful, and even the story behind how Nags Head got its name is related to pirates.
Despite the fact that our home is filled up to the chimney with princess stuff, we also have a decent amount of pirate booty in these parts. Big I insisted on having pirate swords when we visited Disney World a few years ago. It can be quite challenging to maneuver a sword wielding three-year old around
Disney World. Trust me on this one.
She’s also added to her collection an eye patch, and a cool bandana complete with cross bones. We’ve had plenty of sword battles here, and since this family is familiar with samurai I’d have to honestly say that our sword battles more closely resemble something you’d see in Pirates of the Caribbean.
We’ve seen all but the last of the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. I joyfully watch these with Big I because if pirates look like Orlando Bloom and Johnny Depp, then sign me up and NOW. And don’t feel bad for Mr. BBM here, because I have told the man that it’s fine with me if he lets his hair grow long and mangy and stops brushing his teeth. Pirates are hot; well, the Hollywood ones anyway. Mr. BBM just thinks that such an appearance might be detrimental to his career advancement.
Each year, when it’s time to pick out Halloween costumes, I imagine that we’ll be invited to some cool party where we can go as a family of pirates. We know all the words to the pirate song "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate’s life for me" and we can certainly talk in Piratese. "Yargh matey." You get the idea.
Unfortunately though, I think I’m going to have to drop out of Pirate training, because this wanna-be pirate may not ever be able to look at rum again. I’m pretty sure rum is a requirement.
Rum and I have a troubled relationship. Back at a college date party, my date (pre-Mr. BBM) decided that the drink of choice for the evening was Captain and Coke. Captain and Coke made me a very happy girl, right up until I wasn’t anymore. I stayed away from rum after that entirely.
Then a friend told me that I had to try a mojito this summer. Mojito’s have rum, club soda, lime, mint leaves and cane sugar and they are fabulous. We’ve made them for company multiple times and have enjoyed them on the few occasions where Mr. BBM and I actually manage to get the girls to bed before it’s time to crash ourselves.
Being that rum and I seemed to have repaired our relationship, I took a chance at a wedding reception we attended this weekend on some rum and diet coke. I was feeling fine. Like I said, rum tends to make me pretty happy. But we started talking to a relative and her husband and he started bringing me drinks much faster than I would have liked. But hey, they were little glasses with a lot of ice, and what’s a girl going to do when she’s standing no where near a table, hold two at a time? I mean, that’s just tacky. So I drank them and he continued to replace them and before I knew it, I was swaggering around just like a pirate.
When the reception was over, Mr. BBM and I followed the bride and groom into the hotel nightclub and danced our derrieres off until the wee hours of the morning. (It’s not often we have a babysitter people, so cut me a break.) It was quite fun, minus the fact that I spent hours dancing on 2.5 inch heels. Did you know that rum numbs the toes? Because I sure didn’t, not until the next morning when I woke up and thought that someone must have beaten both of my little toes with a hammer when I wasn’t looking. Either that or maybe someone dropped a cannonball or two on them. It’s possible. I’m sure pirates have that happen to them all the time.
I also learned why pirates have that swagger to their step. Rum can make one a bit wobbly, even the next day, especially after wearing high heels. That’s probably why pirates wear boots, or walk around in their bare feet. That’s also why they don’t have kids on their ships, because they need to be able to sleep until the rum has been deactivated.
The day after the wedding (before the rum had been properly deactivated), Mr. BBM decided that he wanted to take a windy, bumpy drive up to the top of a nearby mountain. It wasn’t really working for me. I realized that motion sickness is amplified by a former night of rum; and I made him take me back home to nurse myself back to wellness with some Oodles of Noodles soup and water.
Since I’m guessing that sailing on a pirate ship is probably more motion sickness inducing than driving in a car; and since I’m also guessing they don’t have the magic elixir known currently as ramen noodles. . I think my only choice is going to be dropping out of pirate school.
Somehow I’m thinking that when they said "Drink up me hearties, yo ho" they meant rum, exclusively. Switching to something else is going to be a serious faux pas. It’s a sad day people, but I’ll get over it eventually. This wanna-be-pirate has just walked the plank.
If you can’t get enough of me today, I’m once again guest posting over at TDA Training. As if rum wasn’t controversial enough, I’m blogging about faith, rank and Funakoshi.
August 12, 2007
Out of the Blogfice
I’m hanging out at TDA Training today. Go check it out.
August 10, 2007
What’s in a Name?
I’ve been tagged by One Crazy Chick. I struggled with what to do regarding this meme. I have enjoyed a certain anonymity all this time and I didn’t know whether or not I wanted to end that, so. . . here goes:
My "name" is: Black Belt Mama
Origin: Okinawan/American
Meaning: Mother of two with mad kata skillz (sort of).
My real name is: TOP SECRET CLASSIFIED as in: If I tell you, I’d then have to kill you ninja-style, and seeing as how I like you. . . well, you get the idea.
Origin: Hebrew
Meaning: Wealthy (how I wish that were true), or "God See’s." In literature, it was a name created by Shakespeare for a character in one of his great works.
But that’s not why my parents gave me my top secret name. My parents were somewhat a part of the long-haired hippy crowd back in 1975, and my name comes from a collection of songs by Seals and Crofts. If you figure it out, keep it to yourself. Remember, it’s TOP SECRET and revealing it means that your life may be in danger.
August 9, 2007
So It Turns Out, My Father-in-Law’s Not Nuts
I finished reading Gichin Funakishi’s "Karate-Do My Way of Life" last night. It was a fabulous read. I have so much that I want to say about it, and I will over the next few days but I wanted to start by bringing up just a very small piece of something that I read.
In the book, Funakishi addresses his longevity and what he thinks might be reasons for his good health. He states, "I may also mention that it is my custom, and always has been, to eat hot meals in summer and cold ones in winter. For example, I never, as most people do, eat ice cream or sherbet in hot weather."
Hmm, that got me to thinking.
When I first started dating my husband, back when we were in college, his parents used to frequently come down to campus and take us out to eat. My father-in-law used to order things in a way that I thought was pretty silly. His response for the drink order was always: "Iced tea-NO ICE" and he would get extremely upset if that glass came with even one ice cube in it. He would also get frustrated as he watched the waitress refill his glass from a tea pitcher, as there were always ice cubes lingering and just threatening to jump ship and make his night a little less enjoyable. He would also occasionally request that servers go back to the kitchen and get his tea directly from the tea brewer so as to avoid the mingling with the dreaded ice cubes. Of course, I informed him that the tea comes out scalding hot, which is why they pour it into pitchers with ice, but he didn’t really care for my commentary.
What I found even more unusual was his behavior regarding soup. He would order a nice hot cup or bowl of soup and then ask the waiter or waitress to bring a glass of ice to accompany it. He would proceed to load up his soup with ice cubes until the temperature was a more tolerable one.
At first, I said nothing. I was just getting to know him after all. But as I got more comfortable around him, I started to chide him a bit. Having worked as a waitress on and off through college, I warned him that his peculiar requests might be getting him a little more than he bargained for when it came to his main entree (if you catch my drift). I also began to fear, that because the rest of us were at his table, we might also suffer a similar fate when it came to our enchiladas or hamburgers.
Eventually, he tried to explain to me this peculiar behavior, and basically (and I hope I’m getting this right) he didn’t think it was healthy to eat or drink things that were very far off from your own body temperature. He thought it was a shock to your system and could mean deteriorating health down the road. I respectfully listened, and began to have more tolerance for his ordering style in restaurants. Of course, that doesn’t mean I don’t pick on him endlessly about it. We all do, but at least I understood the reason behind the perceived madness.
When I read Funakoshi’s customs regarding hot foods in summer and cold foods in winter, it seemed very similar. My father-in-law hasn’t taken his preferences that far, as of yet anyway, but the premise seems about the same. My father-in-law is a black belt in Tae Kwon Do, and now I can’t help but wonder if he didn’t get his current beliefs from Eastern philosophy.
He’s going to be visiting this weekend, so I’m going to make sure to ask him.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to go prepare some room-temperature foods and drinks for his arrival. He may not be crazy after all.
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