Y’all remember how I used to frequently find zucchini on my windshield after Taekwondo? There was also that one library incident.
Since I don’t see Sensei any more, the zucchini well has dried.
Or has it?
One of the first things Janis at Retirementally Challenged said to me when we finally met up (we’re in the same county for goodness sake!) was, “Why have you lost your blogging mojo?”
Funny she should ask. On the drive down, Hubby and I had been discussing the issue: namely, I was ashamed to admit that I hadn’t returned to Jiu-Jitsu after breaking my foot in May. How could I tell you all? How would I explain? Did I really want to publicly admit the dream was over?
It didn’t help that Andrea commented on one of my posts, essentially, “Yeah, yeah, great about the book stuff, but where are the Jiu-Jitsu stories?!” I’m paraphrasing slightly.
I also felt guilt-ridden when I came across Jacqui’s comment about me to someone else on her blog:
Like all great stories, this one begins and ends with zucchini.
Here’s what happened.
As planned, I made [read: commissioned Baking Daughter to make] muffins with the zucchini from the Senseis’ bounteous garden. I showed Sensei:
Sensei said, “Want to make a trade??? You need raw materials, I need finished goods.”
Cover me.
I’m going under cover.
Cover your mouth when you sneeze?
Okay, fine. I was trying to be unique and not do the standard announcement, but…
Actually, I am well. I just wanted to use that title.
What’s most occupying me these days is a two-week girls’ self defense camp I’m teaching at my kids’ school. I’m halfway through and loving it. The girls are so attentive and into it. One girl showed up on day one looking the picture of, “I don’t want to be here, but my mom is making me do this.” However, she perked up quickly and was smiling throughout class. Win!
One of my daughters is helping me and is a dynamo. “I really like martial arts,” she said, and it shows.
One day we did Taekwondo kicks. Not in a position to be doing those myself, I spoke, Daughter demonstrated. Then, feeling nostalgic, she stood on one leg and threw kicks of different sorts in all directions. One student said, “Go, Elise!” And we clapped. Whichever girl she partners with I can ignore because I know Elise will help her with the moves as needed, leaving me to watch over the others.
She’s also multi-talented. For July 4th, she made mini cupcakes. Starting with white cake batter, she divided it into three bowls and put red and blue food coloring into each of the two other bowls. So, not only were the cupcakes striped red, white, and blue (and delicious), she used tweezers (washed first!) to painstakingly embellish the frosting with tiny sprinkles.
The email from the publisher began:
“We have now begun the production cycle for your book, Wish I Was Here. Your submitted final manuscript has been professionally formatted into a custom PDF bookblock and attached here for your review.”
I had been texting with a coworker when this email popped up, prompting me to hastily exit that conversation and clock out of my day job.
The cover was also attached. Naturally, I began there. Oh, how I wish I could show you the cover, but it’s still a work in progress. When I saw it, I didn’t hate it. But I didn’t love it.
I sent it to my Faithful Few for feedback. (Isn’t it wonderful when alliteration happens naturally?) I got varied responses:
First, I got reprimanded for inadvertently insulting Balloon Man. When I lifted my head to explain, Instructor pushed it back down, silently saying, “Stop talking; do the move.” But at least, from what I glimpsed, Balloon Man did not appear insulted.
Nevertheless, I needed to keep mentally changing the subject afterward because being reprimanded by Instructor, which has happened three times now, makes me want to cry. I hate disappointing him.
Then it was roll time, and Instructor and Balloon Man sat right next to Money and me. I can barely function when I know he’s watching. I even said, “Do you really have to sit right there watching?”
“Just roll,” he said.
Thoughtful One arrived after me, and since I saw him coming, I grabbed his card from the box when I grabbed mine. His card was full save a few Fight Simulation boxes on the bottom.
I handed him his card and said, “Nice and full.”
“What?” he said, tossing his card onto the bench in a manner that made me think, “Ooookay.”
“Your card. It’s practically full.”
“Oh.” He relaxed. “I thought you were commenting on my stomach. I appreciate the honesty, but…”
I laughed. “Yeah, man, big breakfast or something?”
I would never be rude to any of these people, if not for self-preservation, for basic human decency, and because none of them give reason for rudeness.
~~~
When the gym had a Christmas party, I brought my son so he could play with the Little Instructors again like on our two park days. Thoughtful One brought his wife and, after introducing me to her, added, “She’s a novelist.”
The class started, as usual, with Mrs. Instructor and me partnering together. Also, as usual, we struggled to remember the moves. I’m generally inclined to watch other groups and try to figure it out from them, but Mrs. Instructor is, for some strange reason, NOT afraid of the instructor, as though she’s perfectly comfortable with him or something.
“I’m raising my hand,” she said.
Fiiiiinnneee.
Instructor joined us, but then Surfer Dude (SD) arrived, so Instructor helped his wife and assigned SD to me. That was all good.
Then Instructor introduced our next move, a “bear roll.”
You reach one hand through the other person’s knees, the other hand under their back, grab their wrist with both hands, get a strong stance, bend, lift, flip. Voila!
I looked at SD with one eyebrow raised.
Here are some follow-ups to previous posts.
After the one about Mrs. Instructor, she let me know she hasn’t subscribed to my blog because
Awwwhhhh… My very own stalker. Just what I always wanted.
After my Sensei goes to Singapore post, (dang, I should’ve called it that!) Ju-Lyn and I were talking about the visit. I wrote:
Writing and Martial Arts 