Today we played in the sunshine. The same sunshine that has hid itself from our little farm for what feels like a year.
Today we went to Sonic for lunch. I love, love, love the ice at Sonic. The ice makes me and my Dr. Pepper extra happy. I know it's silly but that's just the way it is.
Today we went to "big" town to pick up my broken sewing machine. Again. As in, we were there yesterday to pick up said machine and pay big bucks to have said machine in working order. The sewing repair man must have thought I was dumb. The stitch sample was skipping stitches left and right. The man told me that was the way it was supposed to look. Really dude? Grr...
Today I am going to let out my frustrations at Tae Kwon Do.
Today I am happy for library interweb.
Showing posts with label Tae Kwon Do. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tae Kwon Do. Show all posts
Typing left handedly
In the immortal words of Shaggy
"Like yowza, Scoob!"
Yowza was the most mild of terms, used by me, as I broke boards (and quite possibly my hand) at Tae Kwon Do class last week. Hence the one handed typing. UGH! The agony. The bruising, ego included. The big ugly wrist brace is quite a hindrance to well, say any task requiring the use my right hand and arm really. I look pretty funny twisting my whole body around all wonky-like just so I can use a fork. Yeah, I know what was I thinking? I was thinking I could totally break that board and I did break it, on the first try too. However, I was not thinking about my Fibromyalgia or that fact that I am in my thirties and out of shape...nuff said.
So, while I sit around waiting for my hand to heal, know that I am dreaming of the good ole blogging days when I actually could (even though I didn't) blog and the day when I can whip out a great blog and not have it take me an hour to type it out one handed.
"Like yowza, Scoob!"
Yowza was the most mild of terms, used by me, as I broke boards (and quite possibly my hand) at Tae Kwon Do class last week. Hence the one handed typing. UGH! The agony. The bruising, ego included. The big ugly wrist brace is quite a hindrance to well, say any task requiring the use my right hand and arm really. I look pretty funny twisting my whole body around all wonky-like just so I can use a fork. Yeah, I know what was I thinking? I was thinking I could totally break that board and I did break it, on the first try too. However, I was not thinking about my Fibromyalgia or that fact that I am in my thirties and out of shape...nuff said.
So, while I sit around waiting for my hand to heal, know that I am dreaming of the good ole blogging days when I actually could (even though I didn't) blog and the day when I can whip out a great blog and not have it take me an hour to type it out one handed.
News
Well, well.
I am on my way to being a Black Belt.
Today I sit here a proud Camo Belted Martial Artist. I am still figuring out what that means in real life. For now, it means my muscles are so sore I can hardly type without pain. Mentally though, I am totally charged. My son's tutor says that becoming a Black Belt is all about attitude; an attitude you wear without the belt. Frankly my attitude lately has sucked. I didn't want to practice Tae Kwon Do. I didn't want to go to class. I didn't want to dress all four children and myself in our head to toe WHITE (hello people, I live in monsoon country) uniforms. I didn't want to scrub multiple mud stains out of said uniforms. Ugh, and the ironing! Nuff said.
I was so nervous about taking the Camo test yesterday. I am not a competitor. I had to really dig deep. I was sure I was going to fail. Mentally I was all over the place. I couldn't find my focus.
Then I made myself some Chamomile tea and thought of my friend Miriam giving it her all in Yoga class yesterday. Then I got a little bit of a spark....well, if she can do yoga with a broken hip, then I can do my freaking Tae Kwon Do. My hip isn't broken, but my attitude was surely busted.
Maybe I am a little competitive. That was all I needed to force me to action. The nervousness fell away and I performed better than I have in months. It felt amazing. Still feels amazing.
Everyone else did a fabulous job as well. Hubby passed his belt. He is sporting a shiny new Yellow Belt. My two youngest moved up to Yellow as well. Quote from Fidget: Wow, this new yellow headband looks really good on me. (That's my girl) Fern, jump-front-kicked some major booty and is a Camo Belted wonder. And the oldest man child faced the hardest test; being the only student in our class asked to repeat his form. I almost jumped out of my skin. I had to repress thoughts of throttling the judges. They were asking a lot of my, MY, baby. I was still holding my final position-standing like a statue not allowed to move-I couldn't turn my head to see how my son took this challenge. I was dying inside. I started to shake. I could hear the snap of Headstrong's uniform and the sound of his footfalls on the hardwood. As it turned out, Headstrong was overtaken with nerves. He did not pass fully to the next level. He would be a recommended Camo Belt. He gave it good effort but he did not demonstrate the sparkle the judges were looking for, however, he did show amazing Black Belt attitude. He stood with honor while he shook the judge's hands. He made his mama proud.
It really was only last week that Headstrong was a babe in my arms. Today he is a young man, taking the world in stride.
Let me just pause here to sob uncontrollably and wallow in self pity.
And feel old for a minute.
I am going to wager it will only be another month before this guy is off breaking little girl's hearts, as well as his mothers.
Over the weekend we hosted our farmy neighbors for a faux Oscar Party. Who needs celebrity foo-fa-rah when you can make your own? Neither of our families have local television so, we rented The Godfather (High School Musical 3 for the kids), dressed in our Oscar best, feasted on Les Schwab (Les Schwab's is a tire store that gives out "Free Beef" when you buy new tires, thank you "Free Beef" days) steaks and made foofy drinks for all; Shirley Temple's for the kids, Martini's and Lemon Drops for the adults. All told, it was a Fab'o evening. Defiantly a new tradition.
The road to Black Belt status surely must be paved with aching muscles, laundry, broken hearts, changing attitudes, party dresses and friendship. And children that grow up far too quickly.
I am on my way to being a Black Belt.
Today I sit here a proud Camo Belted Martial Artist. I am still figuring out what that means in real life. For now, it means my muscles are so sore I can hardly type without pain. Mentally though, I am totally charged. My son's tutor says that becoming a Black Belt is all about attitude; an attitude you wear without the belt. Frankly my attitude lately has sucked. I didn't want to practice Tae Kwon Do. I didn't want to go to class. I didn't want to dress all four children and myself in our head to toe WHITE (hello people, I live in monsoon country) uniforms. I didn't want to scrub multiple mud stains out of said uniforms. Ugh, and the ironing! Nuff said.
I was so nervous about taking the Camo test yesterday. I am not a competitor. I had to really dig deep. I was sure I was going to fail. Mentally I was all over the place. I couldn't find my focus.
Then I made myself some Chamomile tea and thought of my friend Miriam giving it her all in Yoga class yesterday. Then I got a little bit of a spark....well, if she can do yoga with a broken hip, then I can do my freaking Tae Kwon Do. My hip isn't broken, but my attitude was surely busted.
Maybe I am a little competitive. That was all I needed to force me to action. The nervousness fell away and I performed better than I have in months. It felt amazing. Still feels amazing.
Everyone else did a fabulous job as well. Hubby passed his belt. He is sporting a shiny new Yellow Belt. My two youngest moved up to Yellow as well. Quote from Fidget: Wow, this new yellow headband looks really good on me. (That's my girl) Fern, jump-front-kicked some major booty and is a Camo Belted wonder. And the oldest man child faced the hardest test; being the only student in our class asked to repeat his form. I almost jumped out of my skin. I had to repress thoughts of throttling the judges. They were asking a lot of my, MY, baby. I was still holding my final position-standing like a statue not allowed to move-I couldn't turn my head to see how my son took this challenge. I was dying inside. I started to shake. I could hear the snap of Headstrong's uniform and the sound of his footfalls on the hardwood. As it turned out, Headstrong was overtaken with nerves. He did not pass fully to the next level. He would be a recommended Camo Belt. He gave it good effort but he did not demonstrate the sparkle the judges were looking for, however, he did show amazing Black Belt attitude. He stood with honor while he shook the judge's hands. He made his mama proud.
It really was only last week that Headstrong was a babe in my arms. Today he is a young man, taking the world in stride.
Let me just pause here to sob uncontrollably and wallow in self pity.
And feel old for a minute.
I am going to wager it will only be another month before this guy is off breaking little girl's hearts, as well as his mothers.
Over the weekend we hosted our farmy neighbors for a faux Oscar Party. Who needs celebrity foo-fa-rah when you can make your own? Neither of our families have local television so, we rented The Godfather (High School Musical 3 for the kids), dressed in our Oscar best, feasted on Les Schwab (Les Schwab's is a tire store that gives out "Free Beef" when you buy new tires, thank you "Free Beef" days) steaks and made foofy drinks for all; Shirley Temple's for the kids, Martini's and Lemon Drops for the adults. All told, it was a Fab'o evening. Defiantly a new tradition.
*****
The road to Black Belt status surely must be paved with aching muscles, laundry, broken hearts, changing attitudes, party dresses and friendship. And children that grow up far too quickly.
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