When Sensei mentioned he was going to Singapore for work, I responded:
Ha. Yeah right. Crazy. Buuuutttt…
Nov3
The world has turned upside down
Author Archives: Ilsa Rey
Oct31
Wake me up when September ends. -Green Day
I could also call this “My birthday month, Part 2… No, really!”
Yes, I know it’s nearly November. I’m behind at life. Also, I must clear Mrs. Instructor’s name by stating that she was in no way demanding I post my stories about her. Unlike her predecessors, Chex Mix Guy and Sensei, she has not become an attention monster. You know who else hasn’t? Surfer Dude. He knows full well about this blog and has never, to my knowledge, checked out what I’ve written about him. Wouldn’t you think he’d at least be curious? Amazing.
Okay. On with the pics, etc.
When we last saw our intrepid heroes, Heather, Neighbor, and Ilsa planned a coffee date do-over, this time at a joint called Archer’s Arrow, totally chosen by me for the name alone.
Oct22
Alright, alright, already!
I received this message a little bit ago:
First of all, aren’t you a subscriber so you get notified when there IS something here and don’t need to keep checking? (Take note, all of you.)
Second, I’ve been swamped with work and authorly stuff, like bio, acknowledgements, finding other authors to write blurbs, etc. [Check, check, and check, but those were the easy items.]
Third, this means I’ve been ignoring all other blogs, and I feel guilty when I post here but don’t visit others.
But the above message is what I get for telling Mrs. Instructor I had a post waiting in the wings called “The One About Mrs. Instructor.” Some people just love seeing their name in lights blogs. So, without further ado…
Oct9
The birth of Ilsa Rey
I know I’m supposed to do My Birthday Month, Part 2, but something came up.
Months ago, I was chatting with one of my favorite thought-provoking blog buddies, Endless Weekend, about the novel I was working on and what author name I might use should this project come to fruition.
I was considering using a pseudonym to distinguish my fiction from my three non-fiction books. Today, I confirmed that decision with a little thought, a little prayer, and a coin toss. (Best way to make all major life decisions, really. My husband would still be single if not for me flipping heads. Kidding, kidding.)
Endless Weekend helpfully sent me a link to every derivation of my name used throughout the world. I sloughed through a TON of names, nearly giving up before sitting up straight at the sight of “Ilsa.”
Oct2
My birthday month, part 1
On September 6, Hubby and I drove 45 minutes to see a Pearl Jam cover band we’d seen once before on what was one of the best nights of my life. Their set was shorter this time, so only slightly less awesome.
They had an opener–a cover band for Creed. I only knew half the songs, but I loved those songs. Also, the singer performed on this small stage as though in front of a massive audience. He was so thrilled by the dozen or so people gathered on the dance floor in front of him.
It was charming. A little sad. But still charming. I was pleased he walked by me later so I could tell him he had done a fantastic job, because he really had.
A woman dancing off to the side made me think, “I wish I was as uninhibited as that cool chic.” Then she turned around and I thought, “Oh! Grandma!”
Sep24
Meh.
Warning: I chronicle my Jiu-Jitsu Journey here. This is a low moment post. If you’re not in the mood to be brought down, just skip to the end.
I wasn’t in the best frame of mind when I arrived for Jiu-Jitsu. Because of other life stressors, my normal place of refuge has lost its euphoria. But I’m trying to push through.
I showed up for a mini-Reflex Development class, where Master Cycle students are encouraged to help the Combatives students. Instructor seemed glad I was there and eager for me to assist him in demonstrating the moves.
Sep10
And they’re back!
Okay, friends. After lulling you into a false sense of security with posts related to baking, beeping, and random food pics, I’m bringing Jiu-Jitsu back in force! (I just heard Mrs. Instructor quietly say, “Yay.”)
In a recent class, Instructor used the Combatives Belt Kid (CBK) as his demo partner. I thought of telling CBK later, “Hey, man, good for you. What an honor.”
But in last night’s class, Instructor used me as his demo partner, so I now realize it’s a matter of who’s sitting closest or randomly makes eye contact, rather than a matter of skill. [Note to self: Sit far away and avoid eye contact as though Instructor is Kaa from The Jungle Book or the basilisk from Harry Potter.]
Being demo partner in Master Cycle is frightening. Thankfully, the moves here are sort of a crap shoot. Some are ridiculously complicated, but a lot are really quite simple when you get down to it.
Sep5
This is beyond ridiculous. Time to unload some pics.
I found this image in my Picture File of Doom, aka that vast netherscape of random pics I’ve dumped into a folder for potential blog usage. I need to put on my flashlight hard hat every now and then and mine that puppy for gems. This one would’ve been perfect for the last post.
Aug28
So this is what it means to be a hot mess
My daughter had a high school retreat. I signed the permission slip and paid the fee. She packed her backpack and grabbed her sleeping bag from the closet.
An hour before we left, I felt very proud of myself for suggesting we double check her items with the packing list–well in advance of leaving, mind you. (Seriously, I was like, Go me!)
Pajamas–check
Shower shoes–check
Socks and hiking shoes–check check
Everything was going great. Then I got to the bottom of the list:
Aug23
Because I am clearly a paragon of femininity…
Fellow Jiu-Jitsu student “The Dad” and I often talk cars, fight scenes, and action movies in general.
This all started years ago when I was driving from Taekwondo to Jiu-Jitsu and noticed a cool old car on the road.
“Ooooh,” I thought because, you know, super girlie.
So imagine my delight when the observed vehicle pulled into the parking lot ahead of me.
“I must see who is driving that.” (Internal dialog. Not yet so crazy as to talk to myself–out loud anyway.)
Relieved to see it was a fellow student, I got the scoop from The Dad on this glorious ’67 Chevy Impala.
Writing and Martial Arts 