Category Archives: Surfer Dude

It’s been far too long since I’ve given you…

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It’s been far too long since I’ve given you…

Surfer Dude stories! (I can hear your applause from here.)

Instructor and HRH were on a family camping trip one Saturday morning, so Surfer Dude (SD) taught Jiu-Jitsu. Toward the end, Smiley Guy asked SD what to do if someone gets their head out from under your leg (#onlyinJiuJitsu). SD showed it once, but class was over, so we didn’t practice that.

Rolling time, and I was with SD. At one point, he pushed my leg off from over his head, so I immediately pressed his chest back down with my other thigh, as he’d just shown.

“Oh-ho!” he said, eyebrows raised.

Later, I was standing, pondering how to get past his legs as he was in what I’ll call dead-bug position. Suddenly, his face brightened (uh-oh), he sat up, and pushed me over backward.

“Hey! That’s cheating,” I said. We both laughed. The timer rang, and he fist bumped me. “Good job,” he said.

I was practicing another day with SD when he said something along the lines of, “You can’t keep a good man down.”

“Oh, so since you just got out from the bottom of my side mount, you’re a good man, huh?” I said.

“I didn’t even think of that. You’re the one who made the connection.”

“Oooh, look at me. I’m Surfer Dude. I’m so great,” I said in my most obnoxious voice.

“Is that what I sound like in your head?”

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Ich wünschte ich wäre hier

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Ich wünschte ich wäre hier

I could also say: Ojalá estuviera aquí.

And soon it will be: [whatever “Wish I Was Here” is in French].

The publisher asked authors if they’d like their Kindle e-books translated into German and Spanish.

“Sure!” I said. “Why not?”

“They’ll be up within 72 hours,” was the response.

Clearly, that means they’re AI-generated. I hope the robots did a good job. Not that humans can’t make mistakes, of course. In fact, as well-refined as AI has become, maybe it did a better job than a human could. Still, some carbon-based life form proofreading after the fact would probably be prudent. I’d like to say I could do it, but…

Conozco ein bisschen Español y Deutsch pero nein Français. And certainly not enough of the first two to be a decent judge.

If anyone wants to 1) test their foreign language knowledge, 2) help out a blog buddy, and 3) enjoy a good book, especially as a fun summer read, try Wish I Was Here in the lingua of your choice! [Click/tap See all languages and editions then choose a language from the drop-down menu. It’s only $6 or free if you have Kindle Unlimited. Yes, I have an affiliate link, FWIW.]

Other ways my book goes international

The Travel Architect emailed me a pic of my book on her lap at the airport as she awaited a flight to Copenhagen.

“Oooh! Send me a pic of it at cool places,” I requested.

A couple of days later, I received an email titled Malmo City Library, Sweden.

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About my first class back

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About my first class back

Going back to New Year’s Eve when the decision was made for me to return to Jiu-Jitsu, Hubby said, “I hope you’ll be able to sleep tonight.” I laughed.

But he was right.

It was the same the next night, too. The night after that was the one before my first class. I drugged myself, and Hubby volunteered to sleep on the couch to give me the best chance at restful sleep.

What a guy!

When I woke up for the 8:30 class, coffee and some leftover Christmas limoncello Panettone were ready for me. (Again, what a guy!)

Eyes baggy and looking like a trash can that had been knocked over, rained on overnight, and even passed over by a hungry raccoon, I was on my way!

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Getting razzed in class

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Getting razzed in class

My Jiu-Jitsu instructor came over to help when I was attempting to do a move with Hip Rad Heroine (Mark’s HRH guess). Instructor said something then, “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

“What? No!” I said, horrified. “I just looked at her and then back at you.”

“Sheesh. The attitude on this one,” he said with an expression of wild disbelief.

At first I was mortified. Then I realized he was messing with me.

Another time, Instructor was heel hooking my good ankle–the one not wearing a protective sleeve.

Wrapped ankle on left in a blue shoe. On the right, pink shoe. I took this when I stepped out of the car in the Walmart parking lot. Leave it to me to wear mismatched shoes. I laughed then thought, “Well, this is Walmart. I’ll fit right in.”

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