“Time to hang up your gi,” they said.

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Here’s a little recap in case you need it: If all had gone according to plan, I would have gotten my red belt in Taekwondo with my three daughters at the beginning of April. Instead, thanks to that Jiu-Jitsu injury that kept me from walking for 3.5 months, I got behind and was only able to test for brown in April.

Then, because of my “expert” negotiation skills, I “convinced” Sensei to let me test early for red and get caught back up to my girls. All would be right in the world again. I was fully back on my feet, slated to test for my red belt May 1. But on April 29, exactly nine months after my foot/ankle injury, I busted my knee.

Some of those who saw me on crutches YET AGAIN so soon said, “Man, maybe it’s time for Betsy to quit martial arts.”

I did not consider that an option.

Though I wasn’t able to catch up, I was at last(!) able to test for red this past week, which included some board breaks.

Sadly, the moment of impact wasn’t captured, but here’s the immediate aftermath of me breaking that board with a palmheel strike.

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Sleepless in Seattle (but not really. I slept.)

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Sleepless in Seattle (but not really. I slept.)

Wynne Leon and I had been talking about me visiting her for years. Then in May, inspiration struck while doing the most meditative, higher-plane of all tasks: laundry. The first week of July–no Taekwondo, off work for the holiday, relatives in town to keep an eye on our kids… Could we make it happen in two months? I spoke with all the affected parties, and we could!

Hubs and I booked our tickets.

“I’m on a plane. I can’t complain.” [You with me on those lyrics, M?]

I let Wynne know we were officially on our way with this picture. She and I had been counting down the days, somewhat incredulous that this was ACTUALLY happening.

We took the two hour, 41-minute flight (just long enough for me to cry my way through A Man Called Otto, highly recommend) up the coast on July 4. From Sea/Tac airport we took the light rail train. I once again let Wynne know of our progress.

“I’m on a train. I can’t complain.” (It still works.)

And then, because every new experience is a delight for me, I got permission to take a picture of our Lyft driver. It was my first Lyft, okay?!

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A Battle Mage is not a weapon

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A Battle Mage is not a weapon

Where I live, microbreweries are more ubiquitous than Starbucks. So, when checking a map for a fun new place to try, I was drawn to one called Battle Mage.

I mean. It’s CALLED Battle Mage!!! Need I say more?

My friend sort of gets it.

I looked at pictures on-line and saw a similar picture to this, adding to my illusion that a battle mage was a Viking or Medieval weapon:

Can’t you see a huge hairy dude running into a fight wielding this puppy? But full-size? And also not a puppy because that would be horrible?

It wasn’t until shortly before our visit that it occurred to me, “Wait. Is this actually a Dungeons and Dragons thing?”

Oh, my friends, it was. It so very, very much was.

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Worth a thousand words

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Cool silvery tree. Can you spot the moon?
When you and your coworker are so in tune you send essentially the same gif at the same time.

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Now the shoe is on the other foot.

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Now the shoe is on the other foot.

Trigger warning: I’m about to talk about another injury. If you’ve experienced Betsy Injury Trauma, you may want to move along.

But, for a delightful change of pace, I didn’t damage my left foot. Not even a foot!

This time it was my right knee. I dropped a larger-than-me human on top of it.

At the end of my women’s self defense class (the irony), one woman asked if I could go off-curriculum and show them how to throw someone over one’s back. No problem, but I didn’t stop to think that she was much heavier than I.

She landed on my leg, which elicited an audible “crack.”

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Another belt, another ceremony, another baking adventure

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Another belt, another ceremony, another baking adventure

But first, the test. As always, I messed a couple things up because testing makes me nervous, but I recovered quickly and my flubs may have gone unnoticed. Also, I got to do this:

That board was one piece until it met my elbow.

My daughter videoed this for me. I sent it to my mom and then to Sensei noting that I wasn’t too old to proudly show my mommy my board break. He responded:

And so, another belt for my rack. I had blue, my favorite color, the longest, and I’ll have that boring brown the shortest.

The girls’ red belts are beautiful. Hopefully I’ll get mine soon. That test requires kicking a board, so… yeah. Hopefully I don’t injure my good foot. But also, whatever. At this point, I no longer care.

I just hope the board doesn’t look like this:

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From snowballs to softballs

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From snowballs to softballs

Last Friday, when Hubby and I attended a gig for that local band I’m fond of, I spotted someone who maybe sort of looked familiar.

“Do you see that man over there in the white jacket?” I asked Hubby. “Is that the guy I had the snowball fight with?”

Hubby wasn’t sure, but he knew who I meant. For my birthday two years ago, I booked the band at a brewery where I was friends with the bartender. I had gotten permission from him to bring 150 fake snowballs. One man in attendance that night was particularly into the ensuing fight, especially when it came to throwing snowballs at me.

The crazy dude on the left. On the right is the woman who kindly took it in stride when I accidentally hit her several times while aiming at my chief adversary next to her. Crazy chic in the center: me.

“Should I ask if it’s him?” I said to Hubby.

“If you want,” he said, not nearly as perplexed by this mystery as I was.

But how to broach the subject with this possible total stranger? “Did I have an epic snowball battle with you nearly two years ago?” Or perhaps I would start slower: “Have you heard this band play before? Do you remember a time they played and there was a snowball fight?”

Without fully figuring out my approach, but curiosity getting the better of me, I announced, “I’m going to go find out.”

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Meeting two blog buddies in two days.

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Meeting two blog buddies in two days.

I’ve been Blog-AWOL (BAWOL?) for several weeks. First, I was prepping for a trip, then on a trip, then recovering from the build-up of work post-trip, then I got sick.

I’m nearly recovered from all of that, so let me give you the highlights, primarily, meeting two Blog Buddies!

I’ll start with Bijoux. The funny thing, as she noted too, is that in a recent post I asked people if they have or would meet Blog Buddies in real life. She said she hadn’t, but knowing we were from the same area, if I were to come home for a visit, she would like to meet me. Little did we know at that time…

Left: me. Right: Bijoux

I left a comment on her blog letting her know I was in the area. Any chance she could meet, say… Thursday morning? It worked out perfectly that she could! And not only was she nearby, she lives in the town next door to the one I grew up in!

We met at a cute cafe on the border of our towns. My mom and sister joined us. My sister then proceeded to scandalize her with all manner of stories, and yet Bijoux still hung around. What a great lady! (I was honestly worried for her.) I’m so proud to have been her first Blog Buddy meet-up. It was a great pleasure to meet her!

The other BB lived much farther away and required more forethought and planning.

I finally had an opportunity to meet potentially/probably my longest running Blog Buddy, one whose recent retiring from the blog community made me cry. That is…

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Negotiating like a Voss

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I’m a big fan of the book, Never Split the Difference, by former FBI hostage negotiator, Chris Voss. I geared up to put his principles into practice: I was going to ask Sensei to let me catch up to my girls in Tae Kwon Do, despite my four-month absence and his seemingly strict testing rules.

Asking him to deviate from a system he’s been using for two decades for my sake was a big ask.

I planned my approach. I would start with a “no” question a la Voss, ie: “Would it be impossible for me to get caught up to my girls?”

The idea is, with that wording, he’d likely say, “No,” which is what I wanted.

Never Split the Difference, by negotiation-master Chris Voss

I had four points, Sensei’s possible counter-points, and my counter to those counters all ready to go, practicing them in my head for several days in advance.

When the night in question came, I prepped my girls to go directly to the van after class, so I could talk to Sensei alone.

My nerves ran high as Sensei and I meandered to the parking lot. I listened patiently as he talked about his parkour gym, finding people to video his jumps so he could analyze his technique, taking videos for others for the same reason, the open gym policy, the hours, the classes, exactly where the gym was located, that it might be near that one rock climbing gym…

Finally, he wound himself down. My heart pounding, I steadied and readied myself for the attack.

“So,” I began. “Do you think it would be possible for me to catch up with my girls?”

Darn it! That was not the “No” answer question I had so carefully prepped!

He responded immediately.

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You never know, so just, be cool.

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I was running late to meet a friend at her house so we could drive together to some event. Her neighborhood has several speed bumps, and I had the misfortune of being behind someone who was taking each bump at 1 mph. I’ve never claimed to be patient. I will claim to always be cutting it fine when it comes to being somewhere on time. So this added slow-down was extra frustrating.

The car in front of me, probably sensing my irritation, (I suppose I was following too closely) eventually pulled over so I could drive past. I shot a glance at the driver, a dude in his 30s or 40s.

from Rodrigo on Pexels

I told my friend about it, when I eventually made it to her house. “Wasn’t that so weird and annoying?” I asked her.

“He was probably delivering a cake,” she said.

Just like that, my indignation was brought up short. “You think?”

“My mom made and delivered cakes. Sometimes I’d go with her and she always had to be extra cautious over speed bumps.”

And so what a jerk I was, being irritated by some guy who gave me a look as I passed that basically said, “Could you just ease up already?”

Maybe he wasn’t delivering a cake, (then again, maybe he was) but regardless, he undoubtedly had good reason for driving so slowly. Maybe a sick kid in the back?

My friend’s statement made me realize how much easier it is to understand people’s actions, and forgive them, when you’ve been in their position too.

But even if you don’t “get it” from your own personal experience, it’s always best to be patient and kind. You never know what people are dealing with.

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