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:
I discovered this in my drafts folder from August.
The below is from July 3, and it took about a year to scroll to find it. Apparently Mrs. Instructor and I chat a lot. Mine is the writing in purple.
More recently, I wrote to her, “Uncontrollable loud sustained laughter during a wall drill with Instructor. Super embarrassing.”
Her: What happened?
Me: I don’t know! I just couldn’t stop!
Her: lol
Me another day:
My oldest daughter is a last-minute, make it in the nick of time, always in a rush due to poor planning, sort of person.
I hate when my kids take after me.
I was driving her to work. A typical ride with Mom turns into a gripping the sides of your seat frenetic adventure.
But not this morning.
When Sensei mentioned he was going to Singapore for work, I responded:
Ha. Yeah right. Crazy. Buuuutttt…
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.
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…
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.”
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!”
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.
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.
Writing and Martial Arts 