Tag Archives: grunge

Teaching girls to kick butt and take names

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Teaching girls to kick butt and take names

This was my third year teaching a girls’ self defense summer camp. I wore a boot for my not-quite-healed broken foot, but I made it work.

The last day was a flurry of fast-paced review, interrupted briefly by what the girls called “story time” for which they gathered around me in a semi-circle.

I’d already given a speech about situational awareness and how their level of alertness should go up as the comfort of their surroundings goes down. (And for goodness sake, don’t be looking at your phone.) This time I gave them real talk about danger from non-strangers and what to do if a relative, family friend, or future coworker makes them uncomfortable.

At the end, one of them said, “That wasn’t a very fun story.” So I added, “Then you grab their head and smash your knee in their face!”

They all shouted, “Yay!”

Not even kidding. It always amuses me how stiff and quiet they are the first few days. By the end,

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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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