It was time to roll. Instructor turned on music.
And I started dancing.
Typically, for this to happen, I have to be very comfortable with the people around me. So me dancing at Jiu-Jitsu… What the heck was that?!
For starters, it was, at best, some weird kick thing reminiscent of Elaine from Seinfeld.
Thoughtful One arrived after me, and since I saw him coming, I grabbed his card from the box when I grabbed mine. His card was full save a few Fight Simulation boxes on the bottom.
I handed him his card and said, “Nice and full.”
“What?” he said, tossing his card onto the bench in a manner that made me think, “Ooookay.”
“Your card. It’s practically full.”
“Oh.” He relaxed. “I thought you were commenting on my stomach. I appreciate the honesty, but…”
I laughed. “Yeah, man, big breakfast or something?”
I would never be rude to any of these people, if not for self-preservation, for basic human decency, and because none of them give reason for rudeness.
~~~
When the gym had a Christmas party, I brought my son so he could play with the Little Instructors again like on our two park days. Thoughtful One brought his wife and, after introducing me to her, added, “She’s a novelist.”
My Jiu-Jitsu instructor loves the oranges from our tree. Once I was holding a bag of them when I came in for class. “Hi, Ilsa,” he greeted me.
“Hi,” I replied cheerfully, as one does and then usually moves on. But he held his ground, looking at me with a big smile. Okay, weird, I thought.
Then he said, “Who are the oranges for?”
“Oh! You, of course.” I had figured that was a given, but he later told me he was excited, so he wanted to be sure. Ha!
I typically deliver oranges in an empty tortilla bag. Once I confused Mrs. Instructor when her husband brought home a box of crackers that was actually full of oranges. Another time, I finally emptied the last of my protein powder that had expired months prior (so much for bulking up), and thought the container too nice to toss. But what could I use it for?
Oranges, of course!
Then there was that whole trench coat incident. Mrs. Instructor had called me an orange dealer, so I said I should bring in oranges under a trench coat.
The class started, as usual, with Mrs. Instructor and me partnering together. Also, as usual, we struggled to remember the moves. I’m generally inclined to watch other groups and try to figure it out from them, but Mrs. Instructor is, for some strange reason, NOT afraid of the instructor, as though she’s perfectly comfortable with him or something.
“I’m raising my hand,” she said.
Fiiiiinnneee.
Instructor joined us, but then Surfer Dude (SD) arrived, so Instructor helped his wife and assigned SD to me. That was all good.
Then Instructor introduced our next move, a “bear roll.”
You reach one hand through the other person’s knees, the other hand under their back, grab their wrist with both hands, get a strong stance, bend, lift, flip. Voila!
I looked at SD with one eyebrow raised.
Who am I kidding? I never thought that.
Anyway, heading home one day, passing the house on the corner, which I pass every time I leave or come home, a guy walking toward the front door half turned to look my way as I drove by.
Whoa, I thought. That guy looks a lot like the guitarist from Surfer Dude and Blue Belt’s band.
Nah, couldn’t be.
But then… right build, right height, right hair, right half of face I saw as he turned (actually it was the left side), though I was across the street and driving by quickly…
His bandmates call him “Subie” because he drives a Subaru, and I have admired that beautiful blue car in the driveway every time I see it, even once thinking, “Hey, a Subaru, like Subie.”
The similarities were enough for me to reach out to Blue Belt as soon as I pulled into my driveway.
Since Tess’s departure to the other side of the country, I’ve had a running gag going in our JJ Ladies text group, frequently implying that Tess will be present at whatever get-together we plan.
I’ll say things like, “Tess, when does your flight arrive? I’ll pick you up.”
I used it recently when trying to plan a karaoke night. When we moved the date, I wrote: “Tess, I hope you can avoid a change of flight fee.”
Then it was, “Who wants to join Tess and me at karaoke?”
This made Tess laugh and “Pink” say, “I love how you keep sneaking Tess in there.”
Karaoke night never came to fruition, but that didn’t stop me from having a little fun.
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:
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…
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.
Writing and Martial Arts 