I'm back at kung fu at the YMCA dojo. I know it's exciting to dream of a brilliant Lord Voldemort-y nemesis because it challenges you and all that, but I have a few hypermobile vertebrae. So I'm training for a nemesis likely to hoist himself on his own petard. My sensai told me if I don't want to take the throws, I can be excused.
Nonetheless, she invited me to the class Bar-B-Que this afternoon at her house. This kind of lifestyle - hard drinking, hand-to-hand combat, Benadril - takes its toll on your body. The antihistamine only came into play because about 10:30am, a yellow jacket infiltrated my sweatshirt and stung me seven times about the neck and shoulder region. It was harrowing. But I'm white belt tough. I grabbed the yellow jacket in between my bare fingers and squashed it like a bug.
My sensai lives next to an illegal daycare. They put a trampoline out in the mini-yard and let the kids jump on it from the roof. Keeps 'em occupied for hours. Although at least once, my sensai has had her quiet afternoon on the patio interrupted by an incoming child.
About a year ago, the outlaw nanny neighbors put their house on the market and my sensai went over there for an under-cover walk through. In a modern twist on the warmed-over "toy chest" concept, they had hammered nails all over the walls. Floor to ceiling. And hung toys off the nails. Barbi dolls warranted two nails, one under each armpit. A plastic lawn mower dangled over the stairwell making it very difficult to circumvent the landing.
The house never sold. Obviously the neighbors never watch HGTV "Designed to Sell." They'd have known about the universal allure of neutral colors. They'd have painted all the toys beige.