Hair Akimbo

My straightener broke yesterday morning, which means that my hair is akimbo. I look like an upside down pineapple. Bulbous on the top and all sticky-outy on the bottom. I have attempted to tame it with a head band but am only having marginal success. It does not help that I had nun chucks last night and I worked out this morning but worked out a little later than normal and didn't have time to wash my hair so it's akimbo and gross.

I think the wild hair look may actually work to my advantage tonight because Lindsay and I have signed up for the Upland community drum circle class. Lindsay has participated in drum circles before and loves them and I love anything that will make me laugh until I pee my pants, which I think drum circles have the potential for. I'm hoping that there are unwashed hippies so that I can blend right in.

Dogs and Cats Living Together

The Sensei started us on double nun chucks last night. So instead of hitting myself with just one pair I get to hit myself with two. Double the chance of getting a concussion. But it looks very impressive. Well, it would minus the pained expression

In other news: I'm done with these wild fires. We're surrounded by them and the smoke has blocked out the sun. Apparently these fires create their own weather system so I walked out of the apartment this morning to grayish brown skies that were sprinkling rain and ash. It's Armageddon, people. Find your can opener and head down to the bunker.

Belted!

I'm a firm believer in leading with your big news. Don't you just hate it when you've been talking to a friend for like 15 minutes about stuff like nail polish or the latest US Weekly cover and then, all casual like, she says, "I ran into Tyra Banks yesterday at Wal-Mart."

The rule is that you lead with Tyra Banks! Always give the big news first because that will give your friends and family enough time to be sufficiently impressed.

So the big news is that we got our yellow belts!!!!!!! Don't we totally look fierce?! Or dopey? Or like safety guards? They're SUPER yellow. We definitely look hot and sweaty because we spent an hour running around the dojo without air conditioning. Knights of Columbus, Upland Martial Arts Center, it's August!

Don't tell the Sensei you saw this picture because we're wearing those illegally. We're not allowed to wear the belt without the gi. But how could we not? As soon as we got out of the car we put them on. And then we stuck our nunchucks in them like the 10 year olds do. We wanted to be totally authentic.

By the way, those belts are a fat joke. They're outrageously long. I could repel out of my window with it.

In other news: I think I need to conduct a poll about ice cream cones. Colleen thinks that cake cones are the best and Stephanie is for the sugar cone and Amanda says, based strictly on size, that the waffle cone is superior. I am a cake cone girl. There is something magical about that last bite of the cone when the ice cream has pooled up in the grid at the bottom and you stick it in in your mouth and crunch down on it. I want to high five people when I do it. Plus, I feel like the cake cone isn't intrusive. A sugar cone is too crunchy and often times enormous chucks of it break off when you bite into it. And a waffle cone is too, too crunchy, and too much work. There's all this fiddling that you have to do with it. Do you eat it with a spoon or lick it? Do you eat the cone as you go or do you wait till the end? Too much to worry about, I say.

But what do you say? Cake, sugar or waffle? Or bowl? Weirdo.

Things that smell

1.) The summer heat is upon us and the dojo doesn't have air conditioning. This has only enhanced the smell of sweat, feet and 10-year-old-boy.

2.) The upstairs bathroom in our office building overflowed yesterday and soaked through the walls of the Verizon office downstairs.

If given a choice, I would go with the dojo.

I promise to not hit you with my nunchucks if you vote for me.

Finally, a picture of us in all our Nunchucking Glory! Liz and Katie are ready to block, I'm ready to strike and Heather is ready to hug.

And are those matching shirts? They sure are. We made shirts with our 9th kyu certificates on them. Rad, I know. They were a huge hit at the dojo. These are things 10-year-olds don't think to do and I'm pretty sure they were jealous.

We didn't go to class for three weeks so we had a triumphal return on Monday night. I think we were missed. The kids actually talked to us. Mostly, when we try to make conversation with the kids they shun us, but several of them actually chatted with me while we were waiting our turn for the game (Which, ahem, I won. High fives for everyone!)

***

In other news: I am currently in 5th place for this competition:



And I have made it over the 1000 votes mark. Wow! I think I owe a lot of this to Camille, who may or may not be a computer genius. But everyone else deserves an enormous thanks too. You're all the greatest. I've decided that if I get 3rd place I will hold an ice cream social to show my appreciation. You're all invited. Bring your own vanilla if you want it because I don't believe in buying the stuff.

People are more fun to hit than pool noodles

I got to spar last night at nunchucks class. This just means that instead of hitting pool noodles I got to hit people. It was way more fun than I imagined it would be. This is a slightly horrifying realization - that I like to hit people, albeit with really squishy nunchucks while wearing protective gear - but I'm sure I'll get over it.

Sure my hair would look great but would I stink?

1.) My hair has lost it's bounceability and I'm contemplating going old school (like 1900 old school) and rinsing my hair with vinegar because I hear it's a miracle worker on non-bouncy hair. But I need to first hear from people who have done this to find out a.) if it actually works and b.) will my hair smell like a pickling plant all day. Would someone else like to try this out first? I'll bake you cookies.

2.) I just read this article heralding the death of voice mail and I have to say hurrah for that. Because if there is one thing I am incredibly bad at, it is leaving voice messages. It stems from my fear of talking to people on the phone, although I prefer to leave a voice mail than to get the actual person on the line. Which should give you a pretty good idea of how bad I am on the phone. Gosh, I'm awkward. I jumble my words and I self-edit, which is great on a blog, but painful on a recording, and about 99% of the time I hang up and say, "Well, that was really dumb and embarrassing and now they won't want to be my friend anymore because I'm a moron who can't complete a sentence and I'm going to have to live in a Home for the Tragic and Friendless." The sooner it is dumped the better.*

3.) Last night Heather and I were down in the parking lot practicing our nunchuck skills and my home teacher drove by with the missionaries. Naturally, they had to get out and watch. And then one thing led to another and both the elders had the nunchucks and were beating on each other. It was the most enlightening/hilarious/horrifying thing I have seen because even though missionaries are servants of God, they are still 20 year old guys. And 20 year old guys will take any opportunity to beat each other up that comes their way. They will especially do it if given something as cool as nunchucks. This is one of the biggest differences between men and women. The girls and I just stand there and practice our moves. We would never dream of hitting each other because we know, from painful experience, that they really hurt. But the very first thing the elders did was start swinging at each other. And then they would take turns hitting each other really hard to see exactly how much it hurt. And they asked questions like, "Do you ever get to spar with each other?" (not yet but soon) and, "Have you learned how to kill a man?" (I think that's next month).

*Although it would also mean that I won't get anymore voice messages from Liz, who leaves THE BEST VOICE MESSAGES EVER. Seriously. You will laugh until you cry when you listen to them.

Promotion

"Hey, what's that over there?"

Oh, that? That's just my nunchuck certificate of promotion.

Take THAT 9th kyu! We took you DOWN TO CHINA TOWN! (Visualize me now doing a fist pump and a high kick.)(Why would you be laughing at that? Is it because my legs are 2 inches tall?)

Liz, Katie, Heather, and I all promoted last night and it was pretty awesome. We got to class and the first thing Sensei said to us was, "You know what's really good for you? Stress. YOU'RE TESTING RIGHT NOW!" Eek! Nerves! And on our first official night with wooden nunchucks even! So Sensei Sam took us aside and made us go through the 9th kyu moves individually. We've been practicing these moves for a month now and when I'm doing them down in the parking lot of Las Brisas I'm a pro nunchucker. But try doing them in front of Sensei Sam when a certificate is at stake. And a belt!

But we were great. At the end of the class we all lined up and Sensei gave us each certificates and we get our first belt next week. We actually can't wear it until we have our gi and we've all agreed to not get a gi until after we get our yellow belt (Which is next. Right now we're white belts with yellow stripes (which is really just yellow electrical tape (fancy))) but you know I will be sporting it around the house. Possibly to church. The good folks at Stater Bros. will definitely be seeing it.

When I started the class I had no idea how fun this would be. I knew that by it's very nature it would be hilarious, but learning all these new skills is really cool. After we tested, the class had a challenge, where two people would get up and perform the same move to see who could do it best. We got to see some of the higher belt moves and they are really impressive. And along with being amazed by them I thought, "I really want to do that!" Because it looks awesome and fun. And would be really impressive at a ward talent show. It's been a dream of mine to have a talent show talent. And now I have one and a certificate to prove it.

Pain is my future

For the last 6 weeks of nunchuck class we have been using foam ones (and here is where I gently point out that it is nunchucks. Not numchucks. I know you thought it was numchucks, but it is not. It's nuNchucks. I love you.) But last night the Sensei let us try out the wooden nunchucks and while they are actually easier to maneuver and make a more satisfying swooshing sound when you strike, I foresee a few problems. Such as:

1.) The incredible shooting pain of hitting myself with them
2.) Shattering an elbow
3.) My finger swelling to the size of a bratwurst after I banged it when attempting to do a catch behind my back
4.) Concussions
5.) Losing an eye
6.) Damaging my kidneys
7.) Killing a small child who happens to get in my way
8.) Knights of Columbus! The Pain!
9.) No, seriously, these things HURT.

Sweep the Leg Johnny!!!

You know I'll do anything for a good laugh. If I think something is going to be funny or if I can get a good story out of it, I'm totally there. And I'm fortunate to have friends and family that are the same way.

Which is how Katie, Liz, Heather and I found ourselves in a Nunchucks for Everyone class last night.

And now I can't stop giggling. No seriously. I haven't been able to stop since last night when I had to bow to my sensei. You can't even imagine how much this whole thing tickles me. Or how many lines from the Karate Kid have run through my head.

It all started a few months ago when Katie opened up the the Upland Community Programs brochure and saw they were offering the class. We all happened to be hanging out and she brought it up that she thought we should join. It certainly sounded like fun. And said it was for everyone, so why not.

We were going primarily because it would be hilarious. I think nunchucks are inherently funny and I could only imagine the joy I would have in saying, super casually, "So, I was at my nunchucks class down at the dojo...." I mean, really. How funny, right?

But there were a few fears:

1.) Would sarcastic remarks be appreciated or even tolerated? Since we were going for laughs we fully intended to make it fun. Would they go along with it? Or would our sensei be like the one at the the Cobra Kai? "No Mercy!"

2.) Would it just be us and a bunch of 10 year olds? The age range said 8-adult, so there was that possibility.

3.) Would we be laughed out of the place because we were old women?

4.) Would we poke out our eyes, or the eyes of all the 10 years olds, with our nunchucks?

5.) My particular fear was that I'm not very coordinated and it said we would be learning tricks and spins. I'm 80. I can barely walk without falling over.

But all fears were resolved when we got to the class. Our sensei not only allowed sarcastic remarks, but gave them right back. We were given foam nunchucks which will greatly reduce the possibly of losing an eye. None of us fell over or called us old. And it was, indeed, mostly 10 year old boys. Goofy 10 year old boys. It turns out that it's a regular karate studio and the class is made up of the students there and community members can join up. There are a few teenagers who are all black belts and one woman whose son is in the class too. And they were all fantastic! They didn't laugh at us for being uncoordinated old women and they went easy on us, and then marvelled at our cat-like reflexes and overall awesomeness as we dominated in the Whack the Pieces of Pool Noodles into a Bucket with your Nunchucks game. Especially when it was boys against girls and the 4 of us teamed up with Sempai Jessica (who is a double black belt and 16) and the mom and we killed them. Take that, all you kids with your fancy colored belts!

So not only was it hilarious to be there, but it was also really fun. We learned the first of the blocks and strikes and after we got home the four of us practiced in the parking lot, which is where the real laughing happened. I'm talking not being able to stand up straight, wheezy grandpa kind of laughing. If any of you live in Las Brisas and happen to drive by on a Monday evening, and you see us in what looks like mortal combat, or in the throws of an epileptic fit, do not be alarmed...we are trained nunchuckers.