I Ain’t Skurrrred

I’m back since I liked today’s writing prompt. Too funny, today’s prompt says:Naked, with black socks. The prompt itself is about how do you feel about public speaking. But first, a sidebar.

Naked, with black socks. Now, the person who this most reminds me of has passed away, sadly. A couple of the crew have passed on. More sad, but I digress. Back in the day, we (and that’s the royal we, because I was an the outsider-iest insider there ever could be) were a randy group. As the story goes, one or three folks walked into a certain place to find a certain someone bumping uglies with another certain someone. And, as said story goes, all that was visible was white ass and black socks.

Back to the topic at hand, public speaking. At this point in time, it’s no big whoop. (Remember saying that as a kid? If you’re around my age? Maybe?) Way back in the day, when I was naught but a whippersnapper, I was in dance classes like so many little girls. We definitely had at least 2 recitals where we were on stage in front of millions (hundreds). No speaking during those, but it was a good start. I think my very first “public speaking” event was reading the morning announcements in junior high. I mean, I’m not counting book report type things. But it wasn’t long after those announcements that I truly had my first public speaking event. I was the president of the pep club and I had to speak in front of the school at a pep rally. Some of my friends heckled me and I told them to shut up right into the mic. I think some teachers may have cringed. Oh well. You gave me this mic.

Now that I’m thinking about it, I’ve pretty much been on stages forever. High school mascot, then cheerleader (read token). Bartending gigs, Club Med, life in general. I suppose it’s why I’m comfortable here. Plus, I’m so damn good at it, ya know?

Building A House

From previous posts, you may remember that I have a PDF of writing prompts, one for each day of the year. I didn’t really care for today’s prompt, but when I’ve skipped about 4 months of them, I could go back until I found something I wanted to write about. Since I’ve been in the habit of looking at houses recently, the prompt about describing your dream house sounded like fun.

Back in high school, I took an architectural drafting class where we had to do floor plans and a front elevation of a house of our own creation. I really enjoyed that although I later realized that architecture wasn’t really a strong point for me. Anywho, in this house that I created, there was a sunken living room, and the focal point of said sunken living room were the floor to ceiling windows. It was an entire wall of glass with the exception of the fireplace column that ran right up the center. Yeah, let’s keep that concept. I love high ceilings. Now, speaking of those high ceilings, they aren’t only in the living room. Over on the other side of the house, let’s say, is my room. My lady cave. (Hmm, perhaps phrasing on that one.) But it’s my office, my library, my pole/circus/yoga room. This room is special. It’s the only room in the house that both encompasses and utilizes two floors.

Of course, with that much height, I have a pole in my pole room. Additionally, I’m hanging my yoga trapeze, a single trap, and fabric. (It’s my dream, therefore I have unlimited fundage thank you very much.) Absosmurfly gorgeous dark hardwood floors grace the room and I’ll work out later how to protect them should I pic up a Cyr wheel. On the uninterrupted floor to ceiling wall are my books. And yes, I have one of those library ladder jobbies. The bottom floor has my office with the usual stuff – desk, chair, Sonos, oooh papasan chair, I miss that thing, and mirrors. I mean, it IS doubling as my pole studio. The upper section houses the yoga studio, complete with beautiful tapestries and a bay window for meditation that can double as a reading nook. This place will be my sanctuary.

Let’s go to the kitchen! I’ve always wanted an island in my kitchen, so obviously, I’m having one in my dream house. Currently, we don’t have nearly enough friggin freezer space, so that will be addressed for sure. Have you seen that crazy expensive oven that has different settings for like cake and bread and shit? Yeah, that. The Samsung see through the door fridge? Of course. I like the hanging pots and pans concept too. Window over the sink because, duh. I can’t describe much more than that because what I like changes pretty frequently.

Theatre room? Yes. Need somewhere to watch sports. And who knows, maybe I’d start watching movies.

And now, the bedroom. The haven of sleep. And nookie. King size bed. And the fluffiest pillowtop mattress available. I know it’s bad for my back but I still want it. Let’s make that bed a four poster bed. Maybe something gauzy about it. A chaise lounge…and a designated grape peeler. Certainly a fireplace, because even if it isn’t cold, it’s still pretty. Dual sinks in the master bath, travertine tile in there too. A huge jetted soaking tub separate from the shower that has multiple heads including ones spraying from the wall. Yes, I’m spoiled and it’s my dream house, remember.

Just because I have a jetted tub doesn’t mean that I don’t want a hot tub outside. And just because I don’t swim doesn’t mean I don’t want to have a really cool pool. Put a pool house out there, and a full outdoor kitchen too. And you know what, since the yard’s big enough, I’m putting a rig back there too. (Flying trapeze, that is.) Oh, and a trampoline with an Olympic bed. Maybe I’d have the bed level with the ground, but I’d have to research what safe on that one.

I have a Pinterest account. I never use it. I guess this might be a good reason to start although the very last thing I need in my life right now is some more social media. Oh, the decisions to be made. I should be back tomorrow…unless I get lost in Pinterest.

Well, hello there. Sweet hat, I know.


So, as you may or may not know, I live in the, at times, arctic tundra of Colorado. Every now and then, it’s cold here. Like super cold. Like double digits below zero cold. Imagine my happiness when I ran across this little gem: Sweet hat site #TacticalFullFaceMask

I told you it was sweet. Not long ago, it was one of those double digit under zero days. I was going out to the mailbox so I threw this on along with my ski jacket. Crazy to think, but I felt the cold air on my arms and chest area with my jacket zipped up, but I felt literally NO AIR on my head or neck area. Bonus that there’s a piece there that I’m not showing that allows you to also cover pretty much from the nose down.

It’s super soft and comfy and I think it looks pretty neat too. Comments I’ve had on it so far include I look like a cute wookie or ewok, but my favorite was that I look like a badass sand warrior in Final Fantasy or some other show/movie I don’t watch. 🙂


1822 or 911 twice

In my lifetime, I think I’ve had to call 911 one time when I watched someone basically butterfly open their forearm after putting it through a pane of glass. Outside of that little incident, emergencies have been few and far between…until this past weekend.

Late Saturday morning, and I mean 11am not 2am, I was driving down the road. If you’re in PA, kinda like driving down 51. If you’re on LI, like Sunrise Highway. If you’re in FL, like US1. So I’m driving down said road with Hubby in the passenger side. I am in the passing lane and I see a person in the right line driving pretty erratically. Like swerving, tailgating, and just generally being dangerous on the road. Said person is actually going beyond tailgating. Too close to the cars in front to even be called tailgating. Hubs sees this also and decides to get a little video in the event that we are witness to a crash caused by this lunatic.

Well, you’d better believe that the lunatic driver was NOT happy about this action. Pretty much set the driver right off. Now, I am the focus of this driver’s insanity. Said driver started riding, likely within inches of my bumper. When that wasn’t enough, the driver pulled up beside us and started screaming at us. With the window rolled up, I asked Hubs to NOT roll down the window. Not for any reason. Because right now, I’m a little bit scared for our lives.  Now Hubs is on the phone to call the police. Local police say call 911, so we do. We let them know what’s going on as I’m driving. This lunatic is still right by us and I’m doing my best to simply ignore him, stay on the road, and keep a normal speed.

911 says that they will alert officers in the area as we’ve given them a description of the car, including its plate, and the driver. Lunatic finally decides to get off my ass and away from us and we see the crazed driver speed by us and pull into a parking lot. It’s possible he just got tired of harassing us, but it’s more likely that he kinda figured out that we were on the phone with the police and if they find him, he’s in for it.

That threw me completely off my Saturday game. I was planning to wash my car, but then I was a little bit scared that the loon was still in the area and would recognize me and start shit. Since I wasn’t prepared to take my gun in my car, I just stayed at home for the rest of the day.

So, here we are on Sunday. The Pirates game has just come on, but I also need to get some stuff done for my Instagram challenges. I mosey on down to the #yogdungeon and work my way through my very first Ashtanga class. It was a beginner one, so it didn’t go through everything a regular class would, but it gave me a taste and I found that I like it.

Sidebar: We live in basically a retirement community. We have three neighbors – Paul, Bunny, and Kitty. Paul is next to us sharing a wall. Bunny and Kitty are both behind us where our decks all look at each other. We’re not entirely sure who lives alone and who has a second person there but we THINK that Paul is alone but Bunny and Kitty have husbands.

A couple weeks ago, Bunny’s son was over for a while. He left and later that day we saw red flashing lights. We peek outside to see the police and fire department walking around Bunny’s house, looking in windows and they have a ladder. Seems that someone sent them on a welfare check. Poor Bunny was just taking a shower.

All of a sudden, Hubs comes bounding down the stairs and tells me that he thinks that Kitty fell. We both go racing back up and I go out to the deck to see if she’s ok. She’s sitting on the ground with a plant between her legs and so I ask her how she’s doing. But she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even look up at me. And as I look closer, I see that she has drool coming from her mouth and mucus from her nose. SHIT!!! Race through the house, around the house and over to her. She’s definitely not verbally responsive but she’s breathing. It’s over 100 degrees out and I don’t know how long she’s been there. Run to bang on her door to get her husband. He calls 911. I go back out to Kitty. She’s still not responding. Mr. Kitty (his name is Bob) makes his way out (he has a walker). He’s on with 911 and they’re asking questions. I ask him to give me the phone.  Kitty is still breathing but she’s still not verbally responsive. 911 wants me to lay her down on her back. That’s just not a possibility. She’s practically sitting in a puddle from the hose that was on. I don’t want to make it worse by slipping when trying to move her. Luckily, at that moment, the police show up. Hang up with 911. The police are trying to talk to Kitty, get her to squeeze a hand if she can hear them. (WHY DIDN’T I THINK OF THAT?!?!) She’s squeezing but weakly. I go into their house to get some cool paper towels for Kitty’s forehead and to clean her up a little. Dignity, people. The paramedics have arrived and they are able to lift Kitty up onto the gurney. Hubs and I speak with the police for a while, giving them a timeline and our information. We’re told that we probably saved a life. We don’t want congrats. We’re just being decent human beings. I mean, really, who sees an elderly person in distress and just ignores them?!?!

Bob and Kitty’s daughter lives about a half hour away. So I tell Bob to just call them and I’d drive him to the hospital. On the way, we have some nice conversation. Bob is surprisingly calm about this whole ordeal. I don’t know that I’d be that calm if Hubs suddenly had something like this happen and I KNOW he wouldn’t be calm. It turns out that Kitty’s name is really Carol. (We’ve been calling her Kitty because she has 2 cats and she just yells out for them, “Kitty!”) Bob is a retired doctor. He’s been in the Army and lived all over. He keeps up with baseball and even knew about Marte going to the ASG. We talked about how different things are these days. He was super appreciative of our help. I offered to stay with him at the hospital until his family got there, but he promised he would be ok.

We saw his family bring him back late last night and they were there again this morning as I left for work. I haven’t gotten an update on Carol, but I am hoping against hope that she’s ok. And that I don’t have to call 911 any more for like another 40 years.

Krav Maga

Well hey there! It’s great to see you again. Thanks for stopping by. 🙂

This past weekend, I had the opportunity to take a self-defense class geared towards women. I had taken the class about four years ago and figured it was time for a refresher. You see, I have somewhat of a Napoleon complex going on. I tend to think that I’m tough as nails with all 5 foot 2 of my badassery. I mean, I’m not totally off my rocker. I do know when to keep my mouth shut, but I like to believe that I could hold my own in a struggle if it came down to it…even against a man.

We spent a little over two hours in there learning some techniques that are based in krav maga. Everyone grabs a partner and we take turns holding the pad for the other partner to punch/kick. But before we got to all of that fun, we determined where our “bubble” was. in other words, how close is too close for a stranger to get. The exercise included getting into two lines and walking towards your partner until she yelled out to stop. Now, notice I said yelled. Some ladies neglected to bring their big girl voices. I hope that somewhere along the line they find those voices, especially should they ever need them. Me? Former cheerleader, tomboy, tree climber, trapeze flyer, performer with no microphone. I’m loud. And if I don’t want you near me, you’re gonna know. The instructor tells everyone, “hey, watch her and be loud like her.” I have crazy expressive eyes and when I’m in this class or possibly in danger, I just have crazy eyes. I will tell you a story with these eyes and if I don’t like what you’re up to, that story is gonna start with F*&K and end with YOU.

Anywho, we got through our brief warmup and figuring out our comfort zones. On to punching! Straight punches, heel strikes, and hammer punches, oh my! No gloves. Just blasting through that pad (and pushing my poor partner over). But ladies, you don’t just have those hands fo punching. Don’t ever be afraid or ashamed to gouge eyes and scratch faces. The overarching theme was FIGHT FOR YOUR LIFE. Whatever it takes. A well placed forehead to the bridge of the nose. Whatever. Oh, and hey, those stems! Groin kick! I tell ya, I P90X-ed the hell outta those kicks.

Last time, we learned escaping from a bear hug from behind – bend at the waist, elbow, elbow, elbow, elbow, elbow, elbow (is he off yet??), elbow, elbow, (oh he’s off now?), hammer punch to the base of your neck, hammer, hammer, hammer, groin, groin, kick, kick, kick, punch, punch. I’m done a la Wendy Testaburger. This time we worked on removing a choke hold from the front. The reality is that the move might not fully remove the assailant’s hands from your throat, but it’ll move them enough that you’ll still be able to breathe. And fight. For your life.It’s called a pluck and should almost always come along with a groin kick. Like they said in the Simpson’s, it ain’t Krav Maga if there’s no groin kick.

We do these drills for about 90 minutes before we’re ready to go to simulated attacks. We split into two groups and go into two rooms where our “attacker” is in a padded suit with a padded helmet. All of the ladies stand in a circle with one lady in the middle. They guy in the suit walks/stalks around you, saying some pretty ignorant sh!t, touching you, he pulled my hair (hard!), but you can’t react until he’s truly attacking you. Every word out of his mouth was pretty much the equivalent of overtuning the smallest string on the guitar and his hands on my neck was when the string popped.

There was a Timberwulf sighting at that moment. Pluck, kick, hammer, hammer, hammer, hammer, kick to the chest while you’re on the ground. I’m done. The instructor picked me to go first. Good to have it out of the way so I could just focus on cheering on the other ladies, and in some circumstances, providing hugs and words of encouragement like “in through your nose, out through your mouth!” because one girl was pretty close to hyperventilating. A LOT of tears were shed in that class. Some because, and this is just an educated guess, it was too real and too reminiscent of something that had already happened. Some because they just didn’t realize they had the power within themselves. And some just because like hip openers in yoga, this will just release some emotions right up outta you.

They have the class annually and I really shouldn’t let three years go in between taking it. But next time I go, I really have to remember to cool myself down better and to stretch better. Why? Class was Saturday; today is Tuesday and my shoulder is still crying. Icy Hot and Tylenol are my friends, but a little discomfot is better than not knowing how to protect myself and the options that come with that. I cannot recommend enough that every female get out there and find some sort of self-defense class and take it and take it seriously. It just might save your life.

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