Back in the saddle, again

If you didn’t catch it in the last post, or don’t know what the hell I’m talking about, I went to a taijutsu class Wednesday night. I’m thinking of getting back into it because (sometimes) I miss it.

Just a little background for those of you who are still scratching your heads: taijutsu (the class I attend; maybe the school as a whole is more focused on ninjutsu, but the parts that we study regularly are decidedly taijutsu) is a Japanese combat martial art system that incorporates nine traditional fighting styles, the oldest of which goes back more than 900 years. There are three belt levels that basically indicate the following:

• white–look out for these beginners; they have no control and will hurt you
• green–cannon fodder
• black–these folks have learned enough about the basics of the art that now they can start learning things seriously

I’ve been out of class for almost nine months; I stopped after I let some dude wrench my shoulder . I’ve been feeling really ambivalent about class – particularly about the instructor. I like the guy as a personal friend, but I’ve been having some issues with how his philosophy about the art and the greater organization. Then it struck me, maybe a month ago, that I can still go train with him and learn things and improve personally, but I don’t have to necessarily follow his philosophical path.

And so it was that I was in class Wednesday night. And so it is that I am still sore this morning.

The beatdown commeth

I know I was (ok, ok *am*) a cocky and mouthy little fuck back in the day. But at least I didn’t go to classes for a combat martial art and lip off to the biggest guy in the class, whom I’ve never met, and who’s belt is definitely darker than my pure-white-as-the-driven-snow one. At least I didn’t ignore the rules of the dojo and keep wearing my stinky hippy necklace that my fourth-grade girlfriend gave me back in the day, because I figured that it a) might get broken; b) might make a good handle if it doesn’t break; c) is against the rules of the dojo.

It seems someone is just begging for a beatdown, and I’m just the guy to give it to him, but I’m going to have to wait for a little while. I want to regain my control and finesse a little before I lay into him seeing as how I don’t want to actually do any (lasting) damage; just open his eyes and his mind. And besides, the later in the semester this happens, the closer we’ll get to free sparring.

Regardless of what my mom well tell you, I think providing this service is going to increase my positive karma. This kid is so similar to how I was, it’s almost like going back in time to give myself a lesson.

Forgetful bread man

We’re out of bread. So, like a good hubby, I told The Wife I’d make some more. Now this is no big deal; I’ve made loaves hundreds of times. Heck, I don’t even use a recipe any more; I just *make bread*.

Except when I mix everything together, knead it all up, then go to bead, forgetting my poor, abandoned bread on the counter, like I did last night. Uh, oooops.

I woke up this morning at about quarter-’til-five thinking, “Gosh – there’s bread downstairs.” So I came down and did a second knead, formed loaves, and in a while, I’ll have some fresh bread for breakfast. There are worse things in the world.

Make like aj and split

Well, rep one of my (patent-pending) workout program is complete. All my wood is cut. This weekend is the big split-a-thon.

Last night, I went to the local tool rental joint to pick up the splitter I reserved a few days ago. After I told the guy working the counter who I was and what I was after, he said, and this is an exact quote, “Uh oh.”

Turns out they rented both their regular splitters and didn’t hold one back for me. They did, however, have a 30-ton model they gave to me for the same price. So now, out in the yard sits a big ol’ bright red 30-ton hydraulic splitter surrounded by about a cord-and-a-half of split oak. Today and tomorrow, all I’m going to do, for as long as I can stand it, is split more wood.

Ach, Pete, me lad, where are ye when I need ye?

Lookin’ fer Tweets

I’m looking for Twitter streams from my friends. Do you Tweet? If so, either comment here and lemme know, or drop me an e-mail (ajvanbeest … at … gmail). Unsurprisingly, you can get my tweets at theaj42.

Don’t have any idea what I’m talking about? Go to the link above and learn more!

Busy Boy

Man, between cutting wood (yes, still, but I’m close to done!), trying to update my WordPress install (you may have seen the results of one of my failed upgrade attempts via a bunch of code published at the top of each page), and keeping up with Rocket Boy, I’m surprised I haven’t (mostly) forgotten to breath.

Here’s a little update of what’s been doing:

• Trip to Chicago/St. Paul
• Learning PHP
• Cutting firewood
• Starting jazz band
• Reading to, playing with, and running after The (Rocket) Boy
• Laying the groundwork for Bayfield County web update goodness
• Laying the groundwork for my own web update goodness
• Trying to translate web goodness into financial goodness

I’m sure there’s more, but it’s escaping me at the moment.

Home Again, Home Again

We had a good trip. But it was a long trip. Especially, so it seemed, for The Boy. He did a lot of sitting in his car seat. Then more sitting in his stroller. Then more in the car seat, then in and out of the stroller at the MN state fair, then yet more car seat. He was (mostly) a champ.

We were all pretty blitzed by the time we got to my parents’ house on Thursday evening. Adding the State Fair to that on Friday was just too much. We were wiped out, so we noodled around St. Paul Saturday morning, then drove home Saturday afternoon.

And slept on Sunday. Monday, some, too.