You do WHAT to women?

Where do I even begin? I know I've talked numerous times about our friends from the sushi place -the most popular story being, "Sushi, sake, and a haircut?" They are a crazy bunch in there, but we've grown fond of them over the years. We've been going to this place since we moved back to CA seven years ago. And there have been plenty of interesting stories to come out of there for sure! After hearing our stories, people often ask us, "Why in the world do you keep going there?" and I'm never really sure how to answer that. Several reasons, I guess.....First of all, we really love the food. It's consistently fresh, it always tastes good, and it's actually pretty reasonably priced (sushi can be expensive!). I guess the second reason is just that despite the chaos and craziness, we kind of like Frank and Jeannie. They are nice to us, they always welcome us like family, and although at times we have to put up with some drama, or we have to wait forever for our food (actually, we always have to wait forever - especially when they are really busy - because I guess they know that no matter how much we put up with, we always come back), it's worth it to us to continue to frequent the place. Even if they do keep trying to get us to go to Vegas with them. And even if they did ask us to borrow $6,000 once so that they could get Jeannie's ring out of the pawn shop because Frank hocked it for gambling money that he, in turn, lost. (We did not lend them the money.)

It's a very small place - It can hold maybe 30 people, and that would be packed to capacity. Frank is the main sushi chef, although they have some help in there on weekend nights when they get busier. He really is a character - he's missing quite a few teeth, but the number seems to change every time we're in there. Sometimes it seems like he's missing his two front, top ones, and other times it seems like he's just missing some on the bottom. Sometimes I don't notice any missing at all....I can't quite figure that out. Anyway - it's no secret that Frank enjoys his sake bombs. At the beginning of the week he's usually pretty mellow, but it seems like as the week creeps closer and closer to the weekend, he ingests more and more sake. So sometimes on a Friday or Saturday night, he's pretty drunk. Fortunately for us, the quality of the sushi never seems to change - whether he's drunk or not. That's a plus! His wife, Jeannie, is very tiny, maybe five feet tall, and probably weighs as much as my left leg. She's got a short, punk rock type hairstyle. Sometimes she's got colored streaks of burgundy or blond in it, and she's very into fashion. She loves shopping for high end, name brand stuff. She doesn't really get a chance to show it off while she's working, but she gets very excited talking about it. She waits tables in there every night, along with 1 or 2 others, depending on how busy they are.

So the other night we went to see The Hunger Games with our good friends, Peter and Jessica. Because it was opening night, we didn't even try to get some dinner before the show - we just headed straight to the theater to stand in line. So when the movie got out, around 9:50 or so, we were all hungry. We were trying to decide where to grab something to eat that wouldn't take forever, but our options were pretty limited since a lot of places close at 10:00. We walked across the parking lot of the theater to a little sushi place, but as we opened the door we were met with the glares of all the employees sitting down to eat their dinners, so we politely apologized and backed out of there. We were trying to decide what time Yuki closed, so Eric just called them. Jeannie answered and said to come on over, so we did. I think they technically close at 10:00, but I also think that some of the regulars probably stay later sometimes, too. When we got there, there were three people sitting at the sushi bar chatting with Frank and drinking. One of them was this guy who is also named Frank. He's just this loud, obnoxious guy who comes in there all the time and hangs out at the sushi bar so he can drink. He has a wife and kids at home, but he seems happier to just hang out at Yuki. He's pretty annoying, actually. He is one of those people, who, even though I've seen him and met him 5,000 times, when I come in with Eric, he'll greet Eric and just pretend like I'm not even there. He's kind of an idiot. In addition to Frank and Jeannie, and the three people at the sushi bar, their part-time waiter, Simon was also there. He's very nice, but he hardly speaks any English at all, so the language barrier makes it hard to do much besides smile and nod a lot.

Once we got there, Jeannie pointed us to a table and brought us some menus. We thanked them for staying late for us, and they said no problem. They left us alone for a few minutes while we decided what to order, then Simon came over and took our order and our menus. No sooner than the menus were gone, then Simon was back plopping a carafe of hot sake down on the table. We all looked at each other. I don't think any of us were really all that interested in it. Jessica and I definitely weren't, and Eric and Peter reluctantly let Simon pour some for them. No one was really in party mode. It had been a long week, Eric had been traveling, and Jessica and Peter's son was home sick, plus we were all just kind of tired.  We were really just looking for a low key dinner before going our separate ways and heading home. But that's the thing with Frank - you kind of can't turn him down. Because he was in party mode. It's happened to us many times before. So the best way to deal with it without just flat out being rude is to invite other people to partake of the sake on your table. So Eric called Simon and Frank to the table to take a shot of it with him and Peter. That helped, and then just as the other Frank was getting up to leave, Eric yelled over to him, "Hey man, come do a shot of sake before you go!" So he came over and took some, too. Our food came, and we started eating as Frank, Jeannie and Simon cleaned up the sushi bar and started to stack chairs on tables. Jeannie eventually sat at the sushi bar to watch some Chinese dating game on TV, and Frank was busy tidying things up in his work space. For a bit it was pretty peaceful. The food was good and we were just enjoying chatting with our friends. (They'd never been there with us - I think they'd been in the restaurant once a long time ago, but that was the extent of their experience there.)

Earlier in the night, Jeannie did stop by to chat with us about where we'd just come from....(This story is SO much better when I can act out all of the characters here - I can do a mean impersonation of Frank and his accent - but my typed words will have to suffice for this story. Jeannie and Frank are Chinese and although they do speak English, they aren't totally fluent, so sometimes the language barrier makes conversations hard.) So we told Jeannie that we'd gone to the movies. (She loves movies - she goes almost every weekend. But only action movies, because she has a hard time following the dialogue of the other types.) We told her that we'd seen The Hunger Games, and she got all animated. "Oh! Is good? What you think? Christopher want to see! But me and Natalie, we want to see the other, the the the the, uh....what is it, Carter something." One of us said, "John Carter?" She nodded quickly, "Yes! That one! So what you think of Hunger Game?" I told her that there was a lot of killing in The Hunger Games, and I wasn't sure if she should take Christopher. But that I didn't know anything about John Carter. She said, "What's it about, Hunger Games?" We gave her a brief description, and told her that it was good, but that it might be too much for kids.

Once Jeannie settled down to start watching her Chinese dating game show, and Frank finished cleaning up, he wandered over to us, and we had the exact same conversation with him that we'd just had with Jeannie about the movie. We explained it to him, that it was about kids killing each other. He seemed unable to focus on anything for a very long period of time. He'd obviously had a lot to drink. He just kept repeating things we'd said, "Oh....so lots of killing. Not good for kids." We said yes. He kept trying to bring more sake to the table, but the guys were like, "No, it's cool!" He didn't listen though, and he'd bring little pitchers over. They just kept trying to get him and Simon to take shots of it because they really didn't want it.  At one point, after our movie conversation, Frank walked toward the kitchen, and then stopped about five feet away from us and turned back around. "You know what they should have?" he asked. We said, What?" He got all quiet and serious and said, "The Hunger Games......" then he held his fists in the air and yelled at the top of his lungs, "....OF DANVILLE!!!" He yelled it so loud that Peter and Eric (who had their backs to him) jumped. We all looked at each other and started laughing. What do you even say to that? He wandered off for a minute or two and Eric and I tried to explain that Frank was a little quirky. Eric always gets a lot of attention from Frank and Jeannie anyway, so you can imagine that when we are literally the only people left in there, they're not going to want to leave him alone.

We continued eating, but a minute or two later, Frank stumbled back over to us. Eric and I had some mindless conversation with him, but he still couldn't seem to focus. He said, "Oh, I'm too much drinking tonight." Eric was messing around with him and said, "Yeah! It's your Friday night, Frank! Woohoo!" I looked at Eric and said, "Um, it's everyone's Friday night. It is Friday night." We all laughed at that, but Frank just kind of stood there with a glazed look on his face. He moved over behind Peter and Eric and pulled a chair up right behind them and sat down. It was kind of awkward because he was facing me and Jessica and Eric and Peter couldn't really see him  unless they twisted around in their seats. "Soo....." he said, "The Hunger Games......."  We all kind of nodded uncomfortably. It was like eating dinner with a drunk eagle looking over your shoulder. "......so, lots of killing....." We said yes. Lots of children being killed. All of a sudden Frank says, "No killing women?" Not seeing what he meant, I said, "No, it's kids who have to fight to the death until there is only one left." Frank stood up and came around to the side of the table again. We all looked at him, waiting to see what he was going to do next. He kept mumbling about Hunger Games and killing, then he says to us, "I murder women." Um....................................?????? We all just looked at each other and laughed uncomfortably. I said, "Frank! Knock it off! You're freaking out our friends!" He kind of paced back and forth next to the table as we looked at each other. He was nodding his head. "Yes," he said. "I murder women." I yelled out to Jeannie, "Jeannie! Tell him to stop! He's crazy!" She looked over from her game show and said, "What he say?" I said, "He says he murders women!" Jeannie made a disgusted face and just waved her hands at him like she was dismissing him as ridiculous. She shook her head, "He has too many to drink." Then, totally unbothered, she went back to watching the TV. Frank left us alone for a few minutes, so Eric and I apologized to Peter and Jessica. We said that we've never seen him quite that crazy. I looked at them seriously, and said, "He doesn't murder women, you guys. He really doesn't." We all started laughing because what a crazy statement for me to have to make to my friends while at dinner! Let me be clear that I never felt like we were in any danger or that Frank was an out of control crazy murderer. He is just a harmless sushi chef/restaurant owner who has a penchant for drinking too much sake sometimes. But still....it was more than a little awkward. Frank returned from the kitchen and picked up on his own solo conversation right where he left off. "Yeah....I murder women...." Eric said, "Dude......." And I said, "Oh my gosh, Frank stop it! You do not murder women!" Frank looked at me and goes, "Yes. I murder women. I take them to hell........" then he lifted his hands to the sky like he was setting a baby bird off to flight, and continued....."and then I take them to heaven." He watched us, and said, "But a long time ago, I used to do this...." I said, "You did not!" Then he became even more serious, as he raised his eyebrows and repeated the whole thing....."Yes. I did. I murder women. I take them to hell, then I take them to heaven." He did the same motion with his hands. All at once something dawned on me. I said, "Are you trying to say that you are a ladykiller?" Frank looked over at me, blearily. "Yes," he said. "I murder women." I said, "But are you trying to say that you're good with the ladies? You pick them up, you take them to heaven?"  I made the same hand gestures as he had. Frank said, "Yes. That's what I say. I murder the women, the ladies." I shook my head, "No Frank. There is a big difference between telling someone that you're a ladykiller and telling someone that you murder women! Don't say that! Saying you're a ladykiller is like saying that you slay ladies, you are good with the ladies, but saying that you murder women makes people think that you are carrying dead bodies around in the trunk of your car!" I kind of looked around the table in relief. "You guys, I think that's what he was trying to say - it was just lost in translation." None of us were really sure though.

We ate the rest of our sushi as quickly as possible at that point. We were all ready to get out of there. Frank plopped back in his seat behind Eric and Peter and continued with the outrageous commentary. "Where you guys go after this? Let's go to San Francisco. Let's go dancing." He held his arms up above his head and wiggled in his chair. "Come on, no kids! Let's go! Go to city. Do dancing!" We kind of just appeased him to get him to stop. Eric said, "You like dancing, Frank?" Frank grinned his toothless grin and said, "Yeah. Let's go....we need to go do dancing!"

Anyway, I could go on and on, but you should get the gist of our evening that night. It was pretty crazy. When we left, Frank even followed us into the parking lot saying, "Let's go to That Bar. We can dance." Then he stood behind me and freaked me. I just looked at Jessica and shook my head. I had hoped to be able to stand in the parking lot with them, kind of absorbing and rehashing the crazy scene we'd just encountered, but Frank was clearly not going to allow that to happen, so I just called out to them, "Okay guys! Thanks for going to the movies with us! We'll see you later!" We hopped into our car, and they got into theirs and Frank finally went back inside the sushi place where he could be Jeannie's problem instead of ours!

Now I still don't think that Frank murders women, and although the whole scene was completely unreal, chances are you'll still find us getting sushi from them sometime in the future. Now we just know not to ever go in there at the end of the night when there is a chance of us becoming the last customers in the place.

Who do you think you are?

Last year my mom and I were trying to figure out what she could get the kids for Christmas. A couple of her neighbors have their kids in karate and Owen and Emily had shown some mild interest in trying that. Owen is really involved in hockey, all year long, and because of this we don't sign him up for soccer and spring baseball like so many other kids in his class. So I thought karate might be something good for him to add to his activities. I wanted Emily in something active as well, so I told my mom that it would be fine with me if she looked into karate for them.

My mom went to check the place out and found out about a special they were offering: Two private lessons, three months of karate, and a uniform for each of them. Even as a special, it was still really pricey. But it sounded like something they might like, so she signed them up. She wrapped the uniforms and put them under the Christmas tree for them to open on Christmas morning. The place is called America's Best Karate, or ABK, and it's owned by a guy named Master Tony Lerma. He runs the studio and his wife works there as well, running the administrative office part of things.

On Christmas morning, the kids were both excited when they opened their uniforms. Karate was totally unknown to them, and I think they were excited about the idea of starting something new. We signed them up for their first lesson in January. It was a private lesson between them and the Master. There are benches along the wall of the studio where you can sit and watch the classes, and then there is another waiting area on the other side of that wall where there are little tables and a vending machine - it's a good place to sit with a laptop or an iPad or maybe some homework.

The kids had their two private lessons, then started attending classes. The schedule is such that you can drop in during any time slot that is belt appropriate. Meaning on Tuesdays at 5:15 there is a class for white through orange belts, or on Wednesdays at 4:15 it's yellow only. There is usually something within each belt class each day. Master Lerma suggests that the kids come at least three days a week to really get the most out of it. You pay on a monthly basis and can come as often as you want. The first few classes were really fun for them. They were a little out of their element, and after the stern discussions about discipline and respect from the Master during those first two lessons, I think also a little intimidated. But there were other brand new white belts with them during the classes, so I think it helped them to feel like they were in the same boat as the other kids.

Somewhere around the second or third week of these classes, Emily started to show some trepidation. She seemed a little nervous before class, and she started to say that she really didn't want to go to karate. When I'd tell her that we still had to go, she would agree to do it, but I would see her standing in the class trying to remember the moves with tears rolling down her cheeks. She wouldn't complain or throw a fit - she'd stay right in it, but she was pretty upset. But then, after class I'd ask how it went, and she'd say fine, and she would seem sincere in her response. So I figured that this was just going to be a growing experience for her - that she was out of her comfort zone and this would be a good way for her to grow a little. Face her fears and all that.

Meanwhile, as I talked to friends about the kids being in karate, I began to hear negative things about the place - about Master Lerma in particular. I never really got full stories because I think people were reluctant to badmouth him too much since they knew my kids were already enrolled. I listened to what people had to say, and figured that I'd just keep a good eye on him while also keeping an open mind. As long as we didn't have any specific complaints about him ourselves, we'd continue to go. Owen was enjoying the process, and Emily was kind of up and down. At one point she was pretty upset before class and I caught Master Lerma's eye. I told him that she was very nervous about forgetting the moves to the series they were working on at the time. It broke my heart to see her crying and upset, but in spite of the occasional tear rolling down her cheek, she seemed to be dealing with it okay, so I wanted to let her continue to grow and learn from the experience. You know, the whole, that which doesn't kill you makes you stronger kind of thing. Master Lerma got down on his knees to get on Emily's level and he talked to her about just doing the best she could. That it's okay to do your best and fail because as long as you're doing your best, you are trying, and that's what counts. I liked how he handled it, and she seemed reassured by his words.

The kids earned their black stripes on their belts, then several weeks later, they ended up qualifying for yellow belt testing. She was nervous about the testing, but everything went well and she and Owen both earned their yellow belts. We were coming up on the end of our three month package and I talked to Emily about continuing with karate. Several times throughout the three months, she would ask if she could stop taking karate, and I told her that Grandma had committed to three months and it wasn't fair to Grandma to stop going before that time was up. Emily seemed to accept this, but she never seemed fully comfortable with the whole thing.

Now, for those of you who don't know my daughter, I have to fill you in on some details. First of all, I am not one of those moms who believe that her children are perfect. By any means. I could tell you their faults and believe me, they both have plenty. But Emily is genuinely just a good girl. I don't know any other term to describe her. She is one of the most genuine, kind-hearted kids I've ever known. There is not a malicious bone in her body - she is kind to people and animals. She is also a rule follower. She does not like to break any rules, and is uncomfortable in a situation where she thinks she might have done so - even inadvertently. If the homework says to color the boxes red, and we only have a pink colored pencil, when I tell her that it will be okay with the teacher to do it in pink, she wants me to email the teacher to make sure. And even though she doesn't break the rules, she also is not a tattle-tale. She just seems to have a maturity that shows through in her actions. I know most of you are probably sticking your fingers down your throat and throwing up right now, and I totally understand that. But those of you who really know Emily, know all these things to be true. That's not to say that she doesn't have her emotional moments that make me want to tear my hair out, like when she refuses to wear tennis shoes on PE day because she can't wiggle her toes in any tennis shoes I buy for her. Or when she cries because I won't let her eat the giant Nerd that she tried to share with her birds and after they didn't want it, and it fell on the dirty bedding inside their cage, she washed it in the bathroom with soap and water and now wants to eat it because it's the biggest Nerd she's ever seen. She can be frustrating, without a doubt. But the bottom line is that she's a good girl.

So with the three month trial period drawing to a close, Emily and I talked about whether she wanted to continue with karate. At first Owen was kind of getting mad at her and saying, "Emily! You're just going to see me doing it and get mad when you're not getting to do the things I do!" But Emily said that she really was fine with not continuing it. She said she'd liked doing it, but it just wasn't her thing. She loves art and drawing and has been asking me for a while now to find an art class to enroll her in, so I told her I'd look into that. I want her in some sort of physical activity and she had loved gymnastics when she did it last year, so she said she'd like to take that as well. I said that would be fine, and we agreed that Owen would continue with karate and Emily was not going to renew once the three months was up.

My mom took Owen to karate last week on Wednesday and Emily stayed home with me. Master Lerma wasn't the instructor that day, so he didn't see that Emily wasn't there. Then on Friday night, the kids had their usual sleepover at my parents' house, and my mom took Owen to class on Saturday at noon. Since Eric is always at work during the week, I knew it would mean a lot to Owen if Eric came to see his class, so I told my mom that we'd meet them at the studio at noon. Eric and I walked in, and it was pretty hectic in there. One class was ending, and Owen's was about to start. Emily was excited to see Eric and to show him a little drawing kit my mom had just gotten for her at the toy store, so they called Owen's class up to the mat before we got a chance to sit down on the bench in the room.  As the class got started, Emily and I joined my mom and Eric on the bench that goes along the wall of the studio. Just as we got settled, Master Lerma walked over. He got down on his knees in front of Emily and said, "Emily, so I saw Owen over there and I asked him why you weren't in class too. He said that you decided not to keep taking karate. I asked Owen why. I asked him if it was because it was boring to you, and he said no. So I asked him if it was because it was you were too busy for it and he said no. So then I asked him if it was because maybe it was a little bit intimidating to you and maybe a little bit out of your comfort zone, and he said yes. So then I said to Owen, 'So Owen, do you think that maybe Emily is quitting the exact thing she needs the most?' And Owen said yes." I was warily watching, as Master Lerma continued to talk to Emily. I looked at him, and then I looked at Emily to gauge her reaction. She was sitting there looking at him with wide eyes. He continued, "You know, Emily.....life isn't easy. Life is hard. You're going to see that! I've lived on my own since I was fifteen years old!" Alarm bells started going off in my head, but I was trying to be respectful, so I let him continue as I kept my eyes trained on his face. He said, "So do you think I gave up when I was fifteen and things got hard for me? No! I didn't! I kept with it and was disciplined and worked hard and I made something of myself!" I was sitting there thinking, "She's six years old (excuse my language here), motherfucker, what the hell does she need to know about living a hard life at the age of six?!"  So then my mom looked at Emily and, obviously trying to rescue Emily, said to Master Lerma, "Well, she's decided she's going to try something else instead. Go ahead and tell him, Emily." So Emily says, "I'm going to take an art class and gymnastics." We all looked at Master Lerma after she said this. He nodded and smiled, "Okay Emily. Good for you." Without even realizing that I'd been holding my breath, I exhaled in relief. I could see that he was backing down, and although I didn't like his approach at all, at least he seemed to be genuinely supportive of her choice to try something new. But then his smile turned mean. "Well Emily, here's what I want you to do. I want you to come back to me in six months and tell me how those art classes are going." My brow furrowed as I tried to see where he was going. He continued, "Because I can just about guarantee you that in six months, when you come to see me, you will have quit those classes too. Because you are developing a pattern here. You are becoming a quitter. You quit karate because it didn't come easy to you, and I'm certain you're going to give up on art class or gymnastics. Probably both. Because......" I interrupted him as my voice shook with rage, "That is enough!" I sliced my hand horizontally through the air in front of his face to emphasize how serious I was. I leaned forward and said, "She does not deserve for you to talk to her like that! She is six years old! That is enough!" Master Lerma looked over at me in surprise and got kind of a baffled smile on his face. He nodded and said, "Okay." He looked like a bully who'd just been stood up to by the wimpy kid. He obviously wasn't used to people standing up to him like that. He kept that weird smile pasted on his face as he started to say, "I wasn't trying to...." And I interrupted him again and said, "Leave her alone! She does not deserve that!......" But then, one of the things I hate the most about myself kicked in, and in my fury I started to cry. Why do I do that? Damn it! I hate that! So I stood up, and as I walked out of the room, I pointed my finger at him and repeated, "Enough!"

I walked through the crowded waiting area, dodging people as I went to the door. I opened the door and stepped outside so I could calm down. I took several deep breaths and tried to distract myself by looking at my phone. I stood there shaking in anger for a few minutes as I thought about what just took place. I wondered what my mom and Eric were thinking as they sat in there. I wondered if they thought I overreacted. But then I thought about the whole conversation again and I decided that I did not overreact. First of all, that man had no right questioning my son about why his sister wasn't continuing karate. He had no right to make Owen uncomfortable by basically forcing Owen to say that Emily quit because karate didn't come easy to her. How dare he? And the bottom line is that Emily did not quit because karate didn't come easy to her. No, dammit! She stuck it out for three months! Sometimes with tears rolling down her cheeks for fear of making a wrong move. But she stayed with it! She finished out the three months and when the time came to renew, that's when she decided that although she had enjoyed it, it just wasn't right for her. This place is really expensive, and my mom was paying for this as the kids' Christmas gifts, and there was no reason to enroll Emily in more classes if she wasn't into it. So we had several talks with her before coming to this decision, and it was one that we were all okay with.

Once I composed myself I went back inside and sat in the little waiting area. There is a cutout in the wall so that parts of the waiting area can still see into the class and what is going on in there. I could see Master Lerma up in front of the kids. Obviously he'd decided to take his frustration out on the class because they were receiving the lecture of all lectures. I sat there listening to him. He was continuing on the theme of, "Life is hard, and you can't just give up when things get hard. You need discipline to get anywhere in life!" He continued lecturing for another minute or two, then he said, "You hear about ADD and ADHD and bi-polar! I get kids in here all the time and their parents say to me, 'Oh, he's got ADD - we can't get him to pay attention to anything. We have problems with his behavior and he's on medication.' or parents might say, 'My kid is bi-polar and has terrible mood swings and is in trouble all the time, and I just don't know what to do!' So I tell those parents to sign them up here for six months! And guess what? In six months, after some hard work with me, well what do you know?! No sign of bi-polar! No more medication for ADD! There really isn't bipolar disorder or ADHD. It's just lack of discipline!" I sat up straight in my chair and said out loud, "Oh, my God! This man is crazy!" I looked around the room to see what other parents were saying, but no one seemed to be paying attention. I shook my head. I know some parents who would have physically flown across the room and attacked that man for his ignorant claims! Once his rampage was over, he began class. I sat back in my chair and texted my mom. She was just on the other side of the wall, but I didn't want to go back in there. I said, "That was uncalled for." My mom replied, "I agree." A minute later Emily came back to where I was sitting. She had her art kit. I said, "Are you going to sit with me and draw?" She said yes. As she got started, I said to her, "That was not okay, what Master Lerma said to you." She nodded. She said, "Why was he telling me that?" I said, "I don't know, Emily. He was trying to make you feel bad for quitting karate. But you don't need to feel bad. You didn't do anything wrong, okay?" She said okay. Thank goodness she really didn't seem too disturbed by the whole thing. More confused than anything, really. This man has a tendency to talk way over the heads of these kids. He uses huge words that they don't understand, but because he's such an authoritative presence, they don't question him. Even if they don't know what the heck he's talking about. I sat in my chair trying to settle down as Emily drew and sharpened her colored pencils.

A few minutes later my mom came to sit next to me, leaving Eric in there watching Owen's class. She and I discussed how outrageous Master Lerma's comments to Emily were. She said, "What do you want to do about Owen? Do you want him to stay here?" I told her I didn't know. On one hand, I did not want to continue to patronize this place, but on the other hand I didn't want to pull Owen out of something he was enjoying. I wasn't really sure what to do at that point. My mom said, "Well, Mickie, I literally just signed Owen up for another three months and bought all the sparring gear, so I just gave them a pretty big check. I did it right when we got here before class."I told her that I didn't want her to lose any money, but I was too worked up to make a real decision and I knew I should probably take the weekend to think it over. So she said, "Okay, I'm going to go in there and tell his wife to hold my check until Monday. That way you can figure out what you want to do." I said okay, and I told her that I'd go in and talk to the wife, but I was afraid I'd start to cry again. She said, "I know. It's fine. I don't have a problem talking to her." So I watched my mom through the window of the office, as she talked to Master Lerma's wife. His wife is very soft-spoken and nice - she's European, I'm not sure what country she's from, but she's got a very polite, formal type of personality. I could see her talking to my mom, and I could see my mom's posture becoming a bit defensive. I could tell my mom wasn't backing down. They spoke for several minutes and my mom came back out. "She's going to hold the check until I call her on Monday," my mom said. I said okay, and thanked her for talking to her. My mom said, "She kept saying that she's sure he wasn't trying to make Emily feel bad, but I told her that's exactly what he was doing, so then she said that she wanted to talk to him after class so that he could apologize to Emily." I told my mom that I really didn't want him to talk to Emily anymore, but that I was interested in how he might handle it. I also told my mom that the threat of them losing money on Owen was probably the thing they were most concerned about.

So we sat and watched the rest of the class, and Emily continued to draw on her paper. Right at the end of class, Emily went to the bathroom. There was someone in the bathroom, so I saw her standing outside the door waiting for quite a while. Then I saw Master Lerma's wife go and stand inside the studio just off the mats, waiting for him to finish. He saw her standing there and asked if she had an announcement. She shook her head no. So he finished up class, and walked over to her. I saw her whisper in his ear, but I couldn't see his reaction. After a moment he walked up to me. He had a contrite expression on his face, and he said, "Is Emily still around, by chance?" I told him that she was in the bathroom. He said, "Okay, because I just wanted to take a minute to apologize to her. I wasn't trying to be condescending to her or belittle her in any way...." I interrupted, "That is exactly what you were trying to do! You were trying to make her feel bad for stopping karate!" He shook his head, "No, I just want her to understand that just because something doesn't come naturally to her, she can't just quit, and that life is hard and this is just the beginning. Kids need discipline and they need to learn...." I held my hand up as if to tell him to stop. I said, "You don't even know Emily. She is a stellar child. She does not have any discipline problems, nor does she have any social problems. Emily is one of the best kids you could ever want to meet. Just because karate is not her thing, that does not make her a quitter!" I could see people starting to realize that there was a confrontation going on, and starting to look at us, but I didn't care. I continued, "You know, you were fine with what you said to her up until you started telling her that she's developing a pattern and that she is now a quitter...." He said, "Well, that's just a pattern I've noticed over two decades." As if he's the authority on life. I said, "Maybe so, but not in every case.....you know what? Just leave Emily alone. You don't seem to be capable of apologizing without backing up every insulting thing you said. So just forget it." He said, "No, I want to tell her that I wasn't trying to be condescending...." I interrupted him again, "Yes, you were!" He continued to try to back what he said, "Kids who stay in karate become good at everything in life. I'm not sure how taking art classes are going to help her learn anything about the difficulties she's going to encounter..." I snapped, "Tell me something! Do you like to dance?" He kind of wobbled his head from side to side as if to say, "Sort of." I continued, "Do you like to draw? Do you paint? Do you like to fix cars? Do you like to cook? No? You don't? Well, just because you don't like to do those things does not make you a loser. Maybe you tried them a few times and decided that while they were fine for some people, they might not be your thing. That does not make you a quitter!  Just because karate isn't her thing, she is not a quitter!"  At this point, Emily walked over. Master Lerma bent down to her level and said, "Emily, I just want you to know that I wasn't trying to belittle you or be condescending to you. And I want to apologize to you if that's how it seemed." Emily said okay, and I said, "Okay, Emily. Let's go." Master Lerma turned around and said, "Okay, you guys have a good weekend." I said, "You, too." And we left.

I know that the only reason the man even attempted to make things right was because money talks, and his wife had a $700 check that she was just told to hold off on cashing. The guy obviously has a problem. I don't doubt that there are kids who could benefit from his tough tactics and school of hard knocks stories. But my child is not one of them, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let him have another chance at my kids.

I realize that this whole post might sound self-righteous. Like I think I've got a perfect child who just chose not to continue karate, when really she wimped out. But that's not the case. To wimp out would have been to give up when she was uncomfortable - she didn't do that. She stuck it out until we gave her the option to continue or to stop. Again, I think for this story to really strike a chord, you might have to know Emily. She did not deserve to be spoken to like that by that man. He who cures ADHD and bi-polar disorder through karate alone. So we talked to Owen at dinner last night, and I asked him if he wanted to continue karate. He said that he did, so I told him that we'd have to find a different place. He asked why, and I just basically said that I wasn't happy with the way Master Lerma handled things and talked to kids. Owen asked if he was going to have to start over as a while belt at a new place, and I told him I wasn't sure - that we'd look into it. He seemed satisfied with that, so that's where we stand. My mom put a stop payment on her check this morning, just to be safe, and she's going to call them this afternoon and tell them to tear it up. Fortunately, Emily seems fairly unphased by the whole thing. She said that what he said did make her feel bad, but she got over it rather quickly. Good for her.

Someone is breaking in!

~I would like to state, for the record, that Eric Ford claims that this story is completely false and never took place..~

On Friday night, Eric and I went to see The Hunger Games with our friends, Peter and Jessica. We had tickets to the 7:15 show, and although I'd already bought the tickets on Fandango, we decided we better get there early since it was opening night and bound to be really crowded. I wanted to get there around 6:00 just to be on the safe side. I've got plenty of games to play on my phone to keep me occupied for an hour, and I told Eric to just bring his new little PlayStation thing. (PlayStation Vita - see, Eric? I do pay attention to your gaming stuff!)

My mom picked the kids up from school and took them to her house for a sleepover, so I was at home alone, sitting on my bed with my laptop just relaxing and enjoying the quiet for a little while that afternoon. I wasn't sure when Eric was going to make it home from work. Most nights he works pretty late, then he has a 40 mile commute on top of that, so I kind of anticipated having to wait in line at the movies without him, and him just arriving whenever he could get there. So I was surprised (and happy) when the dogs started barking and he walked into the bedroom around 4:45.  It's very rare for him to be able to get home from work early like that, and when it does happen, it always makes me happy. He still had some work to do, emails to answer, phone calls to make, etc., so he lay down on the bed next to me and started answering emails from his phone while I browsed Facebook on my laptop. We lay there like that peacefully for a few minutes.....until the silence was broken by one of the longest, loudest farts I've ever heard in my life. My jaw dropped and I started cracking up. I looked at Eric. "What in the world was that?!" I asked him. He laughed too, and said, "I don't know. It's been happening all afternoon."

Now I have to admit that I have the maturity of a twelve year old boy when it comes to stuff like this. I really do. (Much to the chagrin of my dad, and probably many other people who are shaking their heads right now saying, "How low-class and vulgar for Mickie to talk about this!")  I can't help it though. I don't know if it was having two older brothers or what, but I am just like an immature little boy when it comes to farting and burping. Don't get me wrong - I don't go around doing it in front of people or anything. Well, I take that back - I do burp like a truck driver - but only in the privacy of my own home or vehicle. But when I hear someone fart, I giggle like a little kid. In fact, it's one of the only things that is guaranteed to get me to laugh. Case in point - a few weeks ago at school pick up - I was standing at the school, chatting with a couple friends as we waited for the bell to ring, and there is this long, low cement wall that curves around the courtyard area where we stand. We were standing probably a good twelve to fifteen feet away from the wall, and there were several people sitting on it, with their backs to us, waiting for the kids to come out.  There was an older Indian couple sitting there, and as my friends and I stood there discussing Whitney Houston's death and the fact that the governor of New Jersey was going to fly the flags at half mast that day, I heard this long, high-pitched whining noise coming from the man sitting on the wall. I whipped my head in that direction and continued to listen as the man emitted this long, extended hiss of an unapologetic fart that seemed to last forever. My jaw dropped as I turned back to my friends. I just stood there staring at them. Finally I said, "Did you hear that?" They both stared back in shock as they nodded. We all looked at each other, and while my friends started to kind of snicker, I just lost it. I started laughing so hard I could hardly stand up. My knees felt weak and I couldn't catch my breath. Through my peals of laughter, I said, "He didn't even react!" Getting a kick out my my reaction, they both started laughing harder. "Oh my gosh," I squealed, "It was like a slow leak - I wasn't even sure if it was real at first!" I wiped at the tears leaking from my eyes as I stood there laughing. My friends were laughing too, but it was the shocked, wide-eyed expressions on their faces that really got to me, and just as I started to settle down, I lost it again. I have a tendency to pee my pants when I laugh really hard, and I literally laughed so hard that I had to run behind a pillar to squat down and try to compose myself so I didn't wet my pants. (Plus, I didn't want to embarrass the man by shrieking and cackling - however he's the one who just farted for like thirty seconds and didn't seem the least bit embarrassed, so I'm not sure why I was worried about him.) Anyway, suffice it to say that farts really tickle my funny bone.

So after Eric let that one rip in our bedroom, I giggled for a minute or two, then went back to whatever I'd been doing on my laptop at the time. He continued to work and we sat there peacefully, until.....he did it again! This one just as long and forceful as the first. I, of course, laughed again, and said, "What is going on with you?" Eric looked at me seriously, and said, "I have no idea. It's like I'm just full of air - I can't seem to get all of it out." After the third one, even I started to kind of get grossed out. I looked over at him and said, "What the heck did you eat today?" He said, "Dried cherries and a banana. That's all I had time for." I said, "Well, obviously the dried cherries are doing a number on you. Jeez!" We stayed at home for maybe another thirty minutes and I seriously lost count of how many more times it happened. If I grow tired of laughing at it, then you know it's a serious situation.

We got to the theater and stood in line with a million giddy teenagers and adults, and I got so intrigued by this weird man holding a dishtowel over his arm like a butler as he stood in line behind us, that I all but forgot about Eric's gas problem. (And it was loud enough in there to drown out any noises he might have been making. Now, this is gross, but I'm sure some of you are wondering....for some reason, there was no gross smell attached to this gas situation of his. Just lots of loud, powerful noise. Thank goodness for small favors!) Once we went into the theater, the four of us spread out among seven seats because I'd promised to hold three for another friend from school who was coming with some of her girlfriends. They were going to dinner first, so they were sure to wind up in the front row if we didn't hold something for them. They arrived a few minutes before the movie started, and we moved down to make room for them on the aisle. We sat in a row - I was on the far left, then Jessica next to me, then her husband Peter next to her, then Eric, and then our other friend and her friends. Once the movie was over, the four of us went outside to decide where to grab a quick bite for dinner. We had separate cars, so once we made our decision, we split up into our own cars and headed to the restaurant. As soon as we got in the car, Eric forced out another long, seriously loud fart. "Oh my gosh!" I said. "You are still having problems?!" Then all at once I panicked, "Please tell me you weren't farting in the movies!" I imagined him sitting down at the opposite end from me, farting in front of these other moms from school that I don't know very well. He laughed and said, "No. I held it in," then he winced and let loose again, "which is why I am doing it right now!" I looked at him in disgust, "I don't think you should eat dried cherries again. This is just getting gross. It's not even funny anymore!" He laughed at me, and said, "What, you think I like this? It's not like I can help it!" I said, "I know, but seriously....it's getting out of hand. Don't fart in the sushi place, please." He raised his eyebrows and nodded, and the conversation was over.

We had dinner in our regular hole in the wall sushi place, and had a crazy experience in there (I'm still trying to write about that one - it just isn't translating as weird and crazy as it really was), then said goodnight to our friends and headed home. We got home and into bed around midnight, and since Eric was really tired from his busy week, he fell asleep immediately. I read for a little while before finally falling asleep about thirty minutes later. I was sound asleep when, around 3am, I heard a huge crash downstairs. I woke up with my heart pounding. Not moving any part of my body except my arm, I punched Eric in his side to wake him up. "Hey!!!" I hissed in a whisper. "What?" he groggily answered. "I just heard a really loud noise......I think someone is breaking in!" I said. He seemed to doze off again, so I punched him harder. "Hey!!!" I whispered again. Someone is breaking into our house!"  Eric opened one eye and looked at me. "No they're not. I just farted." I looked at him, and saw him slowly smile as he looked at me with one eye open. "Oh my gosh! What in the world? That is what I heard?" I yelled. Too tired to discuss it any further, I rolled over, with my heart still pounding at the imagined burglars downstairs, and went back to sleep. My husband is never allowed to eat dried cherries and a banana at the same time ever again. End of story.

Eyelash Perm

Today I got an eyelash perm. Sounds weird, huh? The first time I heard that term I envisioned tiny little perm rollers attached to each eyelash. Then I imagined the end result to be a bunch of coiled, wavy eyelashes, like the curly hair on a poodle or something. This is actually the second time I've had it done.

Let me back up though and tell you why I even considered doing such a weird thing. First of all, eyelashes are big right now. If you look at any celebrity or anyone who gets made up lately, they've got big false lashes on. And I have to admit, they do make your eyes pop. But I have never been good at make-up. Especially mascara. I put a tiny little layer on and I'm good. If I even try to use one of those thickening ones or lengthening formulas, I end up just looking like I've got spider webs on my eyes and I feel like a total fool. I don't even try to put a second coat on. Just one quick swipe of my Clinique wand and I'm done messing with the stuff.

But sometime over the summer I looked at my mom while we were playing in the pool with the kids, and I did a double take. Her eyes looked really nice - her lashes looked long and it almost looked like she had eyeliner on, but I know my mom doesn't really wear eyeliner. (Plus, we were in the pool, so I knew she wouldn't have put make-up on to get in the pool.) I said, "Do you have eye make-up on?" She said no. I said, "No eyeliner?" She said no. Then I started to wonder if she got eyeliner tattooed on her eyes (which would be totally unlike my mom - I honestly couldn't even imagine her doing that), but I asked her anyway, "Did you get tattooed eyeliner? She said no. I said, "Man. Your eyes look really good -  like something is different. She said, "It's the eye drops that I use. They make my eyelashes really thick and full." I nodded appreciatively and went back to yelling at my kids for getting my hair wet in the pool. And like so many other things in my life, my brain completely forgot that conversation.

Fast forward a few weeks and I was sitting at a table chatting with my friends at the gym, as we always did after our Tuesday class, and the topic of make-up or eyelashes, or something, came up. I don't remember how it started, but I piped in my complaint that my eyelashes and eyebrows were so light that you could hardly see them. And also that they weren't very full. My friend Liz asked if I'd ever tried Latisse. I said that I hadn't. She said that it really worked. I got kind of excited and said, "Ooh...maybe I'll get some! I've been seeing commercials for that!" I was under the impression that it was a prescription that I had to get from my doctor, so I asked Liz if she went to the eye doctor to get it or what. I guess I was naive enough to think that all it would take was a quick request to my doctor when I went in for my next migraine appointment; that he'd call it in and I'd pay my $5-$10 co-pay and I'd be on my way to thicker, longer lashes. Nope. I was wrong. Although the Latisse does require a prescription, you can't just get it from your doctor and pay a co-pay. No. You have to buy it from a medical spa or one of those places. I'm sure my doctor would have gladly written a prescription for it, but I'd still be stuck paying the $200 retail price of the stuff.  Liz told me where she got it, and that she waited until they were having a sale so that it would be half off and she'd only have to pay $99 instead of $199. Disappointed, I said, "Oh well....nevermind. It was worth a shot." Liz kind of sighed and said, "Yeah, it's expensive." Then all at once she perked up, and said, "Hey! Do you know anyone with glaucoma?" I sat up taller in my chair, too. "Why?" I asked her. She told me that the drops they use for glaucoma contain the same active ingredient as Latisse. Excited by the possibility of getting my hands on someone's glaucoma medication (and not that kind of glaucoma medication - I see the obvious joke here), I wracked my brain trying to think. Liz and I were sitting straight up in our chairs with our foreheads wrinkled as we thought. I deflated back into my chair, as I said, "No.....I guess I don't." Liz sat back in her chair, too. "Oh well." Then Liz and I got a laugh out of the fact that we were both so shallow to be disappointed that none of our loved ones had glaucoma. And that was the end of that.

But then, a few days later I was going about my daily business when all at once it hit me. My mom! She had glaucoma, and she used those drops! That was why her lashes were so full and thick that I'd thought she'd been wearing eye makeup in the pool! I wondered if she could get me any of her drops! So later that week, when the kids and I were over there swimming again, I asked her about the drops. I said, "Hey, Mom. You know those eyedrops you use for the glaucoma?" She said, "The Lumigan?" I said, "I don't know what it's called, but the stuff that makes your lashes thick." She said, "Yeah, that's the Lumigan." I said, "Yeah, that stuff! Do you ever have any extras leftover?" She laughed and said, "Oh you're trying to get your hands on it now?" I said, "Well, only if you have any extra." She said, "My friends have been trying to get it from me for a long time, but I never really have extra." She said, "When I'm due for a refill, I'll just give you the bottle that's almost empty. It doesn't take much, and you don't have to do it every day. In fact, I think I have a bottle in the bathroom right now that's about half full. You can have that one, and then I'll just pass the old ones on to you." I was excited! In the big picture, it's such a small thing, but I was kind of excited about the prospect of longer lashes.

So my mom started giving me her almost empties of Lumigan and Liz brought me some little brushes to apply it with, and I was off to the races! (My mom drops the drops right into her eyes, but if you're using it just to enhance your lashes, all you have to do is brush it across them every couple of days.) I wasn't very good about remembering to do it though, and then I read online that one of the possible side effects of Lumigan was that it could darken the irises of your eyes. That freaked me out  a little. My eyes are green, and they've never been anything special at all - but the idea of them suddenly getting dark kind of made me uneasy. So the Lumigan sat on my bathroom counter for a few months. I'd brush a drop on my lashes every so often, but not frequently enough for it to really have a chance to work. After a few months passed and I hadn't put enough effort into it for anything to happen I got kind of mad at myself. Here I had this cool product that a lot of women would love to have, and I wasn't even using it. I'm notorious for this though - case in point is the box of white strips I purchased from my dentist, so excited about whitening my teeth, and then only used one night because I just can't be bothered to stick that little strip in my mouth before going to bed. I'm really not such a girly-girl. I love the idea of the cute hair and the fun make-up, etc. But I'm not really willing to learn how to do it, or to go through the hassle of most of it. I'm most comfortable in my workout clothes with my hair in a ponytail and no make-up on.

So after several months I decided to really give the stuff a try, darker irises be damned. I began to brush it across my lashes every morning after I washed my face. I did it religiously, although I was not noticing any effects. Every morning, a quick swipe, and then, after about two months, it seemed like overnight my lashes were long! I could even see the new growth on the ends of them, like new fronds unfurling on a houseplant or something. They were both longer and fuller! I was so excited! I enjoyed my longer lashes for several months, but was sort of disappointed at the fact that, although they were longer, because they were so light, I was really the only one who could see them. And then I was also having minor mascara issues because they were so long that when I'd put on mascara, it would get all over my brow bones because the lashes were long enough to reach up there. I still liked having them longer, but it was almost more of a hassle than anything else.

Eric and I had a wedding to go to in January, and I needed to get my brows waxed, so I went into the local brow threading place to have that done. When I was in there, the lady asked me if I wanted her to tint my eyebrows. I'd had that done way back in my early twenties and remembered liking it, so I said sure. So after she finished ripping the hairs on my face out with a piece of thread (ouch!), she tinted my eyebrows. And I was really happy with it. Like my lashes, my brows are also naturally blond, so they kind of disappear into my forehead. After enjoying my new darker brows for several days, I suddenly remembered that years ago, when I'd had my brows tinted, I'd also had my lashes tinted. (You know, back in my early twenties, when all my disposable income went to Nordstroms and frivolous things because I worked full time and lived with my parents.) So I looked on Yelp for a place to get my lashes tinted, and ended up stumbling across iCandy salon in Walnut Creek. I perused their website and then found this other thing called an eyelash perm. I was intrigued! What was that?  So I started doing some research and basically found that they wrap your lashes kind of around a curling rod (similar to an eyelash curler, but without the little finger holes) and then swipe some perming solution across your lashes. This causes the lashes to stay in the curled position, and voila! Semi-permanently curled lashes! No more using an eyelash curler, and, if I also got them tinted, no more mascara at all! I was really intrigued by the whole thing, but a little leery, so, as is typical with me, I researched it to death. I found pros and cons on discussion boards. The only cons really, were the people who just thought it was crazy to be putting any type of toxic solution near your eyes. Which I get. It does seem stupid. If the person applying the stuff is careless, it could potentially hurt your eyes. But I wasn't able to find any instances of that actually happening on these discussion boards. It's $40, so I thought, why the heck not?

So I made the appointment for later that week and went in. The process is sort of long. There are several steps that need to be made, and there is a waiting process in between each one. When I went, I was the only customer in the salon (they also do make-up and waxing and other beauty treatment type stuff), and because it took so long, and your eyes are pretty much taped shut, I kept falling asleep. They have you lying in a chair, kind of like a dentist chair, so it's kind of hard not to doze off. Which is fine - it's peaceful enough, right? Except for the fact that when I fall asleep, I tend to make all kind of weird noises and jerk my body around like I'm being electrocuted. So I kept waking myself up and wondering if anyone else heard me. (I was blind, remember? So I couldn't tell if anyone was in the room with me or not! It was kind of embarrassing. Also, my stomach kept growling.)

Anyway, once she finished, I was really happy with the results. I was told that it would last about 4-6 weeks, and it seems like that was about right. It was kind of nice being able to roll out of bed in the mornings, brush my teeth, wash my face and head to the gym looking like I was awake and actually had some make-up on! It wasn't a drastic change, but enough to where I felt like it was worth it! Once it wore off, my friend Danielle told me she wanted one too, so I made us appointments and we went today. It was a lot more fun being with a friend, because we were both lying there blinded and we didn't have to worry about falling asleep because neither one of us stops talking long enough for that to happen. The girl said that they are hoping to open a salon in Danville, which would be great.

I tried to take some pictures, but I can't really get a decent shot of my own eyes up close with my iPhone. I'll post one though. It's really nothing drastic, nothing like eyelash extensions or false lashes, but still, with no make-up on (I'm not wearing any make-up in this picture) I like the fullness the perm offers. I'm sold!

Why me?

Yesterday I had a dentist appointment. I really don't like going to the dentist -  I don't really know anyone who does though. The only thing I remotely enjoy is getting the nitrous oxide while I'm there. It's mandatory as far as I'm concerned. It's the only thing that makes me bearable for me. So I make sure that I go to a dentist who provides that to me.

Yesterday's appointment was just to get my teeth cleaned. I arrived, gave my name to the receptionist and took a seat in the small waiting area. There were about eight chairs in the waiting area, in the shape of an L. A minute after I walked in, a family walked in behind me - a man and his wife and their little girl. The little girl was just a baby, really. She was probably fifteen months old, and really cute. The man sat down near me, and the little girl climbed into the chair next to him. I smiled at her and said hi, and started to ask her if she saw the ducks outside. After the wife checked them in, she came to take a seat. Just as she sat down, the husband stood up and walked out the door. I had my face in my phone so I wasn't totally paying attention to what was going on, but I noticed his wife make a weird face, like, "Well that was weird." The little girl was trying to get my attention, so I started talking to her again. A couple minutes later the man came back in. He went up to the counter and leaned down to talk to the receptionist. I could hear him saying, "I'm going to need to re-schedule. I am supposed to have an appointment today, but I'm afraid I'm going to be sick." I could see the receptionist visibly recoil as he leaned over her. She said, "Okay, no problem. Do you just want to call to reschedule?" I could tell she wanted him out of there as soon as possible. He said, "No, I'm here, let's just reschedule now." So she starts typing in her computer. Meanwhile I'm sitting there in a mild form of panic. I have major throw-up phobia. Most of you know this about me. For those of you who don't, I go into more detail here.) I'm watching the receptionist scramble to make an appointment for him as I watch him go from mildly pale to pasty white to almost green. The receptionist throws out a date at him. He turns his back to her, and toward me, and puts his hand over his mouth! Oh my gosh. Not only am I about to witness this man throwing up, but he's about to literally do it on my lap. I was frozen to my seat. I know this is kind of funny, and fortunately after the fact I can see the humor in the whole situation, but when it's happening there ain't nothing funny about it! At all! So he holds his hand over his mouth for a minute, then chokes out, "No, it has to be a Monday." Luckily, at that moment, the dental assistant stuck her head around the corner and called my name. I bolted out of my chair, grabbed my purse and practically ran over to her. As we walked around the corner and safely out of sight and hearing distance from the waiting room, I tried to recover a bit. I exchanged pleasantries with the dental assistant and sat down in the chair with relief. As she got all her stuff prepared, I reminded her that I needed nitrous, and  then I gazed out the window at the Canadian goose that was sunning himself in the parking lot as I tried to relax.

I had a little talk with myself as I sat there, reminding myself that I needed to remember not to get too tripped out by the nitrous.  Because what happens is they turn it on, and within about 30 seconds I'm flying so high that it freaks me out and I have to ask them to lower it. Apparently I get tripped out over a pretty low dose of the stuff, so then they turn it down, and once I've gotten used to it, then I don't get the full effects of it because they turned it so low, and I never have the nerve to ask them to turn it back up.  So I told myself that this time I was going to just relax and go with it, and that after I got over the initial freak-out, I'd settle in and it would help me relax for my appointment. But I had working against me the fact that my heart was still racing from the sick guy in the waiting room, so I was already a bit tripped out. I continued to watch the goose through the floor to ceiling windows directly in front of me, as the dental assistant came over and put the nitrous mask over my nose. That goose was oblivious to everything going on around him and was literally lying right in the middle of the path of traffic in the parking lot. I don't know why I get such a kick out of animals, wildlife in particular, but it is always a highlight of my day to be driving along and see sheep in the pasture or a bunch of turkeys in my neighborhood. The hawk that sits on the streetlight every morning as I go to the gym always makes me smile too. I just love animals, so I was happily watching the goose sunbathe as I began to breathe the nitrous. I was settling in and starting to relax and almost enjoy myself as I suddenly see the sick dude and his wife and daughter round the corner, having just come out of the building. I try to will myself to look away, because I have a feeling I know what's going to happen, but I can't do it. It's like my eyes are involuntarily drawn to him. His wife splits off in a different direction with the baby and they get into a car. The guy literally runs to the bushes directly across from me and proceeds to spend the next fifteen minutes getting sick right outside the window! I closed my eyes, but by then it was too late - the damage was done. I raised my hand and asked the dental assistant to turn down the nitrous, lest I end up in the ER because of a bad trip. Who, I ask you.....who but me can have a bad drug trip on nitrous oxide in a controlled safe environment? No one!  This is one reason I've never done drugs. Aside from all the other reasons not to do them, I just know I literally could not handle it!

So, I finished my dentist appointment with the nitrous set too low, as usual. The good news (I'm being sarcastic here) is that they found a minor cavity, so I go back tomorrow to get that filled and I'll have one more chance to actually enjoy my safe, legal high. Let's hope I don't run into any sick people in the waiting room this time to ruin it for me. PS- I 'm not as heartless as I sound - I do feel bad for the poor, sick guy. That's the absolute worst - to be sick when you're not in the comfort of your own home - but this isn't about him. It's all about me. ;-)

It Takes a Village

Last night Eric went to the Sharks game. The kids had talent show practice at the school until 4:30, and I'd been running errands all day, so when they got home around 4:45, I decided that we'd just head out for a bite to eat. We went to our local hole-in-the-wall sushi place, and after we ate, the kids begged to go to The Yogurt Shack. Since it's right behind the sushi place, sometimes we'll treat them to frozen yogurt after sushi. But last night I didn't feel like the ordeal of going to the yogurt place, so we compromised with a trip to the cute little candy shop in town. I told them they could get one thing in there, and they were happy with that. Since they have issues with cavities, I really try to limit the candy. But everyone deserves some candy once in a while, right?

So off to the candy shop we walked. Downtown Danville is a very cute little town. I held tight to the kids' hands as we crossed the road, and went into the brightly lit, colorful shop. They have lots of fun stuff in there, lots of bulk candy, a case with fudge, and many display tables with everything from retro candy bars to funny greeting cards. Of course with Valentines Day drawing near, there were plenty of choices for your sweetheart, too.

My kids were overwhelmed by the choices, and took forever to pick something. They finally both settled on flavored powder that was dispensed into a straw - kind of like Pixy Stix. I helped them fill their straws with various flavors of powder, and we headed to the cash register. In front of us in line was a teenage boy - he was probably about thirteen. He was kind of at that awkward stage that teenagers go through. He was a little chubby and had perpetually red cheeks. He was wearing a flannel shirt and cargo shorts, with a stocking cap on his head. He was buying a red, heart-shaped tin filled with chocolates and a special red soda in a bottle. As the salesgirl rang him up, she looked at the soda and said, "Is this a gift?" The boy nodded. She said, "Is it a Valentine's Day gift for a girl?" He mumbled yes. The cashier hesitated. "Um....well, I'm not sure if this is something you should get. This bottle of soda kind of has some raunchy stuff written on the label. Did you see the label? "The boy looked confused and kind of just stared at her. The cashier tried again. "I just think the girl might be mad if you gave this to her." By this time I'm trying my hardest to get a good look at the bottle of soda, but I couldn't see it. Meanwhile, the kid held his hand out and took the bottle from the salesgirl - he looked like he had no idea what to do. Suddenly his mom came up out of nowhere and fussed at him. "What are you doing" she asked him. "If you changed your mind you need to move because you are holding up these people in line behind you!" He said, in a half-whisper, "Mom, no....she said...." And as he was trying to explain, the salesgirl piped in and said, "Oh no...he's not holding up the line. I was just making sure he knew what was on the bottle, and asking him if he really wanted to give that as a gift." The mom looked confused and said, "What? Why?" The salesgirl continued, "I mean....he probably didn't even know what it meant - well, I hope he didn't know what it meant!"  By now I'm craning my neck so hard I'm about to pull a ligament, but I still can't see the bottle! The mom reached up and took the bottle of soda from her son and took a good look at it. Her eyes widened. "Oh! No. You can't get that!" She handed it to her son, "Go put that back!" She looked at me. I smiled at her, and she said, "Wow! I'm glad she noticed that. Wow. It really does take a village, huh?" I kind of chuckled and shrugged since I had no idea what the bottle said. The salesgirl put the boy's tin of chocolates to the side so she could ring me up while he picked out a different bottle of soda. Since he took the red soda with him, I never did see what it said!

Lucky for me, the candy shop happens to be right by where my kids go to karate, so tonight, just before going to karate, I popped back into the candy shop to hunt down that mysterious bottle of red soda. I found it on a display by the front door.....

Um.....yeah. If I had a thirteen year old daughter and she came home from school with this bottle of soda that a boy had given her.....well....good thing there was a "village" in that candy shop last night!

Everyone deserves a friend.

My kids have been going to the same school now for three years....well, this is our third year there. (Owen is in second grade now, and he started attending the school in kindergarten. Emily is in her second year there.) The mode of our pick up and drop off routine has evolved with time. For the first two years, I dropped off and picked up, and because they stagger the start times of the younger grades based on reading level, most days I was making two trips there in the morning and two trips there in the afternoon. In the mornings, I'd normally park my car on a small cul-de-sac just across the street from the school and walk in with the kids. My friend Amy parked in the same area and we'd typically meet up at the crosswalk and walk into the school together. This year I'm actually doing a carpool with some neighbors, and it's worked out really well. My neighbor does drop off and I do pick up. Also, new for me this year, is using the pick-up circle when I pick up the kids. I just pull through the circle and wait for them, so I don't have to go through the hassle of parking the car and walking in. Because there are four of them coming out together, and because they are a little older now, I feel comfortable with the idea of not walking in and getting them anymore. Occasionally, I do still park and go in though, because honestly I miss being able to socialize with some of my other "mom" friends.

Anyway, back to Amy and I.....many days after we'd see the kids off to their respective classrooms, we would walk outside the gates of the school and stand on the curb by our cars, chatting. If we stuck around for more than two minutes, we'd inevitably have any number of walkers or joggers pass by us as we stood there talking. We'd move over on the sidewalk to make room for the jogging stroller to pass, or the woman with two Golden Retrievers, saying a pleasant hello to anyone who came by. Once we'd finish catching up, she'd get in her car to go to work or wherever her day took her, and I'd usually head to the gym.

I enjoyed that fifteen minutes of time standing there chatting with Amy. We could dish about school gossip, or complain about our kids, or just laugh about the ridiculous things that we think are so funny. On many of these mornings, in addition to the regular joggers and walkers that would pass by, there was someone else we loved to see.....he was a little rickety old man who shuffled along as he walked his Jack Russell Terrier. The old man was not very friendly, maybe even a little grumpy, and the dog? Well, the dog was just a piece of work. He was cranky and yappy - and he barked at everything he saw, straining at his leash to get at whoever was near him. The old man always kept hold of the leash though, and despite the dog's antics, he'd just continue shuffling down the street on their morning walk.  Amy and I would continue our conversation as the man and the dog would come in to view, but anyone watching us would be able to see that although we were talking to each other, our attention was drawn to the man and his dog. We'd smile and smirk as we'd see the dog launch itself at a mom trying to get out of her car to go into the school. The old man never reacted though - he just held tight to the leash and kept walking. One day, after the man and his dog had passed by, Amy looked at me and said, "I love that dog! He's just mad at the world!" I gleefully agreed, "Yes! He is! I love him too! He doesn't care what anyone else thinks! He is on his walk and he wants everyone to know how pissed off he is!" We'd stand there in silence for a minute, thinking about that little pissed off Jack Russell Terrier and how weirdly awesome he was, then we'd get back to whatever it was we'd been talking about. 

We liked the sightings so much that if one of us saw the man and his dog and the other wasn't there, we'd snap a picture on our phone and text it. It was just a silly little thing we both got a kick out of. We saw him a lot last year. This year though, Amy parks her car in a different area since her kids are in a classroom on the opposite side of the school, and since I don't do drop offs anymore, we haven't really had the opportunity to see that little old man and his grouchy dog. One day we were talking, "You know who I haven't seen in a long time?" she asked me. I said, "Who?" She said, "The man and the dog who's mad at the world!" I thought about it, "Oh....you're right. I haven't seen him either!" We speculated about the feisty dog and what he'd been up to, then he was all but forgotten.




But a few weeks ago, Amy came up to me after school and said, "Guess what?" I said, "What?" She said, "I saw the little old man the other day." I got excited, and said, "You did!? And the dog?" She said, "No, he didn't have the dog with him, so I went up to him and said hi. I said, 'Hi. Where's your dog? Didn't he feel like walking with you today?'" She said that the old man looked at her in confusion for a moment and snapped out, "What?" Amy repeated, "I noticed that your dog isn't with you. Is he okay?" Recognition dawned on the man's face as he said, sadly, "No. The county took him away." Amy sympathetically said, "Oh no! What happened?" The old man looked at her and said, indignantly, "Because he bit three people! That's why!"  When Amy relayed this to me, I had such mixed feelings. My first reaction was to crack up at the thought of that feisty little dog biting people, because obviously that was that dog's goal each and every morning! He wanted to bite someone, and he tried so hard every single day! Well, apparently he succeeded - and three times, at that! Good for him! But once I got over my initial snicker over the whole thing, I realized how sad that was. Sad for the people who got bit, obviously, because that's just got to suck. But also sad for that old man. That dog was his companion. And while I know he can't just go around with a biting dog every morning, I still felt very sad that he now had to take his walks without his mean little friend. It really is a sad outcome to the story. Now when I see the man walking alone, I just feel sad for him.

I think I'll give him Louis....