Watching from the car as my children and other students awaited the arrival of Siheng, I realized that a month had passed since last we had a Thursday with Pooh. First he was on vacation; then, we were college hopping. It was good to see him again.
But my children’s adopted local dad came back from vacation with a bee in his britches. No more socializing, goofing off, complaining, he lectured. His is an advanced class; it’s time to stop acting like beginners, he told the class. He took half of the blame for the relaxed atmosphere on his watch, but no more. Pooh was decidedly out of honey, yet no one seemed to mind.
It was a hard-working, focused session. My son leaves town on a high note for vacation with the grandparents; my daughter leaves with the worrisome realization that even with Pooh, who’s awfully fond of her, she’s going to have to act like a red sash – finally.
What’s the worst thing that could happen? She might get tapped for black sash testing earlier than she thinks.
Meanwhile, downstairs, Merle practiced all of her under sash forms to prepare for her first of twelve black sash tests. The kids are going to miss cheering her on for the first test but will have a front-row seat for number two. If all goes well, my better half and I will share the same black sash award anniversary weekend every January. That thought makes me grin until my cheeks hurt.
Speaking of hurt cheeks, there’s nothing like a form full of deep empty stances (at least four, by quick count) to make this woman more conscious of her ass than I ever wanted to be. I’ve spent so much time this summer concentrating on swinging the staff, running with it, walking with it, turning, etc. that I was temporarily oblivious to the pain that can be generated just standing still with it, like below. Of course the only reason they hurt so much is because this pose is much closer to the floor these days than it is here.
Progress can be painful… especially when the goofing off is done.