the goings on of Mitches.

I've been lazy putting thought to page of late, but it's been an eventful week or two. I'm currently watching the owner of The Diner Next Door hang his Christmas lights. He seems like exactly the kind of guy who would think that to be a good idea the day before Halloween. If that seems a little judgmental it's because he's been a colossal dick to my mother in the past and I'd imbibe a distinct amount of pleasure if he were blown off his ladder by a great gust of wind, or a misplaced semitic elbow. I haven't been that lucky lately.

Speaking of the impending holiday, I don't have a costume, which is unusual for me. I could always reuse last year's $3 awesomeness again, but that sort of seems like I'd be half-assing it. I may figure something out last minute. I have however reprogrammed the music that plays on your way into the restaurant to give our patrons a break from the " See you later alligator ." For the next twenty four hours they'll be treated to a little Monster Mash, followed by the This is Halloween theme from the Nightmare before Christmas, followed by whatever else I can dig up between now and tomorrow's opening. Must remember to put Thriller on that playlist. Digger's benefit show is tomorrow night at The Best Bar in Wheeling, 9 bands for worthy cause, plus it's Halloween.

In the continued adventures of trying to be a healthier and better Arab, I've rededicated myself to my martial arts class. After a decade and a half ,earning my blacks has become important to me. I'm sure there's some psychology behind this renewed effort, but mostly I think I want the opened doors that aren't available to me as a colored belt. To that end I attended our Head of Family's seminar this past weekend. My instructor's instructor was in from his home out west and gave a full day seminar focusing on some very practical hand to hand techniques. This guy's no joke, he just got tapped by a consulting company contracted by the Department of Homeland Security to build the hand to hand combat training regimen that's going to be taught to all the various federal and state agencies that fall under the purview of DHS. What I got from it was that if Sally the Meter Maid meets Achmed the Not-As-Yet-Martyred in a dark alley, she's going to at least have some basic knowledge on how to put the guy down. The other thing I got from the seminar was a pair of broken metacarpals courtesy of a misplaced stick strike. It's not bad enough to warrant a cast, but shifting the Rav4 has been a bit of a bitch all week. I've missed coming home all bruised and bumped, it's a term of respect and affection in this group. When I was in high school our class was bigger and you could always tell who was in it because the day after any good class the senior most students would come to school with red welts across our arms and faces from the foam covered PVC redman sticks we used for stick sparring. Those nights made for some interesting stories.

I went back to Yoga tonight. In the past it's been me and bunch of women, tonight however was me, two other joes, and eight guys from the Wheeling Nailers. I'd like to say I held my own, but these guys are semi-professional athletes and I'm just semi-professional. It's inspiring in it's own way. Work harder because these guys have been doing it longer and it's easier for them.

I'm in dreadful need of a shower, perhaps later I'll post the story of bathing Ampersand.