Few attended Friday’s karate class as a bunch of students and the instructor went to a tournament in the Poconos. The sadistic guest instructor was back. Too much of his energy was directed at me and too much of the time was spent on his adventures in bouncing at a local bar and his idea of what a martial artist should be. I hate that these teenage kids are being taught that they are in constant danger and should be wound like a spring ready to attack. Anyway, the guy asked a bunch of unnecessary questions that seemed to be mainly directed at me. He asked everyone’s ages, he asked if any of us had “significant others” (yeah, I’m sure he wants to know if the 15-year-olds have love lives) and he point blank asked me my weight. He took a lot of glee in telling me that I was older than him and that he weighed 100 lbs more than me. He claimed that all that weight was packed on a frame about 5” taller than mine, but I would eat my shoe if he was more than an inch or two taller than me. He described a meditation technique where you are supposed to picture black numbers coming up on a white screen and maintain a focus on them and to enhance it, you can imagine a hand coming in and placing the numbers before you. I asked him if once you get to 10, you should really imagine two hands. He called me a smart ass. He finally let us go from the class a half hour late after telling us disgusting stories about samurai.

So, I go to my parents’ house where my grandpa has usurped my bedroom and my parking place and feels the need to take advantage of my vulnerable sleeping location by waking me up at the crack of dawn on a Saturday morning. On Sunday, he tromped in his rubber soled church shoes and watched for any promising sign of movement in me. I know he was there because I could hear him breathing and I kept my back to him and played dead. When I finally did get up, he informed me that there was a nice young man who was single and very polite that he knew. I gave an exasperated “Grandpa, . . .” when my mom interrupted me and told him that I didn’t want him looking for a boyfriend for me and that I didn’t really want one right now anyway. I’m glad that she stopped me because I was tempted to say a number of things that he probably would have found offensive or hurtful.

I went shopping on Saturday with my mom. We had a good time. When we got home, I lay on the couch and watched Evita and napped until it was time to go to my mom’s friend’s house with memories of Maddy and singing Evita songs running through my head. My mom’s friend and her husband built a house along the river that runs through the area where I grew up and eventually into Pittsburgh. They used river rocks on the foundation, hearth and chimney of the house set way down in a remote spot that is nearly impossible to reach in winter and even a bit treacherous now. As darkness fell, we sat bullshitting around a fire that burned more blue than yellow. We told stories and jokes between listening to the sounds of the animals in the river or the owls in the woods. I fully enjoyed my time there, but I also wished for Julio and the chance to sit by a fire like this one with him.

Yesterday, I talked to Carlos and planned a time to meet for our date next Saturday. I am seriously going to have to fight the urge to tell him what he is doing wrong with women. Maybe, I shouldn’t fight it and I should just go ahead and tell him why he is a 32-year-old virgin. He needs to go on Date Patrol. Miss Kitty and I discussed how Dr. Frenchfry might benefit from that too. He’s getting to be rather creepy lately.

Ooh, I also started reading The Lovely Bones and I am creeped out and drawn in all at the same time. I’m thinking that Peth said she bought it recently. I am interested in learning her opinion of the book.

Well, I guess that is all for now.

Love to all.