Spring Cleaning

March 25, 2017 by Rieshy

Each spring I want to rent a humongous, ridiculous, turbo powered leaf blower; open the front and back doors of my house and blow the entire contents of my dusty wintery home to the curb.

I also wish I could do that with my brain.  There are so many things I want to learn, so many goals that I set for myself.  Taken singly each are awesome and accomplishable.  Accomplishable is probably not really a word but that's o.k. because when lumped together and attempted in a jumble my goals are not accomplishable anyway.

Mental spring cleaning.  Physical spring cleaning.  Probably shouldn't attempt the two at the same time; I might find my own body lying by the curb.


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From The Dragons

March 4, 2017 by Rieshy

No Sarcasm, Just Logic.

While pointing at his knee, my sensei carefully demonstrated a neatly chambered and recoiled front kick for a weyr of awed Little Dragons. He then asked them what was really important in order to do the kick correctly.

Their hands shot into the air; bellies thrust out and excitement blazing.  The boy called upon to answer, proudly shouted his knowledge for the rest of the class, who nodded in sage agreement, "YOU HAVE TO HAVE LEGS!"

It's All About Your Goals.

As a Dragon left the school I gave him a high five for his hard work; as he passed by to the front door another sensei congratulated him on his focus.  His mom, trailing behind while juggling keys, a wallet and his dragon belt, looked up and said, "You did good but I want to see you snap more when you punch."  He responded happily and loudly enough for the whole dojo, "Yeah, but it was a great class Mom, I didn't get ANY wedgies!"

The Unfortunate Thing About Dojo Mirrors.

It's always a male Little Dragon with only brothers at home: why shut the rest room door?


Bending Light

February 28, 2017 by Rieshy

My superpower as a mother?

While grocery shopping for the week with three boys in tow I can put a huge box of chocolate candies in the cart, transfer it to the conveyor belt, pay for it, have it bagged, have my boys load it in the van, have them carry it to the kitchen and yet whisk it to safety WITHOUT them ever becoming aware of its existence.

Proof that invisibility can be cast by sheer strength of a mother's desperation to occasionally not share.


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Finishing Words

February 18, 2017 by Rieshy

Being a reader means mourning, often.  Hearing a voice that you've grown to know, that's rolled about in your head for pages and pages of years but is now finished.  Gone.

And you wake.  And look about, and real life seems a bit pale.   Your voice, in your own head, retains a slight accent or even the cadence of the book's voice.   You feel vague and restless.  Hungover.

Eat chocolate.  Do jujitsu.
Walk in sunshine.

When there's no chocolate, no jujitsu and no sunshine?

That's when being a reader is a really regretful thing.  You can no more solve the problem by picking up another book than you can adopt a new puppy to take place of a beloved aged dog that has finally died.

Haphazardly flipping back to a few favorite passages; walking about crankily and daydreaming of being a better person while fussing about muddy footprints in the den, because it's all about finishing the words.

Letting them roll hither and thither to finally settle.  Deciding if the voice was right or smart or even likable.

Finishing the words so that you can find your own voice again.


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Drip Coffee Joys

February 16, 2017 by Rieshy

The joys of parenting are small,
Drips and drips.
An automatic coffee maker.

From long ago fat toddler arms hugging my neck, skin on skin with a powdery scent; the joys have changed.
Superseding dirty socks left on sofas and curfew disagreements.

Watching my nine year old, the morning light glancing off his neck, make pancakes from scratch;
the family sized mixing bowl bigger than his body.
Resting while my fifteen year old does jump kicks.  Enjoying his dancer's spin and grace but basking in his smile after spinning flops.
Reading group texts amongst grown children
where they tease and plan get-togethers. And include me.

All drips, that make splashes
that fill my mug.


Conducting Drills

February 12, 2017 by Rieshy

Standing alone together,
moving in unison.
Awaiting cues while
straining sideway's vision.

Willing body parts to flow
and snap.
Not jerk and wobble.
Because muscle memory works both ways.

Listening for breathing.
Remembering to breathe
while imagining foes;
tickled by wayward brain's imagination.

Sweat incommensurate
with visible work.  Rumpled gi and
itchy eyebrow ignored.

Hoping belt doesn't fall completely off;
next cue almost missed.

Connected to everyone but
working from inside out:
Minute shifting, balance testing.
Intent searching.

What does that angle mean?

Energy sharing or draining,
conducting or insulating across the mats.
Line drills,




Funny Bellies

February 9, 2017 by Rieshy
Why are toddler bellies so cute?
It must be ingrained in us by God.  Hardwired for our species survival.

Last night at Karate a mom confessed.

"My 2 year old opened the staff fridge, and ate your chocolate. I'll bring you some more!"

I looked back with horror, because I have a lot of chocolate in the staff fridge.  A lot.  All a bit fancy and far more than any 2 year old could or should eat.

Dark,  lovely chocolate.
Chocolate rations.
Chocolate covered pumpkin seeds.
Chocolate covered chilis and chocolate with dried cherries.
Chocolate soul and body.  
Chocolate that I don't share with my own children.

Just how much did he consume?

"I hope he's going to be okay?" I gasped with dismay.  Dismay at both her probable evening full of a stomach-achy two year old and my chocolate loss.  Grief started to set in.  How could this happen?  When can I get to Trader Joe's again!?

Then I looked down.  The guilty one was standing beside her,  with a round full belly poking out between his tee-shirt and his pants.  He was holding her hand with a bit of chocolate smeared down his forearm and had the most cherubic satisfied chocolaty smile I've ever seen.

But the belly?  It was the belly.  It was so cute, so adorable.  I couldn't even hang on to annoyance much less grief.

The phrase, "A belly laugh" has a whole new dimension.
And it's a wonderful dimension full of dark chocolate.