White Lightning Axiom: Redux

Yesterday and and this past evening really amounted to very little. Wake, Drive, Work, Drive, Swim, Drive, Karate, Karate, Drive, Put the kids to bed, Stoke fire, Sleep. Yep. That mendacity is pretty much the gears of my week-days. I should not complain though, it's what I aspired to. Of course, the adult class was mostly sissy exercise at till I get an approbation to resume foot-work from Master Ken. Calisthenics and '6 inches' was the limit to my participation with the rest of the class. I could participate in the rest of the instruction with the explicit warning that my feet do not leave the floor. That is all good and well provided that I pay attention to what I'm doing with the forms. The punctilios of appropriate form vex me greatly when restricted by the various splints, braces and support girders. Robo-Cop is a fleshy lump of the supple and free flowing movement compared to my staccato manner wrapped within my own cybernetic cocoon.

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