White Lightning Axiom: Redux: Red-light, Green-light, GO!

Monday, February 05, 2007


Red-light, Green-light, GO!

Yep, still alive. Really, this is no undead corpse crawling out of the musky soil to moan and groan about it's lot in 'unlife'. I had picked up some slack work in the project I've been on and it turned out that the specifications in the detail design were less than optimal. A little rework was required and that sucked the spare time out of my schedule like a Holstein calf on BGS in February. And you know, it IS February after all. Damn cold too. Not as cold as my purported youth in Minnesota mind you, but chilly enough to make the old tongue freeze to the flag-pole. I Double dog dare you to try it! Naw, I'll retract my urging so as not to heap any more despair upon my readership. A plague of oral injuries may not affect blogging, but it certainly would not garner me any undying love or admiration. But enough mindless banter, let me recap the last handful of days as the cohorts of the Family Haupertonian cavorted through life.

On last Wednesday night, I actually got to do some sparring in the Adult TSD class right up until the point where I nearly twisted my knee again. Then I was shut down like a roaring speak-easy in the clamorous caverns of Chicago's gangland landscape. NO. No blowing your knee out before your orange belt test, oh foolish grasshopper. I was benched from sparring till after the test. Good enough. Later that night, I arrived home to witness white fluffy gobs of snow falling like flakes of dandruff on an undertakers black cloak. It was dark and not particularly cold so the flakes immediately dissipated when striking a surface ... like some peculiar leakage from a cartoon fantasy world.

Thursday; more no-spar karate but earlier in the evening, Jovial Jake was acting out and got an earful of admonishment where upon he was reduced to sobs and tiny traces of tears trickling down his twisted veneer. Beneath, he was considering his options, but he knew that the bell was tolling and he needed to make a policy change if Master Smith was going to let him test for his yellow belt. He is a little boy after all and he will get what he wants by hook, crook or otherwise honest pursuit. Once again, I arrive at the manor closer to 2100 hours to look up and see a peculiar sky laced with glowing contrails framing an oddly full and heavy moon. So bright that it punctures the high, ethereal layer of clouds that blot out all but the brightest star. The weather is winding up for a hay-maker. I can feel it in my aching joints.

Friday. Alexis wanders in and settles between the mrs and I at 0130. The mrs tires of her antics some time around 0430am. I'm up at 0614, out by 0655, drop off kids at 0700, depart for work at 0705 and arrive at 0720. Perfect, flawless execution. Now, to make it a habit. In spite of the minor dusting of snow, there was little to foretell what that damn rat in Punxsutawney would forecast, but since he is forecasting for the entire country, he can be correct somewhere, but certainly not here. The days following his projection of an early spring have been confounded with the local temperatures dropping into the single digits. No snow ... just bitter, ripping cold. A good day to go and get a nice haircut so I can feel the wind scraping the heat from my scalp.

Saturday morning ... time for my Orange Belt TSD test. I'm up and bumming about when the Mrs tries to disabuse me of the notion that I have lots of time before I need to get going. She says the test is at 0900, I'm under the impression it is at 1000. I persist, and end up correct but not without stewing for 30 minutes about what amount of crow I'll have to eat should I be incorrect (as usual). And so it goes. I test, I pass, I spar and break boards. Not as unusually grueling at the first time, but I have a notion of what I'm in for so that knowledge is my weapon against what would seem to be an intolerable trial. And it is my birthday. Nobody dies on their birthday, right? We go out for pizza with some of the Black Belt Examining Board and have a jolly good time. Then, later in the evening, we go out to our favorite Japanese Hibachi restaurant. Not so much for the enjoyment of the Mrs and I, but more so for the children. For they will be occupied and they will eat their dinner without harassment. And this will make us happy. Joy is where you find it.

Sunday: Take kids to Sunday school. Escort them over the various sheets of black ice. They think that slipping and sliding is a treat of unparalleled amusement; I'm petrified of letting one of them fall. So, we make it inside and watch as various late-comers glide over the patches of ice in their AWD/ABS SUVs with abandon, nearly clipping the school building by the hair of a (frozen) gnat. Of course, a handful of people park their behemoths in the fire lane prompting me to scribble out a few notes begging them to not do so while there are children in the building. Nothing like indicting the neer-do-well with oblivious intent to do harm to children. I could have asked why they were so interested in leaving the Sunday mass so quickly to up the guilt ante as well. But then again, I'm just looking for compliance, not intending on influencing their conscience. Later, I did a solo doggie dip extraction and refilled the wood brackets for the wood burning stove (which is going full blast these days). What a splendid activity in the absurdly cold weather! As a capper, we went over the Family-Friends-Pete-n-Patty's house for the Superbowl where the Tyrants occupied themselves for 3 hours and left me to drink port wine and puff cigars in relative peace. Too bad about the Bears. And there you have it. Nothing to advance of great noteworthiness. No?

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