The Karate Update: Hamstrung

Well, it was bound to happen.

Getting back into Karate has been awesome.  My kids are really digging it and have already advanced to white belt/green stripe.  I couldn’t be more proud.

The other guys from way-back-when and I are having a great time reminiscing about old times.  The other night, Kevin, one of the nicest bad-ass black belts you’ll ever meet, brought in some old newspaper clippings of us from 1985-1988.  We were in the paper more than I remembered it seems.

I was very impressed with the trophies (I am not sure where all of mine went?), but mostly I was impressed at how in shape I was.   If I knew back then how good I looked, I would have been impossible to be around.  Tan, fit, able to kick your butt.  It was so awesome to see myself at my best physically!!!

So what did I do to follow that awesome  feeling up?  Pulled a hamstring.  POP!  RIP!  OUCH!

Now, hamstrung with memories of rolling on the floor in pain, I look forward to getting back out there and creating some new memories with my kids.   Hopefully they won’t take 24 years to realize how awesome they are.

A Belt Holds up Your Pants (unless you don’t have any)

Over 20 years ago, I trained under a nationally ranked Instructor and earned a Brown Belt in an Americanized version the Chong do Kwan style of Taekwondo.

I repeat, 20 YEARS AGO!

As a teenager, I went because I thought it would help me get chicks.  It didn’t (my wit and charm did), but it taught me discipline, respect for my elders, and, most importantly, self-confidence.

We had a great school.  It was truly a family…my home away from home.  We would spend practically every weeknight sparring with each other and practicing our forms (kata).  It seems like every other weekend, we would all shuttle off to a tournament in Savannah or Atlanta.  We were actually a pretty good school, particularly in forms, and we would always come home with some hardware.

So, fast forward 20 or so years.  A good friend of mine, Joey, who went on to get his Black Belt at the same school, is now opening up a new school that is fast becoming my new home away from home.  Joey and I spend hours a night trying to get back into shape before the new school officially opens.  Many of those hours are spent remembering how limber we WERE, how much quicker we WERE, and how much, well, younger we WERE.  Though we both agree, we ARE much smarter now.

For the most part, my Brown Belt is coming out of retirement for my own selfish reasons.  I want to get the Black Belt.   It is not the end so to speak.  You don’t just finish at black, pack up and go home.  You see, it symbolizes a great deal more that I am frankly not gifted enough to express.

Our old teacher, Pat Duncan, used to say, “A belt just holds your pants up, it’s the knowledge that matters.”  Joey repeated that to me the other day.  I still have most of the knowledge….flexibility is another matter.

I suppose, however, that my greatest excitement in all of this is that both of my kids want to join.  They were so excited when the got their Gi (uniforms).  Their first lesson was how to tie the belt, how to bow and how to get in a solid front stance.

My hope is that they find the martial arts home that I had growing up.  I have often lamented on this blog about how different their childhood is and how the things that made up my childhood memories didn’t exist anymore.

This won’t be the same, nothing is, but it will be different in a good way…

A Father’s Weakness

This morning, my daughter broke down and bawled in my arms.

She hugged me harder than anyone ever has, as her tears soaked my shirt.  I asked her what was wrong and she replied, “I don’t know.  I’m not unhappy or anything.”  Confused, she let out a tear-muffled laugh.  She doesn’t know that her body is storing up hormones that will make her nuts.  She doesn’t know that she is growing up right before my eyes and that I am scared to death.

I squeezed her in my arms as if I was holding on for dear life.  My wife came in to see what was up.  I waived her off, not wanting to share this moment when my daughter needed her dad’s shoulder to soak up her tears.  It probably won’t be my last chance, but I couldn’t let her go.

My heart breaks because, no matter how hard we try, we will never be able to stop bad things from happening to those we love….and unsolicited hormone rushes in pre-teen girls are awful.  I felt helpless and needed all at the same time.  I felt like Holden Caulfield, trying to erase all the f–k you’s in the world…to no avail.

I have 3 older sisters, so I am KEENLY aware of how nutty teenage girls can be.  But, I don’t remember Amy being that crazy when she was 9.  I guess I was too busy killing invading aliens on my Atari to notice.   I notice now, and it really sucks.

I think I am lucky to be a guy.  Sure, some of my sisters’ attributes have rubbed off on me: I know who Laura Ashley is, I know not to wear seersucker after Labor Day, and I know how to braid hair, but I am very thankful that their hormones never rubbed off on me.

Y’all have it bad.

I Turned 40.

This past week I turned 40. 

I am at an age now that I don’t care what you think, and, yes, my age and hair color are finally synchronized.

I have a hot wife, great kids, awesome friends, and an amazing job and these facts make me very excited for the next decade.

To celebrate the end of my birthday week, I think I’ll act my age and go play video games at Chuck’s house.

Barbie Dolls, Stuffed Animals and Laura Ashley

My good friend, Laura, has graciously invited people to read my blog.  She writes for a local publication and is also featured in her own blog ( http://www.lauraleighpackardblog.com/ ).  I am affectionately known as “Mr. Buddy” in some of her writings and it is an honor.  She is sort of like a sister, except she didn’t know me when I was a jerk kid.

Her most recent article highlights a fun party that ended up with a horrific Barbie massacre.  You’ll have to read it all to see how this traumatic event turned into one of her best works.  The picture above was taken a few days later, but I think it captures the theme of a child growing up and, like Andy from Toy Story, putting aside toys that were once so important.   This transformation out of childhood is not such a traumatic event for the kids; but, as I witnessed the night of the massacre, it is a far more moving event for us parents.

Recently, I asked my daughter what she was going to wear for her first day of school.  She excitedly told me of her ensemble that included a grungy T-shirt with a Peace Sign on it (I cringed), khaki shorts, and Chuck Taylor’s with fluorescent shoe laces.  Ok.

My response, “Really?  What if I take you shopping and we pick out a nice, pretty dress?”

Her disdainful answer, “Dad!  Dresses are SO out of style!”

What happened to Laura Ashley?  My baby girl is growing up, and there is absolutely nothing I can do about it.

That is My Foot

It has been a while and I have been pretty busy. As I mentioned before, I gave my daughter my craptop, so I am blogging to you from the Droid.  It is Incredible.

This picture is my foot watching the kids swim at the village pool.

A few observations:

1)  It ain’t (yes, Lynne, I said ain’t) the Casino.  The old Casino had 50′s style.  It had a cold bowling alley. It had open air skating rink.  It had hiding places. It was my childhood.

2)  When my daughter is older, I will lock her up. Pre-teen boys at pools are one hormone away from pissing me off.

3)  The water is too hot. That’s a problem.

4)  Mr. Harrison, my social studies teacher from 7th grade, works at the pool. He looks the same, maybe bigger, as he did 27 years ago.  Wow. 

Things change I guess.  My kids will never experience Del Taco Friday nights, the Casino, Sea Island Beach Club (when it was club and not a “resort”), or playing Pac-man at the Tastee-Freez.

But, they get a dad and I didn’t.  I suppose they have it pretty good then.

Your Mom is Naked on The Internet

Maybe so, but I am damn sure not going to be Googling her to find out.

Imagine being a 12 or 13 year old male (I was some time ago).   Now imagine having all of your Uncle’s Playboys (that he hid under the mattress and you only have 2 minutes to look at them while he is going to the bathroom) at your fingertips via “The Internet”.

As a 12 year old kid, discovering the beauty of a woman, I would be excited.  As the father of an 11 year old son and 9 year old daughter, I am scared to death.

Both kids have computers in their rooms.  So far, the only rules are that they can’t be on them with the doors shut. Also, we told the naive little buggers that we had tracking software that allowed us to pull up real time views of what their computers were looking at and that we get history reports on all search engine activity and page visits.  They are safe for now.  Trust me, they still believe in Santa Claus, so they’ll believe in the “Internet Police.”

But going forward, I am concerned.  I would hate for them to find a naked picture of their mom on the internet.

My Wife is Hot

I am really glad to be married to Mrs McBud.  

On top of being quiet (I have mom, sister talking issues), smart (thanks Harriet Langford for gifted class), a great cook (I am 50 lbs heavier since we met), and overall a great gal, she is a BABE.

Back From the Dead

Well, not really dead.

But my good friend, Laura, has finally gotten off the couch and started her own blog.  For those of you who have read any of my previous posts, you know I think Blog is a dumbass word.  She actually has a website, http://www.lauraleighpackard.com/, and you can connect to her blog from there.

Why should you?  Well, as my good friend Lynne (who has about 3 blogs) puts it, “I hate her already because she is better than me.” (Here’s one of her 35 blogs http://thepeachpen.com/wordpress3/ , I think she’s pretty greeat too.)

Enough about my best friend’s wife, now more about me.  What have I been up to?  Many have asked this question, and the answers are simple:

• I have been up to the weight of the average 7’4” center in the NBA.  Now I am trying to get down.
• I joined a new firm, Temenos Advisory (http://www.temenosadvisory.com/ ).  We have a great time and are EXTREMELY BUSY!!!
• I got a new Droid Incredible.  I am eventually going to write about it, because it is so awesome.  I am pretty sure it will get its own stocking this year for Christmas.
• I gave my daughter my craptop (with Windows Vista).  As a result, I can’t sit in my favorite chair to write.  I can only sneak it in between financial plans, proposals, and bringing in new clients at work.
• Finally, I have been busy being a kickass husband and father.  That is my favorite job and it, too, has been keeping me busy.

I am actually looking forward to writing my next post.  In the meantime, you should read Laura’s stuff.  (And please leave comments.  She was scared shitless that people would criticize her.  Also, those who tweet, please explain to her why she should as well.)

I am going to do some work.  I will be back soon.

Top 10 favorite songs from “The Clash: The Only Band that Matters.”

Stick tells me that if I can’t think of anything to write I should just do random lists.   I guess if you know me well enough, you know this list ain’t random.

Best band in my lifetime, often billed as “The Only Band that Matters.”  The Clash.

If you don’t know them, you should.

Top 10 Songs and a tidbit of lyrics:

10.  Lost in the Supermarket -

I came in for a special offer/guaranteed personality.

9.   Atom Tan -

He finally found the brick wall in his life

8.  Rudie Can’t Fail -

I know that my life makes you nervous/But I tell you I can’t live in service.

7.  Somebody got Murdered -

I’ve been very hungry/ but not enough to kill.

6.  Straight to Hell -

Speaking King’s English in quotation/As railhead towns feel the steel mills rust water froze…

5.   Guns of Brixton -

When they kick at your front door/How you gonna come?

4.   Clampdown -

You don’t owe nothing, so boy get running/It’s the best years of your life they want to steal.

3.  English Civil War -

it was still at the stage of clubs and fists/when that well-known face got beaten to bits

2.   London Calling -

London calling to the Zombies of death/Quit holding out, and draw another breath

1.  White Man in the Hammersmith Palais -

White youth, black youth/Better find another solution/Why not phone up Robin Hood/And ask him for some wealth distribution

R.I.P. Joe Strummer.