SQL is freaking me out less, seeming downright do-able, which means I’m probably doing it wrong. Oh well!
In bruise news, my awesome arm bruise is even awesomer, today. And, and, on the other side of my bicep, there’s this weird little, like, archipelago of bruises, and I’m not sure if they came from kickboxing yesterday or grappling today (rolling got downright fierce, today, you know, for me).
I learnt in grappling that I have to stop crossing my ankles, which I do, like, freaking constantly. Tammy, the kickboxing second-in-command, was at grappling, and she took to physically uncrossing my ankles while I was lounging around. When I protested that I am a lady, god damn you (currently straddling and choking another lady notwithstanding), Jody said, “None of us are ladies, here. We leave our vaginas in a box by the door. It’s the box of boxes.” Jody is now Officially Aces in my book.
(I need, like, a stamp, or a set of stickers, that say “Shannon Certified: Officially Aces”. My cool grandmother and Jody would both have one.)
Then I rolled again, and I pretty much completely forgot everything, so I was just dodging around, and getting into good positions, then being, like, FuckWhatNow? It’s been two weeks since I went to class (Thanksgiving in Truro and last week’s class was cancelled), so I’ve forgotten most of the moves except Arm Bar. But I’m super-wiggly and surprisingly strong, so I still gave Tammy a run for her money. Everyone else has mouth-guards, which I need, but the nose is what freaks me out. It’s just out there, and when your face is getting squished into the floor (tactically squished into the floor, tactically), man, the nose is just waiting to get smooshed. And my pretty face is basically my meal ticket.
And now I’m on the reference desk! It’s good to Barbarian before you Librarian.