I have been sunning myself like a reptile in the Bahamas. Here is the extent of my jiu jitsu over the last week.
Shark Girl, ever the good wife, decided to surprise Husband with a frozen margarita. Besides, they were on special for $4.95 each. Booze, a bargain, and brownie points—three Bs I can’t resist. Of course, I had to get one for myself, too. Truthfully, the only reason I got Husband one was so he wouldn’t complain about the one I was most definitely purchasing for myself. Such is romance in a 16-year marriage.
Balancing one frosty, foofy glass in each hand, Shark Girl carefully maneuvered to the elevator, spilling only a little of the liquid emerald.
I got off the elevator. Daring to look up, I spotted a man and woman walking toward me.
“Hey, is one of those for me?” the man said with a smile.
“Ha ha. . . .” Shark Girl replied. No. But I noticed he was wearing a “Tapout” shirt. As he stepped on the elevator, I chanced it.
“You do jiu jitsu?” I asked, pointing at him with a carefully controlled nudge of my margarita.
The question surprised him. “Yes.”
“So do I,” I replied. Probably not what this muscular, testosteroney poster-boy for whey powder was expecting to hear from a tiny, middle-aged mother drinking fruity drinks in a tropical paradise.
“Oh . . . where?” he asked.
“In .* You?”
The elevator doors closed, and I brought My Beloved his drink.
Here ends my week’s worth of jiu jitsu. I hope you have enjoyed it. Plus, I’m still nursing that injury and, frankly, a little nervous to get back on the mats.
* You really didn’t think I was going to give it up that easy, did you?