Jiu Jitsu, Bahamas-Style

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?”

            “New York.”

 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?