(Note: I am a very private person when it comes to my family and my closest friends (see above re family). This summer hanging out at master’s training it came up that this is so counter-cultural it makes others people think I don’t spend time on friends or family.)
I work 7-days a week, except for holidays for when one of my 4 jobs is closed AND my martial arts classes are cancelled. So 100% of my free time goes to martial arts training so that I can be a better teacher for my students or to my family, which as I said I don’t talk about. Additionally, my family is much closer so I can typically go with minimal or no sleep for a day or two and visit the family without taking time off one job or another.
BUT, by way of showing my fam cred:
- No, I was not assembled in the lab from body parts of middle-aged kung fu/sci-fi nerds. I have, know, visit, and love my parents.
- Neither of my parents were intense television watchers before retirement, so I have six siblings, all of whom are at some state of marriage and they all have at kids. One reason I don’t blog about the clan is that it is sort of a full-time job to keep track of what the cousins, neices, nephews, and great-nephews (yes, I’m a great-uncle, but I don’t want to think about that until I turn 50). Besides, my mom currently has that full-time job and does it way better than I could.
Today was one of the rare exceptions when I needed to take a day off of work to help meet the family’s needs. After the necessary chores were done we sat around the lunch table and ended up talking about my Uncle George.
My family remains shocked by the lack of highway driving skills in the Great Plains, but then we reasoned that people up here don’t have anywhere near the incentive to master, say, merging into traffic because almost no one up here is going to run you off the road and come drag you out of your car if you cut them off.
This led to a story about my mom riding in the car with her brother George who, um, participated in this Cuyahoga Valley cultural exchange when cut off in traffic. My neice’s eyes were getting bigger by the moment.
I jumped in to explain that my Uncle George was this big friendly guy, you just really didn’t want to make him mad. The whole time I explained this I noticed a supremely ironic look replace the wide-eyed expression on her face. My father was about doubled over trying not to laugh, and my mom just looked at me and waited for me to catch on. She understands that I can be sort of slow.
…oh boy. I guess you’re saying I’m like Uncle George?
My neice nearly nodded her head off. It took my dad five minutes to stop laughing.