Snow Slush and other Schtuff

The Nor’easter passed us by. It snowed for 24 hours straight and we got . . . 2 inches. I know it’s a pain in the ass to dig out from big snows but it would also just be nice to have one. I guess I’ll hold out for a big March blizzard.

In other news, I’ve got the hots for two of Nate’s karate instructors. It’s very distracting, to me anyway, and I find myself surreptitiously peering over the novel of week (this week it’s "Coma" by Robin Cook), to study their personalities, physiques, and smiles as they work with the children.

One has caught my attention more than the other. He’s funny and outgoing in class and the kids like him a lot. Plus, he has these deep eyes and radiant smile and chest hair.

Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, hey, ummm. . . momentary lapse of coherent thought.

Anyway, they have both noticed me as well. As I watch "Smiley" walk the length of the dojo in my peripheral vision, he makes a point to catch my eyes, smile, and nod, which I return, and which he doesn’t do with anyone else in the long line of parents shifting on the uncomfortable seats.

*Drool*

*Ahem*

"Blondie," the other one, is a bit more stern in class, but we’ve traded pieces of conversation and he has a bit of cockiness that, while not off-putting, could be. He seems to have a biting humor, which I can certainly appreciate, but. . . there’s that air of. . . something that makes me wary of him. Sure, he’s a black belt and he’s good looking, not afraid to make conversation, puts up with 30 Nates, but . . . can’t put my finger on it. Although he does have a nice voice.

Perhaps with Blondie, I get the feeling there is an invisible bar of worthiness which is consistently set higher and higher so that you never achieve true worthiness. I’m more attracted to Smiley because the feeling from him is openness and a bit of. . . that twinkle in his eye, the way his whole face is transformed by his genuine smile. . . what my German Papa would call, "schlingel," a brat, a prankster. His personality just radiates.

One problem. . . how the hell do you corner someone in a room full of kids and parents even to introduce yourself??? What? Pop up from my place at the side, wedged between Chance’s father and Yuki, like a Jack-In-The-Box to block his path with my coat and Nate’s shoes, my purse, and a book in my hands? Or shall I continue to peer surreptitiously across the pages of my book, basking in his smile, his laugh, his humor, his voice. . . that damn chest hair peeking out of his gi. Oy.