the running man

I am loving Muay Thai! There seems to be nothing better to finally see those stubborn couple of pounds begin to budge than this fun and challenging self defense art. The best part is learning to take a little punching and kicking (with the help of a pad). Truthfully, it's terrifying, but I'm hoping it will pay off in some capacity of getting stronger and tougher.

Unfortunately, like an idiot, I attended class on Sunday night just 5 days after my Moony tribute tattoo was hammered in. Nearly half of it was eroded open by the end of two hours of punching and getting punched...sigh. We'll just have to wait and see how that turns out.

Last night, which is not too different from most nights, Cyn launched into teaching some boxing technique. This particular skill, however, was quite a performance, including a sort of skipping motion with alternating high knees, complete with instructions of how to knee an opponent in the groin. I asked if the running man was really something that boxers use to hurt someone.
"Huh?" she replied, "of course you can hurt someone with a knee strike!"

I have definitely found my sport - my rendition of the running man has already hurt many people. Rivaled only perhaps by this guy:

musings

As I posted about previously, we made the decision to give our dog Moony away before joining the Foreign Service. Last night I had a dream that I was yelling at Moony's new mom. She was trying to force me to pay his newly accrued vet bills and I was getting upset explaining how that is definitely now something that falls under her jurisdiction now blah blah blah. What could this all mean? Hmmmmm maybe I want my dog back? ya think?

Also yesterday I sent many packages to many people and somehow managed to make it the most stressful thing I've done in weeks. How is that even possible? The very patient and understanding woman behind the counter actually asked me if this was the first time I ever mailed anything (did I mention that people seem to think I'm a lot younger with bangs?). I didn't have the heart courage to tell her that yes, in fact I had, and I definitely wasn't advertising that my very own father is a retired USPS carrier.

Taking Moony to Muir Beach:

Moons

The absolute hardest thing about Cynthia passing the Foreign Service exam (btw she is the smartest person I have ever known and I am so proud to be her wife) was making the decision to find a new home for my beloved dog.
He will always be my dog too, just so you know.

Although pets are allowed in the Foreign Service (hell, up until 6 months ago Moony would have had more rights than me as a same-sex spouse - thanks, Hillary!) I finally made the horribly depressing decision that my sensitive little guy would never survive the rigors that are grueling plane rides in the luggage compartment, potential and likely quarantines, frequent moves, unpredictable days, traveling, etc. Soooo an entire evening crying and a two foot high mountain of used tissues later, I caved.

Cyn found the family on Craigslist and I began corresponding with the mom. They have two little, sweet, active girls and a beautiful home in posh Los Altos Hills with horse trails for days and perhaps most importantly, incredibly patient adults. Moony took to the family immediately while I got myself the hell out of there as quickly as possible. I would have made it without any waterworks too if the mom hadn't hugged me. It was like slow motion: *arms opening into position, coming my way, enveloping me* nooooooooo...bam! tears.

The mom promised to send me monthly updates, rife with photos and stories. Don't worry, this isn't the last you'll hear of mr moony mcgee. Family portrait of the 3 of us: