Slapped By The Coach

Eric, Kevin and myself were in the gym along with Alan on Wednesday night.  The crowd was bigger than Monday's, but not by much. 

Eric and I sparred, and I wimped out in during the beginning of the third round.  I hate when I do that.  Eric got me at the right angle in the solar plexus, and I couldn't go on.  I hadn't been feeling too well all day, but I was going to spar anyway.  But I got taken out.  "I'm sorry!  Are you ok?" Eric asked.  I was after a few minutes, but I was mad with myself for having punked out like that. 

Alan held one of the heavy bags for me to give me pointers about throwing my jabs and rights.  I don't always throw them out completely, especially the jab.  Then we were working on hooks.  I learned that I'm always too close when I throw them.  I should be back a little bit, as not to crowd myself.  Alan was yelling, "Come on!  Shit, if you throw punches hard like that, you'll knock the girls out that you have matches with!"  I had my right hand down at the wrong time, and SLAP!  "Alan!" I protested, as my face was stinging.  "I'm sorry.  But don't drop the hands when throwing the hooks!"  he said.  Only in the gym do guys get to hit me and get away with it. 

Elsewhere, it's been a tripped out week.  An arguement broke out between myself and a guy who attends my church on Monday, and it continued into Tuesday.  I've been hot about that for awhile, so much that my stomach was in knots.  That is never a good thing.  That means that I'm beyond angry.  I don't want to have to revert to my Hothead Hillari days back during my kid/teen/twenty-something years when I would break my foot off in others at the drop of a hat.  I'm old enough to know better to take other tactics to handle a problem, and I should.  But I entertain fantasies, believe that.

About the best news so far this week is that Pastor Roger and Virginia had their baby, a boy who weighs nine pounds.  I joked to Terri, another church member, about how Ma would pull out the maternity card on my late brother Ken when she got mad at him.  Ken was ten pounds when he was born.  There were many times when she'd grumble about the difficulty in pushing out his head when she thought he was being disrespectful towards her.  My brother did have a large rock head; I wish I had one of his old baby pictures to post on here.