Where's my handbasket?

I just got back from Kung Fu where I learned that the new owner of Philly's Best, the sandwich institution on 23rd and Union was shot dead at 11:45 am yesterday in the shop. I don't know what I find most alarming about this. He is the second owner of the shop to be shot dead - the previous owner was killed 4 years ago in a robbery, I believe. This was not a robbery, apparently, it was personal.

The killer was on a rampage - first he went to his girlfriend's apartment and shot the place up, nobody was there. Then, he had some beef with the Philly's guy and so went straight there and killed him and a customer. In the late morning, broad daylight, weekday, right before the lunch rush.

One month ago, a young woman almost exactly my age was carrying groceries to her apartment on Capitol Hill, the wacky east-village-like white ghetto of Seattle. A man came up to her, stabbed her to death amidst her screams and before witnesses, ran off and was not ever caught. This death deeply affected me. I could be that woman. I lived on Capitol Hill for many years and have always wanted to move back there, I love the hill. I would not think twice of being on the street at 7 pm alone and unarmed.

This woman's death has brought a new sincerity to my kung fu training. I have always questioned myself, would I truly be able to defend myself against an assailant? Would I have the stomach to rip someone's eyes out, break their knees, their nose? I could never picture it, no, that's not it, I could never FEEL it. When I read about the woman on Capitol Hill, I knew that i could. I KNOW that I could. That I would fight against an assailant with all the tools that I have.

I bring that to my training now. When I practice street-fighting techniques, it no longer feels like playacting. I can feel the results of my attacks without it actually occurring. When I elbow someone's jaw (with friendly contact), I feel it breaking. I feel myself smashing it in, and instead of feeling frightened or disgusted, I feel empowered. I know that I have some tools to help me against an attacker.

i also realize the fragility of my body against any attacker who is on drugs or is carrying weapons or has friends. I know that my little body stands little chance against many things and I also know that I am likely to lose a real fight that befalls me. I also know that I will have the spirit to say to an attacker, YOU PICKED THE WRONG BITCH TO FUCK WITH TODAY and i will fight them with all the tools that I have. That woman's death reminds me of that fighting spirit.

I am scared that so many violent and horrific things are happening so close to me, all around me. I am terrified for Lucy and the world that sometimes seems so uncaring and upside-down. I am grateful for the tools I have, but I am never going to stop getting new tools, new weapons, new abilities to protect myself and my family. The world may seem like it's going to hell in a handbasket right now, but I am going to do what I can to keep it a good and safe place for me and my family to live.

My thoughts are with the families of the victims tonight and my heart goes out to all of them.

Shiva

While I was in Connecticut scoping out kindergartens for Lucy, I learned that my beloved companion of 13 + years was killed by some sort of wild creature in the neighborhood.

Shiva has been with me longer than anyone I know, - 13 years, minus the few he spent with my brother while I went to college. He was adopted by Todd, who loved him as much as I did.

I got him when he was a sickly but wily little orange kitten. He had a cold of some sort that lasted for so long that it scarred his tear ducts and was plagued his entire life with a drippy eye. It was because of this that I became interested in nutrition and supplements (for pets) which led to my general interest in nutrition and health, which in turn leads me to where I am today.

He slept on my pillow when he was tiny and gradually grew and grew until he took over the whole thing and I had to get one of my own. He slept next to me until Lucy was born at which point he took a hiatus from the screaming and then from the bouncing and general loudness of children. He recently began to join me in bed again each night even if just for a quick scratch and purrfest.

He wasn't too crazy about the new addition we got to the family last year, either. Stellaluna tamed him, and though he pretended to merely tolerate her, but I knew he secretly loved her.

Though he was a curmudgeon, he always knew when I was sad or sick and came to sit and cuddle with me. He killed MANY rats since moving in here and left them partially eaten or intact as lovely gifts. I joked that the rats had an uprising and ultimately got him back in the end. You never know...

He began to become more ornery of late, pissing on the oven when we were too slow in feeding him. Though impatient about food, he also became more affectionate as he grew older. Sitting with us on the couch to get scratched and to fart.

I miss him terribly. I loved him as a real member of my family and it is hard for me to come home without his warm greeting.