The Glowing Edge

Tag: happy

  • Atlanta Corporate Fight Night 2, Merz vs Bledsoe

    Atlanta Corporate Fight Night 2, Merz vs Bledsoe

    ACFN2 Merz vs Bledsoe from Lisa Creech Bledsoe on Vimeo.

    I promised to post video from my fight so here it is. Try to ignore the blinking — I should have messed with my codec settings, but I wasn’t willing to spend the time on it. Also, I compressed the crap out of it with my new Handbrake software, heh.

    Sorry, I’m rambling.

    If this is the first you’ve heard of it (the fight, not the tech stuff), you can read my account of Atlanta Corporate Fight Night 2 here.

    When I watch myself in this match now I think, HOW COULD YOU BE SO SLOW??

    Us Type A’s. We’re obnoxious. But that seems to be the particular fuel that powers us forward, makes us ache to do better. Of course it also annoys all the normal people around us, which is a minor drawback.

    The truth is that the anxiety of being in a different city and the long hours of anticipation (not to mention cutting weight, etc.) are still pretty draining for me, even though I’m doing better with that every time. And even though I feel hypercritical about it, I’m also incredibly happy that I fought. There was plenty of craziness to overcome for this fight, including job shifts, traveling to Atlanta to train, getting comfortable with a new trainer (and sparring in a gravel lot), and of course, the chickens. I did well, and I’m pleased with that.

    And of course now I’m feeling all “onward, upward.” I’m still working with Jay, and I’m also training at Second Round. I’m eager to see where that takes me.

  • 5 Out of 5 Stars

    5 Out of 5 Stars

    As if there was ever really any doubt.

    Nonetheless, I have secured the hardcopy evidence and now I submit it into the loving care of the internets, who will be sure to NEVER FORGET that in fact, I rate.

    This also illustrates how cool I am to not only be palindromic (!!) but also up-side-down-ic. Any which way you spin me, I am clearly the wow-est mom ever.

    WoWMoM rulez. (Thanks, IceMage, for the lovely certificate.) (Which I deserve.)

  • My Boxing Ring Name

    My Boxing Ring Name

    So I admit I’ve been thinking about my boxing ring name for a while, not that I ever admitted it to anyone. Er, until now. And I’m only confessing because I actually had to turn in a name for this fight in Atlanta.

    I am telling myself that in roller derby I’d have had to register a name before I could hit the track, but in roller derby you’re supposed to be just a little bit wack. Just a little bit, of course. To take the edge off all that damned fine rough-and-tumble.

    Boxers are soooo not wack.

    Okay, I can hear the hollering and catcalls from here. You’re right, we’re wack, although we aren’t as cool as rollergirls. And yes, I’ve just convinced myself. Damn, I love blogging. Clarifies things, y’know?

    So that’s me. Forty-four and punching the hell out of sh*t. Loving every minute of it and having no intention of stopping. Rusted and busted, maybe, but relentless. They need to consider giving me more than the official three rounds is what I’m saying.

    Thanks for dropping by here, sharing the journey with me, and cheering like crazy people. Love y’all.

  • Happier than a bird with a french fry

    I totally couldn’t resist reposting this fabulous Etsy find. Perfect, isn’t it?

  • The Best Moment of Christmas Day, 2006

    was the Maker’s, age 6.

    The way Christmas morning works in our house is that everyone waits on me. I’m not a morning person, in comparison with the rest of my family, all of whom have actually witnessed the sun rising in the east. However, I’d like to point out that I was up past midnight, making sure Santa had no difficulties with anything. I’ll also mention, since it’s my personal blog, that when we got home from church around 9 pm, the Husband said, “I’m exhausted, wake me up later and I’ll help you.” I charitably and without a hint of sarcasm replied, “Oh sure, honey,” and rolled my eyes after he looked away. The night belongs to me. And why shouldn’t it? I live in a household with all males, and don’t even get my own bathroom. A woman has to create her space somehow.

    But as I was saying, I had gotten to bed pretty late (1 am) and at 4:50 am (after precisely 3 hours, 50 minutes of sleep for Yours Truly) I heard the distinctive rapid-fire Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump-Thump of a water buffalo galloping down the stairs of our suburban domain. This mom-alarm was followed by a tiny “tink” as the Christmas tree lights were turned on (we have a Marvelous Magic Snowflake), and silence.

    Since the silence remained unbroken by the sound of ripping paper and shouting, I went back to sleep. They can wait on me. Meanwhile, plenty of time to hand-squeeze Mom some fresh orange juice, right? Heh.

    I was willing to be drawn from my toasty comforter by 7 am (precisely 6 hours, minus the Thump-Thump-Tink interval, of sleep), and the circus commenced. The boys all received tool boxes and padlocks (remind me to post on why this was a great gift), and they saw those immediately, since they were not wrapped.

    The Maker, being the smallest and quickest, was the first to pounce upon his biggest present, which was under his toolbox, and about twice the size. He levered it up onto the couch (my dias), and excitedly began to gesticulate and exclaim, “Oh, oh, oh! I hope it’s something I really, really want!” To which I replied out of actual curiosity, “What do you really, really want?” “I don’t KNOW!” he cried gleefully, ripping paper from the roughly 12 x 20 inch cardboard box, “…A bike?”