Free Starbucks recipe book

Saw this at Lifehacker.com [lifehacker_rss], here:

If you've got weak defenses against Starbucks' frillier fare like frappuccinos, chai lattes, or even the ubiquitous pound cake, the Coffee Fair blog has an appealing weekend recipe project for you. Amongst 32 pages of free Starbucks-derived recipes, you'll find recipes for those sweet treats, along with lots of other cloning attempts.

Free Starbucks Coffee Recipe E-Book

I checked it out and am pretty pleased with it. It didn't have my favorite Starbucks recipe of all, their espresso brownie, but it did have another favorite, the maple oat nut scones.

100 Pushups

W2 D1
9, 8, 6, 4 (15)

A red letter day at the dojo

Fiona has accepted the inevitable (namely that she really is getting too tall to spar in the kids' sparring class) and so she came with me to the adult sparring class for the first time. And so we finally got to fight each other, something we've been looking forward to for a long time.

And it was also the first time I've ever seen someone at the dojo get hurt to the point of getting taken away in an ambulance.

Mr. Pallesen started the class pairing off for light contact warm up fighting. I started with a teenaged red belt named Jericho I've never fought before. I honestly couldn't tell whether Jericho was a boy or a girl (he/she had a braid of hair clubbed back at the neck). Extremely quick on the feet, with aggressive rapid-fire follow through, but not, unfortunately, much control. "Light contact," I admonished him/her after the third strong wallop to the head.

We changed partners and started again. Then I heard a sharp cry of pain and looked over and saw Ms. Gori over on the ground. Fiona, backing up during her own bout, had all but fallen over her. "No, no, don't move it!" Ms. Gori cried, wincing in pain as Ms. Staley knelt down and went to turn her over . "It's the knee--I think it's dislocated."

Our two senior senseis were there, so they came out of the office and knelt down to assess her. She had been fighting, she told them, and them somehow, as she was moving backwards, something happened--it had all happened so fast, that she wasn't sure exactly what--and her knee had collapsed under her.

"Did you hear anything pop, or feel anything tear?"

"Maybe. I don't know. I'm not sure."

I helped them gently remove her sparring gear, which I went to put in her bag. Her father was there, fortunately. Ms. Abuerto held the knee immobilized and talked to her as we waited for the ambulance. "Your limousine is here," Mr. Sidner quipped as the ambulance arrived in the parking lot.

The paramedics came in, as did Ms. Gori's mother, looking extremely alarmed, as well she might. "God, I'm supposed to test next month," Ms. Gori said, tears of pain rolling down her face as they carefully bundled her onto the stretcher. I winced, remembering--Ms. Gori was one of the black belts who had been at this Saturday's advanced test, who was awarded her third section star. She has also been going to the screenings and passed them, and was going to test for her black belt, second degree on September 6, the day we hope Delia will test for first degree. When the paramedics asked her how old she was, she answered "Fourteen," and I winced again, looking over at Fiona. Just a little younger than my girl. What a disconcerting introduction to adult sparring class for Fiona.

After the paramedics wheeled her out, we fighters left looked at each other and heaved a collective sigh. "All right, helmets on," Mr. Pallesen said. "Pair up. Light contact again, this time close up, hands only, to chests and shoulders only, not to the head." We shrugged a little ruefully and obeyed, and the new fights were on.

I paired up with Fiona twice. The first time, we did a lot of circling and feinting, each trying to figure out the other's fighting style. She has a powerful sidekick, but I have the reach on her, having longer arms and legs. One strange effect: every time one of us landed something, we would laugh. I guess we were just a little nervous and giddy about finally fighting each other. The second bout I had with her was for one of the close-in-hands-only bouts. I thought about how I've been working on breath control (trying to fight while keeping loose enough that I can talk, without hyperventilating), so I decided to have a little fun. I feinted with a jab and landed a ridge hand to the side of her helmet. "That's for leaving your towel on the floor." Backhand punch. "That's for not emptying the dish drainer." She giggled and tried to blitz me back. I ducked and threw a light hook. "That's for not making your bed." The bout ended with a flurry of punches and giggles, and we ended up exhausted, but happy.

She fought Mr. Stratton during the hand-contact-to-head only bout. Mr. Stratton, who is HUGE, has always been sort of our private family joke--I'd tease her that like it or not, she had to go to adult sparring sometime, and then she'd have to face Mr. Stratton. She found the prospect disconcerting because he is so big. He always fights with excellent control, however (he's had to learn it, since he's bigger than just about anyone in the dojo except maybe for Mr. Sidner), which I really appreciate, and he is always cheerful extremely generous with praise and pointers. He was about a foot taller than Fiona and probably 125-140 pounds heavier. But she said she enjoyed fighting with him, he was really nice--although her arms certainly got tired because she spent the entire three minutes of the bout punching up.

It was fun dissecting the other fighters with her on the drive home.

I'll say a prayer for Ms. Gori tonight. Ms. Staley said was hopeful that it wasn't a dislocation, and that she'll still be able to test next month. She'll have to take it easy for awhile, though.