Ah see...here I go again...
It has been a week since I have laid my fingers to this keyboard and added my latest thoughts here.
There now is ...life from the back of a bike...
I like it. It is funny when we move past age 40; past worrying about the silly things we think important the first 30+ years of our lives. We enter into this stage of life where we just don't give a shit what people think. We have a rather amusing comedy going on our heads about this world we travel through. It's like it suddenly becomes this game of how odd we can make strangers think of us - and even a few people we would like to leave us alone.
Maybe this is what happened to Mel Gibson? HA! I doubt it - poor chap. Nothing like telling the world how ugly one really believes it is and showing how ugly one is inside. I have been on the receiving end of such an ugly drunken tirade from someone who called them self a friend. It makes one ponder, "How long have you hated me this much?" Then you shrug your shoulders, figure it is their demons and get about your life. Mel sure has some religious demons... maybe he knows this so-called friend?
Bigotry. (Sigh)
Back to bicycling.
Yes, I have become one of 'those" women who rides in a skirt, flip flop sandals and hair blowing in the wind. No football helmet or riding gear. Just the wind and me. It makes me feel eight years old. Back to the days of riding my stingray with its banana seat, high handle bars and those long summer days. Two of my best friends could ride with me on my bike. Down the streets we'd go screaming and laughing. There were no helmet laws - only the wind flow and motion of energy from the back of a bike. If I could ride in my bare feet these days - I probably would.
This bike has made me realize how long I have beentaking life oh so seriously. For someone to whom one's friends find to be the comedian in the crowd - I have been stoically serious within my soul. Maybe when we get sick, bundled with our responsibilities to our children - we forget to do the silly things. The little pill bottles, which line the windowsill, in my kitchen, remind me daily of the gravity of my disease. But when did I forget to kick off my shoes, put on a skirt, hop on a bike and coast down a hill - legs extended wide to my side?
My son Brian loves it. Hopefully I won't break my baby toes - like I did so many times growing up. My ballet coach was forever harping at me the danger of going bare footed outdoors. I never listened. I still prefer to be bare toed. We came into the world this way.
I have found myself yelling "Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee" as I race down hillsides, racing swiftly by cars.
I don't think I have ever yelled that during sex.
No matter how much I liked it.
People do yell how much they like my bike. People in the neighborhoods I ride through are beginning to yell hello and my name. We miss so much in the world from behind a windshield, talking on our cell phones with music playing.
I think they enjoy seeing this nut of a redhead cruising by on her retro bike with her Channel purse and flip flop sandals. Some days Boonie the dog races at my side. Nothing like a dog to show us the pure fun of racing through the wind.
I bumped into one of the Curves instructors who was concerningly apprehensive with me. I was lost until I realized a neighbor probably directed her to my comments on this blog. I forget this neighbor enjoys hunting down those I write about. Talk about ones need to get a life. But hey, just one more reader to this journal, right? I find it humorous that some just cannot stay away.
This instructor is a nice person, just caught in a job she needs to support her son. I like her, in spite of the silly Curves ways. Hell, it isn't her fault - she is just doing her job. And if it wasn't for the place I would not be riding my bike for an hour every day....right?
My bikes name is Betty.
Maybe that is what the guys are liking as I speed by ... girl on girl.
I am sensing some of you think I need to get out more.
Football season began for Brian this week. It is back to nightly practices and sweaty gym socks. I have missed the other parents and the kids. It seems Brian is the boy with the largest chest and has proceeded to push every kid off the line. This year'scoach is all over him, and the boys are gathering around him - shocked at his strength. He is puffing up like a peacock.
So much so, that when the group of boys noticed that sometimes he can't get his words out, he was not daunted. They asked, "Brian, why is it hard for you to get your words out sometimes?" There he was - exposed -in front of his peers. His answer, "I sometimes think faster than I can get the words out. It happens to really smart people” The other boys, without missing a beat answer, "Yeh, that happens to me sometimes too". And that was the end of it. Later that night I asked him if that moment hurt his feelings, He responded, "No, they were just curious and probably want to help me".
Now that, my friends, is a big change.
I asked him if he thought I was a nut on my bike to which he replied, "No, I like your bike - you look cool." I think he is really hoping for that new XBox 360 this Christmas...
We enjoyed a little rockin and rollin last night to the tune of an earthquake on Roberts Fault. Somewhere a redhead was having sex...
I have become so used to them through my life. I rather think they are fun. My very first earthquake experience was in grade school one night when my parents let me stay up late. "Then Came Bronson" was just starting on the TV. I was sitting on the couch next to my mother and the house began to shake. I remember all the loud popping noises. Our family stood under the front door frame. There was a large blue flash over the Northern night's sky. I was hooked.
Last night's ride was more the rolling type that comes without sound. It even caught all the pets by surprise, as they did not respond until about 5 seconds into the quake. Of course, I then had one hell of a time getting Brian to go to sleep.
School is just around the corner. Brian is now in 6th grade. Where do the years go? It was just yesterday I was on the blue stingray bike with the banana seat riding up the middle of Alta Avenue ...
Bare feet and all.
Until next time-
C
