Friday, May 27, 2005

Revealing, sad, shocking, sometimes funny...

Just found a blog today where people mail in postcards with secrets on them. Some amazingly revealing stuff here. Anonymous, yet so familiar. I came away from the site feeling exhilirated and depressed at the same time. I don't think I like that combo, but it's still an interesting site.

Thursday, May 26, 2005

Dog game

Overheard at my window, with three pairs of little-girl hands pressed against the screen, Dakota pressing herself as close as possible to these hands from the OTHER side of the window:

Katie: "Caroline!"

Me: "What?"

Chloe: "Oh, we dropped the pizza." [They'd been teasing Dakota with a piece of their dinner pizza.]

Me: "Oh no, that's too bad!"

Chloe: "We're playing a dog game. I'm Dakota."

Katie: "And I'm Kota."

August: "I didn't know you had glasses..."

Me: "Yep, I usually wear contacts, but tonight I'm wearing my glasses."

August: "We're going to play the dog game!"

[All three girls run away, screaming in glee. Dakota presses herself closer against the screen and whimpers after them.]

Little girls are hilarious. :)

Childhood memory

I remember Grammie's sandwiches, served up to me when I was staying over at her house, sick with a cold or maybe just out of school for the day. They were always on white bread, with generous schmears of mayo, tomato, lettuce and one or two different kinds of cold cuts (turkey, ham) that she always had in the fridge.

Eaten from a TV tray while watching the game show 'Scrabble,' or 'BumperStumpers' on Grammie and Papa's TV that sat under the angel artwork near the old stereo cabinet, those sandwiches tasted like the most gourmet food ever.

She'd putter around in the kitchen while I ate them. I remember cold glasses of soda, too. Dr. Pepper, or maybe 7-Up?

Me and my motorcycle

I have a motorcycle. Her name is Pirate. I bought her last year from someone who work at the same company I do. She's what you might call "retro" (she's a year older than I am), but the person who sold her to me rebuilt her from parts taken off of three bikes of the same model, and she generally runs damn good for an old lady.

Anyway, I have realized that, when I'm a passenger on a bike, I'm totally relaxed. When I'm the driver, however, I am very nervous. Actually, wait. That's not entirely true. I'm nervous when I'm NOT on the bike and I'm THINKING about getting on the bike. Once I get on and get going, I'm generally okay, other than fretting about how much to slow down before entering a turn, and do I countersteer or not and should I be giving it more gas or maybe a little brake, and did I remember to turn my turn signal off?

Pirate Parked
In other words, I'm thinking WAY too much. I am a fledgling biker chick that needs to get the hell out of her own head and just RIDE.

It's not always like this, thankfully. I have had miles out of my rides where I'm just kind of hanging in the zone, relaxed, alert and comfortable. That tends to be on the straightaways, I guess, but it does happen. I keep telling myself that it's probably somewhat natural for a person with a well-developed (and HEALTHY!) sense of self-preservation to feel nervous getting on a yet-unfamiliar machine, and I've been advised that this feeling will pass with more miles and time on the bike. So, I just need to get myself on the bike more. That's a goal for this summer -- to have put at least 250 miles on my bike by the time I put it away for the winter. I think I've got maybe 50 so far. Gotta just ride more.