Thursday, April 18, 2013

Taking a Blog-battical

As I sit here, typing while looking out the window above my computer, watching the rain fall, rain we've so badly needed, I think about how I haven't blogged for some time. A tiny part of me feels guilty for not being more regular, but then a larger part of me thinks who the hell cares what I have to say anyway? And that duality is what's been my life for awhile now. Ever since last summer when I arrived home after spending 60 glorious days on my bike, learning how easily I can live with so little. Last summer is still with me in a very big way, so much so that every single day, as I'm sitting in my office, grading student work, or standing in front of the classroom, talking about the day's lesson, last summer's images, smells, sounds, and feelings creep in, interrupt. Not a day goes by that I don't think about last summer.

Even now, while I should be responding to the student paper I have pulled up on my computer, my thoughts instead turned to the day we climbed Monarch Pass in Colorado. It rained that day, giving the day's ride a very different flavor from what we'd dealt with while cycling through Kansas. Kansas was hot. The water in our water bottles was like that for hot tea. Drinking it was unpleasant but definitely needed to stave off dehydration. Cycling Monarch Pass was cool. Wet. A pleasant wet that gave a shiny gloss to the ferns growing from the rocky shoulder. I remember not rushing that climb, but rather just taking it easy to enjoy the rain, the Aspens, the purple flowers that looked like teardrops. When I was just yards away from the entrance to the campground where we were camping that night, a man in a truck pulled up alongside me, yelling, "Ma'am, there's a wide load coming up behind you. You need to get out of the way!" On my right was a rock wall. I could have stopped and squished myself against it. Instead, I checked for oncoming traffic, and seeing none, I high-tailed it to the left, across the left two lanes to reach the shoulder provided there. Just seconds after reaching the shoulder, the wide load lumbered past. Later, when we all had our tents set up and were changed into warmer, dry clothes, we gathered under the canopy tents at the RV to eat a pasta dinner and drink beer. I want to be back there now. I don't want to be here.

Because of my current love/hate relationship with blogging (and several other aspects of my life), I've decided to take a blog-battical. I'm sure I'll return sooner or later. For now, I wish you all good health, happiness, and peace.

Thursday, April 11, 2013

It Truly is Just a Blink

Things are changing around my house. Good changes. Happy changes. Well, mostly happy. Lovely Beautiful Daughter has moved out, and while I'm happy for her because moving into her first apartment makes her happy, I'm also somewhat sad. I already miss her. Her spark, her creativity, and her cheerfulness always made for fun times. Lovely Beautiful Daughter taught me how important it is to play as an adult, so I try every single day to incorporate some kind of play into my schedule, even if it's only an online word game of some sort. She's been so good for my soul her entire life, and I will never be able to express in words what this young woman means to me.

And my boys. Both are changing what seems like by the minute. Funny Delightful Son just got his driver's license. Angel Baby is now taller than I am. All I've been thinking about lately is how it won't be long before both of them are off and on their own, too. My babies are no longer babies.

Where did the time go?

I blinked, and now here I am facing changes I'm not so sure I'm ready for.

Sunday, April 7, 2013

Spring is Finally Here

Today the sun won out over the chill of the wind, and the temps climbed to 70. As soon as I walked outside this morning, I knew I could not let this day slip by without getting a longer ride in. So I planned to be out by noon, after delivering Hubby to the airport and after starting a new art piece just to see if what I was trying to do would work. It worked. I finished some of the new piece then turned my attention to getting the bike ready as well as myself ready. At noon, I was on the road.

Less than a quarter mile down the street, I had the thought of turning back to put a long-sleeved shirt under my jersey. The slight breeze was just enough cool to make me wonder if I would be miserable the entire ride. I decided I would eventually warm up, so I kept going. Around mile 30 I was wiping sweat from my face and very glad I hadn't put on the long sleeves. About a mile into the ride I realized I'd not put on gloves. I guess after riding on the trainer during the colder months, without gloves, put me in the mindset of gloves not needed. I thought about turning back, but being a mile away from the house made me say, "Nahhhh. I'll be fine." And I was. The hands didn't protest at all during the ride, and I never hit any holes that send a jarring pain up through the hands, so sans gloves worked out a-okay.

While my plan was to go for 40 miles, I wasn't concerned about speed. I really just wanted to see where the road took me, work out the kinks and maybe get some of the winter blahs out of my system. The snow, the cold, and the wind have all hung around a bit too long for my tastes. I love wearing sweaters, but there comes a time when layering and bundling up gets old. That old arrived over a month ago in all its gray haired, gray bearded glory. Time to take a hike, Old.

One of my ways to deal with Old has been to create. I found a stack of old windows on the curb. I couldn't just let them stay there all sad and lonely, so I brought several of them home with me. Two have been brightened up and are now gracing our deck. They truly make me smile. I'm working on a third, creating a more folk art kind of scene on it, and so far it is coming along nicely. Where it will hang is still up in the air, but I'm thinking maybe the garden fence might be a good home for it.

Another bright note: Hubby is back to work. Three plus long years of being unemployed put him in a dark place, but now, after just one week of being back to work, I see the happiness again. That happiness looks good on him.

Yeah, life is perking up. Feels wonderful.