Bikes: February 2009 Archives

Watching wolves leap through snow is so soothing when one has had a very bad day. They look to me a bit like this scarf; a lot of pale sunlight filtering through a white landscape. Not the same thing, obviously, since this was shot in interior light, but there's something about the color and pattern of this scarf that really does it for me. Evocative.

Some days I wish I could suddenly be riding in wilderness instead of on these streets. The jarring, rutted streets.

I cycled by a howling bloodhound standing at a corner yesterday, waiting (with its person) for the light to change so they could cross. I smiled and smiled at the pooch, and said hello to it, and the owner smiled back as I passed them. His voice was so plaintive and sweet. So out of place.

I had a fight today, with a stranger. I had an argument instead of a planned lovely encounter. I had a big fast ride that I hadn't planned on (but which I enjoyed). It was sunny, and still it was a terrible day.

I had enough to eat. I had water with me, and plenty of warm clothing, so it's not like those more desperate bases weren't covered. But you know, an emotionally bad day can still suck the beejezus out of you.

Kitwich is watching the howling wolves with focused attention.

Oh wow am I tired. It's been two days of windy windy riding (I took a rest day in between them, but it didn't exactly make me feel rested), and I feel like I've ridden 40 miles today instead of 20. Lordy.

It was fun as hell, don't get me wrong. I growled at the wind coming over the bridge. I gripped the bars like I was holding a shotgun and hurled myself bodily at the headwind.

And I made it just fine, and then flopped down on a stool, and ordered a macchiato purely by giving the coffeeman a look. I love that. He looks a question; I look an answer; two minutes later there is a strong, gorgeous little cup of coffee in front of me. Delightful.

Really, I could have wished for a nap in a glass, but you do what you can.

So here I am, at home, and it's too late to have more coffee, even though I'd dearly love some. I made soup. It's yummy. I ate some things. And some other things. And still more things. And somehow it all made me even sleepier, and yet I know when I finally get in bed, I won't be able to sleep.

Why?

Well, apart from my inherently nocturnal disposition, I've been highly sleep-resistant lately, due to being incredibly, incredibly distracted by thoughts of a particular boy. Let's call him Thing One, shall we?

I try to sleep and all I can think about it is what I'd do to Thing One, were he at that moment (or any moment) next to me.

And then, when I give myself leave to just dwell and fantasize and go crazy over it, Thing Two intrudes, because, you know, I kissed him the other night.

And then, as if that weren't enough, I start thinking about Blondie (you remember Blondie, right?), who tends to come up in my head for the simple and powerful reason that he's the best kisser I ever had. Sigh.

Upon hearing about the little carnival that is my head lately, my friend Miz Fury says it sounds like a circus. And then, because this is how my brain works, I think, hmmmn. Maybe I should just recruit myself a little harem.

And you wonder why I need all that exercise?

I really have no idea what to tell you, but I feel that I've shorted this blog a bit in the last few days, and it's sunny out and I've had no sleep whatever, so I might as well ramble here a bit.

Quite happy with the way these mittens came out. I adapted my usual pattern a bit, and they fit so much better than most mittens I've made that I am wondering why it never occurred to me to tinker with it before.

A lack of knitterly confidence, I suppose. Which seems odd given that I have no issue with knitting something based on nothing but a sketch I drew on a scrap of notebook. But there you have it; I know I run into trouble knitting from patterns, so I am shy about departing from them.

Maybe I will be braver next time; these fit my long, narrow hands like - well, like the proverbial glove. Funny how one forgets that one's body is an individual, too.

I feel like there's a metaphor in there, but I am a little tired to chase it. Also, my brain is full, may I be excused?

Let us move on to a random list, in the grand tradition of such blogs as Cari's, and - er - mine. Because, you know, I like lists. I once, in fact, wrote a poem that was simply my grocery list. Hey, I didn't say it was my best work.

uno: New bike is delayed by three whole days. Not the worst setback ever, but I want my new pony.

dos: I am wearing striped socks. Tall striped socks. No, they are not handknitted. I still can't knit a sock. Would it be wrong to think I could learn here?

tres: Charles Mingus is giving me a headache. Or maybe it is the lack of sleep. Or maybe it is hormonal.

cuatro: I put my back out vacuuming yesterday. Then I got on my bike.

cinco: There is all sorts of boyness floating around in my head at the moment, none of which I can tell you about. It's all very Dr. Seuss. And yes, that's why I can't sleep. And no, it's not for that reason. (Yet.)

seis. This is a terrible post. Better luck next time.