on a scale of wonderful to shit

Saturday night Robert, Rachel and I went for a moonlight bike ride.  The ride began at 10 pm and there were about 600-700 people riding.  I saw babies in those adorable carts that are pulled behind their parent's bikes and I saw ancient bicyclists as well.  So there were definitely all ages, all skill levels, and a lot of people.

The first fifteen minutes were ok. I was vaguely enjoying all the decorated bicyclists but already feeling a bit overwhelmed by the crowds.  It wasn't staggered very well.  We were somewhere in the middle, and as the ride progressed, I began having difficulty breathing and I could feel my heart pounding everywhere.  There weren't any rules. The slower people did not stay to the right, most kids hadn't learned bicycling etiquette and were zinging everywhere.  It was dark with a few streetlights and I could see hundreds of shadows looming over me as the bicyclists from behind overtook me.  I lost track of Rachel and Robert and knew if I slowed down I may be run over.  Because of my increasing panic I also knew I was losing my ability to react fast.  I was near tears and shaking so bad my knees were clanking against my frame.

I crested a hill and to my absolute horror, saw several bicyclists on the ground, including a dad who had one of those fancy baby carts.  I cycled around them and immediately got my ass off the ride (there were already a lot of people helping the injured bicyclists and ambulances on the way).

The most exciting part of the trip - a jog through a local cave - was just ahead, but I couldn't go on. Robert, who was somewhere behind me, had my phone so I decided that, because it was only six miles into the ride, I would just hoof it back through the ditches. My heart was beating so fast I was paralyzed for a moment.  But after just seconds I recovered and began my walk.  I kept expecting to see Robert or Rachel as I made my way back, but it was too dark, and I couldn't make out faces.  I was actually relieved I didn't see them, because I wanted them to see the caves and knew they would try to walk back with me if they saw me.  Eventually I saw them on their way back, and because Robert had a flat tire, we called the help wagon to pick us up while Rachel bravely finished the last couple miles on her own. 

I learned later Rachel wrecked her bike but only messed up her handle bars and didn't have any injuries.  She wasn't involved in the nasty pile up I witnessed before throwing in the towel.     

Robert had a positive attitude about the moonlight ride.  On the way home he kept referring to as an "adventure."  I was too exhausted to process how I felt about the ride.  But on Sunday, after a few hours of sleep, my feelings were clearly pointed to cluster f&$@ on a scale of wonderful to shit. 

While I was walking my bike back, I felt assaulted by my thoughts, which alternated between calling myself a loser and applauding my decision.  

Recently when I feel panicky or anxious I've been making an effort to remove myself from whatever situation I'm in, and the results have been awesome.  My brain tends to shut down when I feel panicky or anxious, and I'm either paralyzed and unable to work my way out of it or I get really defensive and go into attack mode.  Mostly I completely freeze up on the outside while my poor heart is thundering around on the inside.  I get sweaty and weepy and probably look as deranged as I feel.  Mostly I only feel this way as I'm falling asleep and am overcome by racing thoughts or in crowded situations, so it's very easy to remove myself from the situation.  But I don't always do it. It's tough to take action when my brain shuts down and I feel paralyzed.  But I've made great strides recently, and Saturday night was an enormous and incredibly empowering step for me.  I was able to deftly remove myself from the situation without impacting others.  I didn't cry as I walked.  My heart rate returned to normal as I deftly maneuvered my bike through ditches and I quickly found a solution to the problem and for the most part, stayed focused on that.  

Though it took most of the day yesterday, I finally realized that it took strength to admit defeat.  

So yes, the ride was a cluster f&$@, but there's a few awesome things that happened.

1. Both Robert and Rachel saw the cave.
2. Rachel wrecked her bike, but she got right back on, even with deformed handlebars and was the only one of us to finish the ride.  What a boss!
3. The ride came with a cool shirt, and I feel like I can wear mine now with a smile on my face.

So yes, Robert, that was quite the adventure.  Let's pass on it next year but definitely try something else.

sweet-faced softie

I took a different route today while biking home from work...

Needless to say, it's officially my new favorite route.

my turn

While bicycling to work the other morning I passed a few joggers, a lady walking two giant dogs, and to my delight and astonishment, two bicyclists who were using the sidewalk just like me.  As always, I biked into the grass each time I came across anyone and shouted a good morning.  The first cyclist, a man, nodded and hurried on.  The second cyclist, a woman, joyfully echoed my good morning.  Because her panniers were packed, I assumed the lady was commuting, and I was absolutely thrilled by this. While I ate breakfast I wrote this down as my favorite bicycling moment of the day.  

Then something amazing happened on the way home.

As I was bicycling home, I thought I saw the same gentleman cyclist from the morning but couldn't be sure.  I veered into the grass just as he shouted, "my turn," while veering into the grass.  He was the same cyclist!  And he remembered me! 

I felt the pages of my life flip back back back to when I was a child thinking about my future.  Seeing the same people day in and day out while bicycling to work was something I imagined my adult self doing.  This was an exotic idea to me because I lived in a teeny tiny town that not only lacked the necessary humans to interact with, but was also quite a dangerous place to walk due to an abundance of bars (one for every family it seemed like).  I had two walking options - clinging to the ditch or clawing my way through the woods (my preferred method) - and two destinations - grocery store or gas station.

I believed in sidewalks with the same reverence as some people believe in angels or salvation.  Would I ever live in a town that had them?  Would they lead to exciting places like the library?  More importantly, were they even real?  Occasionally, while in the neighboring town, I thought I spotted one but couldn't be sure.  Just as fast as I spotted one, it would disappear, ending abruptly in a field.

To my young mind, sidewalks were pathways to neighbors and civilization and libraries, salvation from boredom.  As a child, I imagined a series of sidewalks leading my adult self to all the places I needed to go each day.  What I didn't realize is that finding a sense of community would be just as tough in a big city as it was in a teeny tiny town, maybe even tougher!  Living in such a big city with lots of people certainly makes it tough to see the same people day in and day out.  Surprisingly, not a lot of people use the sidewalk, especially early in the morning and late in the afternoon.  When I do see a familiar face, it's such a treat.  Each time it happens I am transported right back to my childhood dreams, and it feels like I'm adding another piece to the jigsaw puzzle of my happiness.

Deer

Now that I'm working a new library gig at a new place my bike ride is radically different and longer.  Depending on my route, it's 14-15 miles round trip.  

In the mornings, when it is quiet and very few people are out and I can hear everything, the solitude becomes a presence.  Though it's still very urban, there are a few woody areas on the way to my new library.  I see geese every day and also ducks and the occasional heron.  Deer are quite common too.

There's a very brutal uphill section on the way home that is four lanes of traffic on one side and a very long, two block meadow on the other side.  It's a rare chunk of land that hasn't been spoiled by buildings yet.  About once a week I'm usually treated to the sight of deer in the meadow, and I take a break from climbing and lean against the fence to watch the deer.  

While bicycling to work a few days ago I saw something that was simply out of this world.  A few blocks past the meadow is a park and creek area surrounded by office buildings.  I noticed a flurry of movement in the woody area and saw a flash of white.  Deer.

Hoping to catch a glimpse of them, I peddled faster.  Just when I realized I should slow down in case they crossed in front of me, they thundered from the woods about ten feet ahead of me.  I immediately braked (I was on the sidewalk) while they crossed the four- lane road that was thankfully devoid of traffic. They were so close I could feel the wind of their movement and smell their scent, something I can only describe as wet, muddy popcorn.  And their hooves made the most pleasant clacking noise as they thundered across the pavement.

After they ran in front of me and my heart slowed from the exhilaration, I began pedaling again.  But then, just a few feet in front of me, a fifth deer thundered from the woods, this time close enough to reach and touch her if I wasn't completely dumbstruck by her appearance.  I think she realized how close she was to me because her body swung away from me in mid-leap, and when she landed, she skidded sideways before finding her balance again.

During this moment of thundering deer (and my thundering heart) not a single car passed.  It was quite dark and I was still a few seconds away from the ten-block stretch of office buildings.  I've always wondered what it would feel like to live in a snow globe for a day or two.  Though it wasn't snowing, this moment is as close as I've gotten to feeling like I'm living in my own snow globe.  And who knows, maybe in another world or dimension someone happened to look at their snow globe at the exact moment the deer leapt from the woods into the empty street.  Perhaps we even shared the same gasp of surprise.

ready to teach my bike a lesson

Robert has been building shelves in the garage (nothing has fallen yet!) and also fancy bike hangy things.  

And Rose and Ella and I have been... Well, we've been taking it easy.  



With my hip problem on one side and a bum knee on the other, I took several days off, but am hoping that I can outwalk a couple geriatric golden retrievers here in a few days. And maybe try to stay on my bike this time.

rescuing kittens from the Feds

Robert received an Apple watch for his birthday courtesy of his grandma.  We've been drooling over them since the first one came out but couldn't justify the expense of two.  We really loved our Jawbones, but they eventually wore out.  Fitness is the biggest reason we've been so excited about Apple watches.  They encourage healthiness and monitor your heart rate.

After Robert got a watch for his birthday we decided to do something crazy and buy one for me so that we can compete encourage each other. After watching him have so much fun with his for a few days I was ecstatic when mine arrived. Naturally the first day I wore mine was after 10+ days of major exercise - mostly tennis, bicycling and walking.  But also physical therapy for some bursitis and nerve issues in my right hip area. I needed a rest day, which I usually give myself every couple weeks.  Well there is no rest day with an Apple watch.  Or with PT for that matter.  So I did my PT and a long walk with Robert and was very pleased with the watch and ready to try it out at tennis.  

The very next day I crashed my bike.  Or rather, my bike threw me off and crashed me.  It was a very complicated scenario, and I honestly have no regrets.  Sometimes you've just got to be thankful that it was pavement instead of a car.  I came out of it fine, but tore up my left knee and got some road burn on my left arm.  I also hurt like heck everywhere, which shouldn't surprise me because I'm not 7 anymore.  

So sadly I haven't been able to close my rings on the Apple watch. Each day you've got three rings to close:

1. standing for five minutes per hour for 12 hours (this one is a piece of cake, apparently even when you're injured)
2. getting your heart rate up to a healthy high for 30 min
3. overall movement (this one is tough as heck. Steps don't seem to matter much, as I've gotten over 10,000 steps a day and met only 50% of my movement goal)

It couldn't have been a worse time to receive an Apple watch (yes, you can tell what a great life I have by my complaints), and quite frankly I've been a little glum. It certainly doesn't help that Robert has turned into Richard Simmons and is closing his rings like it's the easiest thing in the world (way to go Robert).  But it's smart to wait for the goose egg on my knee to disappear and pretty much everything to scab over.  I wanted a rest day, right? How about four of them?  

Thankfully everyone at work has been really sweet and not asking a lot of questions about my mummy appearance.  Today a few patrons asked me what happened and I thought long and hard about coming up with a grand story involving an alien invasion thwarted by a gal and her bike, but I simply said I had a bike wipeout and smiled through the demeaning "well God bless your soul" that was thrown around a couple times.  The best interaction happened at the end of the day when an elderly lady came in and made a beeline to where I was standing.  

"Can I help you?" I asked.  
"Whatever happened to you?" 
And before I could answer: 
"Did you fall down?"  
I hesitated. This was it, my last chance to do this right.  
"Well you know the FBI, right?" 
She stared at me blankly.  
"Well I was trying to rescue a kitten while being chased by the..."  
"And you fell down," she pantomimed falling down as she interrupted my tall tale.  

Any hope of ever becoming a storyteller was dashed in that moment.  I stumbled away trailing gauze and a plume of whatever hope looks like when it pops.

Thankfully I still had my humor intact because I went to the break room, made myself a cup of the hard stuff (green tea) and laughed about all these problems I'm so lucky to have.    

Tomorrow I will close all my rings.  Robert's going to wish he never messed with someone who rescues kittens while being chased by the FBI.

bike bike bike

Lately, I've been a little grumbly about bicycling.  It feels like the last thing my body wants to do, and interestingly enough, at times it even seems difficult. While dragging myself up a hill recently an elderly gentleman felt the need to shout, "you're almost there.  You can do it!"

I'm actually more excited about jogging than biking right now, which is absurd. I've been rolling my eyes at my silly self, but I'm also a little proud too.  Though I've been grumbly, I haven't quit.  No siree.  When the weather's right (20 degrees and up, no rain), out comes the bike, and I make every effort to give the ride my full attention and respect.

We all get burned out on our favorite things. Eventually the passion comes back and lights our world on fire again with its magic.

Tonight, while riding my bike home from work, a small boy bolted from his yard and took out after me, running alongside me on the sidewalk shouting, "bike, mom, bike bike bike."

I slowed to a crawl, not only to give the mom a chance to catch up with him, but I also wanted to make the moment last.

As soon as I turned the corner I squealed and fist pumped the air.  That little future track star sure made my day and had my heart shouting bike bike bike.  Tomorrow I ride with nothing but enthusiasm.  

the beauty of a crusty ski mask

Currently I have 5 journals.  

1. good books only 
2. gratitude (anything and everything)
3. work-related gratitude 
4. anything and everything inspirational
5. bicycling/walking

Without a doubt my gratitude journal has changed my life.  It definitely makes me realize just how fortunate I am and what an awesome life I have. It's a journal where there is absolutely no negativity allowed.  Since starting the journal in 2009, there is definitely less space for negativity in my life.

I started the work-related gratitude journal earlier this year, and though I love my job, it's definitely a more challenging experience. There are days I have too many things for the short three lines I'm given and though it's rare, I also sometimes struggle to fill those lines.  When I can't fill those lines I start pushing myself to be more present in my interactions, more observant of the everyday magic at the library, and the lines fill up.  

When I started my work-related gratitude journal there were a couple surprises.  First, because I continuously mention coworkers I now have a spot teeming with proof that librarians really do make a positive impact in the lives of so many people. When we did peer reviews recently I had a wealth of information about my coworkers that I normally would have forgotten, and it was all fantastic stuff. I also didn't realize how much the journal revitalizes and reminds me of my love for the library on the tough days. I flip through it just as often as I write in it. 

In addition to my work-related gratitude journal I also have what started out as a bicycling journal for the days I bike to work. When I started biking to work over four years ago it was a 14 mile round trip.  I saw so many things it was impossible to remember everything!  A couple years ago I switched to a library branch that is much closer to home and now I walk to work as many days as I bike.  So then the bicycling journal shifted into more of a 'how I got to work today and what I saw on the way here' journal.

I love my two work journals immensely. Occasionally I'll have a wonderful patron interaction or be a part of something library-beautiful after my last break, which is my last chance to write, and before I go home I've got to cram in a few more words before the moment disappears.

The journals fuel my already out-of-control enthusiasm. I rarely talk about the journals but I can't stop living what's going on inside of them.  

This morning I threw on my bicycling clothes and rushed to work.  When I got there I couldn't believe how badly my clothes clashed (dark pink pants, light pink top, green socks) and how crusty my ski mask was (eww I know).  And for a moment I was a little ashamed, and I told my journal this.  But last week I exercised so much and biked and walked to work every day except once that I couldn't be upset by the few clean clothes I had left.  I was down to the ugly, weird stuff, and yes, my mask was a terrible sight.  But it was the result of hours and hours of hard work, of living in the moment and pushing my boundaries.  So I said thank you to my ugly clothes and when I put them back on to go home, I wore them proudly.

Later, as I gathered my thoughts of the day I realized something. Writing in my gratitude journals has been such a huge attitude adjustment for me.  Prior to writing in my gratitude journals I'm not sure I would have seen the positivity in my terrible outfit this morning. So here's a thank-you to my gratitude journals. 

a little sad underneath all the happy

My brother, Scott, flew back to Tucson this morning, and I am so sad.

I'm not complaining.  I've had visits from two of my brothers in less than a month so I am extremely grateful and happy.  I'm just a little sad underneath the happy. One of my greatest wishes is to stuff all my loved ones into a snow globe and never let them leave.  

I'm sure they are very happy that I cannot do this.  

Scott and I had a ridiculously good time.  We biked, ate donuts, climbed a wizened and lovable tree, hiked, and played lotsa games - even Quiddler. Sucker!

Pops & Scott

Scott was worried I was going to drag him on a long and brutal bike ride.  I immediately dispelled his fears by taking a quick donut detour off the bike path.  

This grasshopper flew into me and hung on for awhile, gaining my love and affection... Until Scott pointed out that the little shit cutesy wootsy grasshopper was eating my pants (look closely).  

My delight at finding snakes, especially ringnecks, has only ever been completely understood by Scott. We also came across a garter snake who was very grouchy and wanted to eat us, so he doesn't get a spot on the blog.

Scott found two snake skins, one of which still had the eye holes!

I cannot take credit for this next one.  This is all Scott.  

But this little guy peeking into (eating?) a mushroom was all me.  

dear poem bouquet, I'm sorry

I'm still making an effort to keep posting on Poem Bouquet.  I am simply buried in great poems, so I really should be trying harder.  All of my great excuses are not enough.  So here I go again!

Every once in awhile I'm going to post a poem of mine that I've had published.  Today is one of those days.  This is technically the second poem I published.  The first one, which won second place at one of the colleges I attended, is very rough and quite emotional (thus the reason it placed) and not something I feel comfortable sharing anymore.  So I've decided to skip that one and start with the second poem I published, Treasure, which came to fruition during one of my many memorable bike rides to work.  I-70 Review is the journal it's published in (an excellent journal).  

And though I have been terrible at keeping up with my beloved collection of poems, I am going to make an effort to post once a week on Poem Bouquet.  

an eggcellent ride

I had a little extra time so I decided to bike a different way.

And I was rewarded with this:

Kapow!

Earlier this week I came home to a stack of goodies that arrived all on the same day:

Since then I have been in a constant state of mega joy overload. 

Robert's sister, Jennifer, got me jazzed up about Birchbox, and I love it.  For $10 a month you get a box of samples.  Last month I got chapstick and mascara and lotion and a couple other things that I don't understand but are still super pretty.

I am a huge fan of All Trap Music.  I've slowly acquired all four cds, and I can say with certainty that Uppers is my favorite jam.  Today, that is. Itunes has informed me that I've played Uppers an astonishing 38 times so far.  Good stuff.

I also got Dean Morrissey's The Monster Trap.  

Once a month I go to a local used bookstore and usually find a book on my never-ending list.  I also buy one online that's hard to find.  I am very very happy to have secured my very own copy of The Monster Trap.  Unfortunately the first human who reacts the same way I did when I read it the first time will probably end up with my copy.  But sharing is at the top of the joy-of-books list.

The thing I'm most excited about right now, out of all of the goodies and all of the bestest most awesomest things that have happened this past week, was getting my very own copy of Susan Branch's new book, Martha Vineyard, Isle of Dreams.  I adore Susan Branch.  How much do I adore her?  Well, I've been lugging around her book, which weighs about as much as 5 hardback books, in my bike bag the past couple days.  I also love her enough to pause the Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan) comic book series I've been reading and have been absolutely immersed in for the past week.  

Susan Branch's newest book starts out where her last book, The Fairytale Girl, left off, which was after her crushing divorce.  Susan is equal parts devastated and blossoming into her own person, and so for the past couple days I've been alternating between feeling like an awkward Muslim girl who has superhero powers, and having a simultaneous making-my-own-path breakdown/awakening.  

Needless to say that even though my legs are cramped from biking Susan's book all over town, I have felt very badass and eager to help.  After a lady gave me too much change at the library I leapt over a small box of books to get her dollar back before it was too late and she had driven away.  It's possible I'm part inhuman or drunk on life.  Or forever finding my way.  Or forever finding my way through the perspective of the protagonist(s) of the book(s) I'm currently reading.

But I'm certainly ok with putting Ms. Marvel on the shelf for the moment because Susan Branch's book is turning out to be everything I hoped for and more.

I am going to spend my Friday evening playing with whatever's in the pink box this month, listening to some All Trap Music and reading until my dogs make me stop.  

figuring out how to test the viscosity of a funk

I am fortunate because I spend most of my days amped up on life.  Working in a library is a dream fulfilled.  I have a whole whopping hour during lunch to write or sew.  I have the means to ferociously pursue tennis.  I live close enough to bike and walk to many places.  I have had close to 30 years of just about the best health a person can ask for.  My family is supportive and charmingly silly.  The list goes on and on.  

Some days, however, I wake up in a funk.  I know this is a natural part of life, but it seems to especially affect artists and those of us who spend a lot of time with our heads in the clouds.    

There are few days when I am unable to generate new content, work on existing material or even do any of the busywork in an embroidery project without knotting the thread.  I think a big part of creating balance in my life is learning how to accept these days for what they are and not trying to put rectangle thoughts into circular ambitions.

Recently I have started noticing that there are two instruments that for the most part, blend into the background or can be ignored with little or no effort.  If I am in a funk, however, I can hear those two instruments in just about any music.  The heat rises to my face.  I start grinding my teeth.  In less than a minute I am riled.  (At this moment my dad is feeling pretty confident one instrument is a four-string banjo and the other, a five-string banjo.  But my dad also thinks it's funny to pick on banjo players.)

I don't know how it is that I am darn near 30 years old and just now figuring out how to test the viscosity of a funk.  A part of me is exasperated, and yet another part of me feels pretty clever.  

Any day that I wake up feeling a bit off I just have to play a little bit of clarinet or flute music. (banjos are fine.)  If I start to feel riled I have a free pass for the day.  If the clarinet or flute music doesn't disturb me, I roll my eyes at my funk and tell it to take its lame ass somewhere else.

Embracing the funk gives me an opportunity to clean house, give the dogs some extra attention, read my many books or take an extra long bath.  And by the next day I am almost always a little bit more tolerant of clarinets and flutes.  

leaping to touch the leaves on the trees

My bike is in the shop.  Apparently the rear brake has this flaw that makes it grip the tire funny, sometimes even when I'm not even using it.  So that feeling of barely. making. it. to. the. top. of. the. tiny. hill. the last time I rode it had nothing to do with the 6 or so books I was carrying in my panniers. 

I think I'm down with not biking for a couple days.  
Between the core strengthening class I took yesterday coupled with the tennis late last night and early this morning I feel a little beat up.  But I am a little anxious to get my bike back.  I'm missing out on the amazing moments I never see when driving my car.  

The last amazing moment involved a goth girl wearing a hoodie that reached her knees.  Her face was covered in piercings and dark makeup.  She was walking down the sidewalk with a backpack loaded with books, and even with this giant backpack she kept leaping to touch the leaves on the trees.  She didn't even care that I was whizzing by her.  The look on her face was luminous.   

She was carrying a giant bag of paper scraps

The morning's bicycling adventure was a tad too adventurous.  Every gear change jerked my feet from the pedals and a couple times nearly threw me from my bike (time for a check-up apparently).  I was also tired and making dumb mistakes.  The library was empty so I grumbled into my coffee and savagely threw each bite of yogurt into my mouth.

Having eradicated much of the sour bike ride from my system, I shuffled from the break room, ready to work but so very tired.

A couple hours into work one of my favorite volunteers arrived for her shift.  She was carrying a giant bag of paper scraps.

Paper scraps for me.

A few people know I collect paper for my collage projects and instead of throwing anything away they save me their paper trash.  I have quite the paper stash thanks to thoughtful people saving their scraps for me.

So of course this totally turned my day around!  I couldn't wait to take a break so I could peruse the goods and generate new ideas.

Polly the pug

While biking today I saw a lady walking her pug.  The pug went bananas and started barking these silly raspy shrieks.  

The lady shouted, "Polly wants to get that biker.  Get that biker, girl!"

Later, on a more positive note, out of the corner of my eye I saw two high school boys walk past the backboard where I was playing tennis.  They paused their walk and after I finished a long run of hits, shouted, "Awesome!"    

And to think I was almost eaten up by Polly the pug and just shy of never hearing such flattery.  

the little tube of hearts and shit that gets the beak

Last night I had the clever idea to play tennis on the backboard before work rather than afterwards. Some days I work a little later than normal, and today is one of those days.  I had just enough time to bike, play tennis, shower at the gym, get a cup of coffee at the coffee shop and head to work.

After hitting the button for the lights about 70 times I reluctantly left the courts in defeat.  But first I called Robert and bitched for a little bit.  He was on his way to set up the timing system for a track meet and lent a sympathetic ear.  

Apparently the lights are on a timer and if you show up before dawn you're outta luck.  Which reminds me of that saying - Early bird gets the worm, but what about the worm?  Most days I'm the bird. Today was looking like I was going to be the little tube of hearts and shit that gets the beak.  

So I moseyed on over to the coffee shop - no point showering at the gym, which wasn't open.  When I pulled up to the coffee shop the open sign was flashing, but while discovering the door was locked the light stopped flashing.  Apparently the coffee shop opens 30 minutes later on weekends, and while I think the light could have been a figment of my hopeful imagination, I honestly think the barista forgot that it was Saturday and flipped it right at the same time I got to the door.  I have no hard feelings.  I can't tell you how many times I say the wrong time when giving the closing announcement for the library.  I do this often enough that a patron regularly asks if I'm going to get it right.  

So I have no hard feelings for the barista.  She was going to be the one to fill my thermos with coffee, and I don't hold grudges against people with that kind of power.  

While I was standing outside the coffee shop a mouse shot out of the dark and straight into a crack in the sidewalk.  

Ok, I thought, I was meant to see that.  So, when I play tennis tonight after work, which means dinner with friends will be perilously close to my bedtime, I just need to remind myself that if I had played tennis before work I would have never seen the daring feat of a mouse making a sidewalk crack its bitch.  

What the Funk Part II

So the funk was actually a big bad scary sinus infection sneaking up on me and going woogie woogie boo.  The funk was my first clue.  My second clue happened the day before I got sick.  

This is when that scary music starts playing.

The day before I got sick I biked to tennis, continued on to the gym where I took a shower, and then went to work a late shift.  Before I left the house I struggled to medicate Rose, my lovely flower of a golden retriever, who requires a handful of tasty pills to combat her aching hips and arthritis.  Some days she staunchly refuses and I typically grumble a bit and move on.  Not that day.  That day I cajoled, cried, begged and even hollered before forcing her to swallow them, which is not the preferred method because the stupid pills have to be broken into a billion pieces to do so and the only way to break them up is to soak them in water UGH.  

So I was a grumpy mess by the time I left the house.  On the way to tennis I was stuck behind a garbage truck for two blocks, and once I escaped the gut-wrenching fumes, discovered I was being trailed by a line of cars who refused to pass me even though it was a slow road (max speed of 25 mph) with no oncoming traffic.  And while I should have had a whatever attitude about the cars, I stressed and tried to pedal faster.  

By the time I got to tennis I was late because of Rose (faster pedaling equals squat apparently) and had no time to recover before playing, which is one of the few times I need to recover (when going back and forth from tennis to biking) because I get wobbly and uncentered and frankly, a little tired.  On the way to the next gym I had to stop several times because I was out of fumes and had no back-up positive energy.  

After showering I discovered that not only did I pack a dress with tights, which are a nightmare to put on directly after showering, I also had a run in the tights and they had shrunk lengthwise.  I was getting terribly bitchy fast, and the usual elating combination of wearing a dress and an easy downhill ride to work from the gym only made me feel cold and the wrong kind of inhuman.  Normally when so many wonky and/or awful things happen at once my humor kicks in and the writer in me comes out and I get a little excited.  I point my fingers at the keyboard like I'm poking an enemy in the chest - 'Is that all you got huh huh?'

My lack of bravado-laced humor is always a warning.    

The very next day my throat started itching.  I also felt an extreme lack of zest.  This continued for four days and then the sinus infection pounced.  

I spent an uncomfortable few days on the couch watching Star Trek: The Next Generation and eating popsicles until yesterday when suddenly, at 2:03 p.m. I realized I could read and with that realization, the beautific epiphany that I could get even more books at the library.  POOF I was better.

I know I can do so much better

I've been doing a lot of thinking about the goals I want to accomplish in this next year.  In addition to continuing to write in some way every day and spending more time cuddling the three beasts that I share a home with, I have a few more goals:

1.  Learn to play the xylophone.  Yes!  I have been wanting to take a stab at it for years.  Hands down,  it's my favorite instrument and I'd love to get my hands on those mallet things.  My heart will forevermore belong to the brass family, but it's time I take a chance and reach out to the instrument of my dreams.  I don't know if you know this, but I used to play in a bell choir at a Lutheran church while growing up, and I loved it.  I particularly loved plunking them on the soft foam when that sound was needed.  My childhood best friend was a Lutheran so I went to church with her family nearly every week (unless I was fighting with the best friend).

While the Lutherans at this church made me sit in a hallway whenever they were doing anything particularly religious or cultish, I still managed to participate in two important events: the whole cracker/wine combo (which the best friend and I partook in while no one was looking) and bell-ringing.  I even went to a conference in Illinois with the Lutherans and got a t-shirt with Lincoln playing bells on the front.  

So what do bells and the xylophone have to do with each other?  Mostly nothing, but wasn't that a great story?  I do think that I will find the same happiness in the xylophone that I found in bells.  And maybe I can join a band if I'm good?  Any takers?

2.  More silliness.  I haven't been silly enough.  I know I can do so much better.

3.  More hugs for everyone.  Less frowns.  I can probably stand to be less hesitant when tapping into that fountain of empathy that lies just below skepticism and self-conservation.

4.  I need to tackle some of the more outlandish embroidery ideas I have.  Possibly do a cinquain or two in a hoop.

5.  Keep using my car as a treat.  Ditto to cake, book shopping and beer.  And keep using the bike and tennis racket as extensions of my body, which is a very superhero thing to do.

6.  Reach out.

7.  Continue being an integral part of writers connecting to other writers.  Be present and helpful to those in my workshops.  Find answers and resources and remain positive.

8.  Be more like Scott.  The last awesome thing I saw him do?  Offer to buy a drink for one of those bell-ringers that haunt stores around the holidays.  I definitely have room for improvement in this area.

9.  Dance more.  Learn at least 5 dances from this list.

10.  Grow.

11.  Listen.  Keep an ear out for amazing ideas, inspiration and life-changing moments.  For example, after reading The Wheeling Year by Ted Kooser, one of my goals this year is to always put my shoes on standing up because he mentions that it is something he does to maintain balance.  Another example that I just stumbled across is the acronym W.A.I.T., which stands for Why Am I Talking? and borrowed from an audiobook that I'm currently listening to, Miracles Now by Gabrielle Bernstein.  I definitely have trouble with saying way too much and have been using the W.A.I.T approach rather successfully so far. 

What are your goals?

Is this going to hurt?

As most of you know I had knee surgery on October 28^th.  But I know you also want the full scoop.

September 18^th was a typical day off for me.  I rode my bike to a special place and spent a few glorious hours writing poems, including a multi-tiered haiku called ‘Joy.’  After writing, I hopped on my bike and headed to tennis and played a few nasty sets of doubles.  It was a fierce game that left me drained.  Robert had stopped by to watch the last of it, and afterwards, took me to lunch across the street.  I felt fairly drained, but after a bite to eat I was ready to conquer the world again.  I hopped on my bike, and in order to avoid hills, took the long way home.  It was a happy ride.  When I got home I had enough energy to play ball with the dogs before a shower.  I spent the rest of the day reading and writing.  My right knee was a little cramped, but other than that I felt excellent.  For the past few years I combined both biking and tennis in one day several times a week with little or no aches. 

The next day I woke up with a sore left knee.  Furthermore, I was filled with a sense of doom whenever I tried to bend it.  I wasn’t concerned.  As an athlete, I have lots of aches and pains and typically I just badass my way through them.  After a week and a half, however, the pain did not go away, and I could no longer do stairs, let alone tennis or biking.  I decided to see my doctor, who ordered x-rays.  After the x-rays were taken the pain decreased and I began to make plans for yoga and tennis, but just as the plans were finalized I received news that the x-rays showed something awry.  An MRI was ordered, and it showed a tear.  An appointment with an orthopedic surgeon was made, and during the two-week wait I forgot I had a whoopsie in my knee and one night, attempted to tuck it beneath me as I sat down like I have for 28 years.  It felt like a water bottle was being crunched inside my knee.  The pain was fairly intense, not poison sumac between your toes painful, but somewhere between breaking your nose with your knee and ear infection painful.  After that incident, I could barely walk.  When I finally saw the orthopedic surgeon on October 27^th and found out I needed surgery, I didn’t hesitate when I told him I wanted it done ASAP. 

I was a little surprised when he said he had an opening the very next day.  But surprise was erased by discomfort and pain and I was ready to get beyond that and get back to tennis and leaping around like an idiot again. 

The surgery went well.  Frankly, I wasn’t worried about that.  It was like taking an awkward nap.  Pee in a cup, put on an immodest gown, let someone stab me, fall asleep.  Easy.

After the surgery I was hooked up to an ice machine, which pumped cold water into my bandages 24 hours a day.  I could not reach the plug that connected me to the machine.  If I needed to pee someone had to unhook me.  At one point Robert had a job in another city and I was left alone for several hours.  Two friends came and unhooked me and let the dogs out.  One of these friends brought bread pudding, and after I declined a piece and the friend left it dawned on me that the bread pudding was in the kitchen and I was trapped in the living room. 

After the ice machine was removed Robert and I ripped the bandages off with glee.  Ok, carefully… But with glee!  Underneath the bandages I discovered a very strange message just above the offending knee.  It said ‘yes’ with possibly a signature beneath it and was circled with gusto.  By gusto I mean that the line kept going after the circle was finished.  Whatever marker this message was written in is taking its sweet time being removed, which has given me ample time to question what this yes was answering at the time it was written on my leg.  The most obvious question is, “Hey, is this the knee that’s being sliced?”

But I can think of other questions as well like, 

1. Is this going to hurt?

2. Will this be expensive?

3  Which side do you want your IV on?  Oh, sorry, that was a rhetorical question.  You want this in the smallest vein on your body, right?

4. Did you get an improper crutch fitting before this surgery?

5. Did you know your doctor’s nickname is Dr. Zigzag?

6. Do you like Pearl Jam?  No??  Too bad! That was also rhetorical and we’re still going to crank it right before we knock you out. 

7. The last time you ate was at least 72 hours ago, correct?

8. Would you like some applesauce?

9. You do know that, after surgery, your pee will smell like something burning inside a vacuum cleaner, right?

10. Do you have to go up steps before you enter your house?

11. Yes?  Ok, do you know how to sleep in your car?

I also have speculations that the initials just below the ‘yes’ weren’t really initials.  They might be something radically different, like:

1. hahaha

2. muahahaha

3. the Starbucks order the doctor was trying to remember for his surgical team so they weren’t thirsty during surgery

4. how much money the doctor was hoping to make for every strand of menisci that was repaired

5. how much money the doctor still owed on his student loans

6. a grocery list

7. the letters “U Owe Me”

8. a comic relief button that, when pressed, activates the ‘can-can’ muscles in the leg and instantly puts a smile on the face of anyone on the surgical team who is taking the surgery too seriously

9. a treasure map

10. a diagram that either showed where the tear was or how to dance the Robot

After the bandages were off I was ready to get a move on.  Unfortunately, after taking off on the crutches for a day my armpits felt like two raging forest fires.  I decided that crutches were put on this earth to make the original owie disappear.  I vowed to ditch the crutches ASAP, and tossed them aside on Friday.  Sure, I have to use all of my telepathic powers to propel myself up and over a curb, but it is better than listening to my pits scream at me. 

I have another appointment soon, plus physical therapy, plus I get to go back to work.  After two weeks of healing, aka watching Robert attempt to clean house by vacuuming a single line down an area rug and lining up baskets of dirty laundry in our living room like soldiers too tired to make the trek to the basement, I am ready to get back into the library and maybe soon match Robert’s clean patch of rug with another swipe. 

But I don’t want to get carried away.  So far, the road to recovery has been smooth, and according to the strange message on my knee, the answer to a complete and speedy recovery is Yes. . . gobbledygook.