Giving Thanks

        I had my first mountain bike ride in 40 days on Sunday.  This seems biblical to me.  I’d anticipated a lot of fear, anxiety and ineptness on my first ride back since a minor crash landed me with a broken thumb (first metacarpal).  But it was rather blissful –a ride that reminded me of what it is I love about mountain biking.  I’ve missed Carvin’s Cove as much as I’ve missed the trails themselves and the joy of riding with my favorite partner.  I had very little fear and felt surprisingly comfortable back on the single track.  Granted, I did walk a steep creek crossing and over one rocky section but I also rode my favorite log stacks without too much pain.  It’s good to be back at it.

        Another thing I did last weekend was visit the Taubman Museum again.  A girlfriend invited me to join her on Saturday, a “free day” at the museum.  My favorite!  While I’m not a fan of the interior design and under-utilized space, I do enjoy having such a signifcant museum in Roanoke.  They landed Rembrandt afterall.  But the tribute to him, hanging in the first exhibit room was amazing.  We were told that photography was allowed in the room and so I went for it.  You can see an example here: 

        Now I’m enjoying a Thanksgiving vacation at my sister’s new place in Maryland.  She lives on a therapuetic horseback riding farm where she keeps her two horses and two dogs.  I woke up early this morning, walked out her front door, and enjoyed a few minutes with the horses.  One yawned, the other yawned, another yawned, they lipped and played, and so it went.  Later, at sunset, they posed for my camera.  

There is so much to be thankful for.  I cannot count my blessings; there are too many.  But a few are here: mountain biking, favorite riding partners, fine art and funny art, friends to share with, sisters and horses and dogs.

I Won, Prize Above

Remember the below post?  It was written a long time ago, but I never forget a bet, especially when I win.  That’s why I’m sportin’ some cute new shoes.  Just so you know, and regardless of the new shoes, I’m feeling pretty good about things.

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I woke up thinking about shoes. I need a pair of cute, sexy heals to wear with a new dress for a wedding next weekend. Maybe it’s easier, and certainly more fun, to think about the shoes than to think of the wedding itself? This, the first wedding since my own over 4 years ago. My friends are long ago married; they have children now and  families.

The next wedding I forsee –my ex-husband’s. I have a wager for a bottle of scotch hinging it. I don’t often win these regular bets with my former brother-in-law, but this one; I think I got it in the bag. My plan: forgo the scotch, take the money, buy some cute shoes. Can’t wait!

Wintering Bluebirds

My bluebirds, 6 or more, appear to be wintering over.  To encourage them to stay close I’m going to make the following recipe, provided by a local bird club:

Bluebird Miracle Meal

4 cups yellow cornmeal

1 cup flour

1 cup melted lard

1 teaspoon corn oil

Add sunflower hearts, peanuts hearts, or raisins that have been chopped and soaked.  Let set, cut into chunks, feed as suet.

Hard Drive

All of those photograph headers I use when I post blogs are my own (except for the last one, this one, and maybe a few others here and there).  Many are unexceptional for sure, but others I’m a little proud of.  My adoration for photography comes to me from my mom, whom I would happily pose for as a child and who later encouraged a Master’s degree with a photography emphasis.  She also kept photo albums, one a year since the year she and my dad were married.  This too was a routine I followed until a few years ago when I explored online options, hardly the same, but more convenient now that I’ve gone digital.  I know that as she criticizes me for looking back she is guilty of the same sweet indulgence.  “You’re always looking over your shoulder,” she says. But what good are our experiences if we don’t savor them in our memories or through the medium of image from time to time?  We can’t reap all of our rewards or learn all of our lessons in one fell swoop; we must pull from behind to envisage ahead.

Last weekend, in an effort to clean my computer’s innards, I deleted all of my pictures.  This was an accident that comes from my ignorance of all things technological.  Gone, in one click.  I sweat. I cried.  I labored over google searches for help.  By late Tuesday night (3 agony filled days later) I had them retrieved and nestled on an external hard drive.  All 4,000 or so of them.  While they were gone, in those 3 days, I wondered if my own memories were strong enough to recapture images.  It’s not.  I’m visual and there is nothing better than a capture in full color of my beloved dog waiting for a stick in an icy pond in New Hampshire.  His crystaline eyes alert, his head slightly tilted, a lingering sign of a seizure he suffered, his strong legs perched on a submerged boulder as he waits, so still there is not a ripple.  In truth, this image is saved in a frame in my den.  I look at it regularly and reflect on his life and his impact on my own.  This is Jackson.  I’ve been meaning to tell his story and I’ll get to it someday.  Soon.  It’s a big story, interwoven with others of love, family, separation, strength and loss, happiness too.  I cannot separate my own story from his. I cannot fully indulge without the use of images, of which there are hundreds.  Jackson here, Jackson there; I love them all.  Maybe I struggle to tell his story because it is still unfolding?  He is still so much alive for me, in essence, in spirit, in me.  So it might be with all of those images on my hard drive.  Pieces of me, undetached.  Undetachable.

The West Coast is Calling

Maybe a move is in my future?  I’m ashamed and saddened by my city today.  Not only do people drive way too slowly here, they also litter more than anywhere else I’ve ever seen, and last night the majority voted for Bill Cleaveland.  To see just how bad a thing that is I peaked at his website.  I cried.  In star-bullets he boasts:

“The FAMILY is the foundation of our society. Marriage should be between one man and one woman. We must safeguard human life from conception to the grave.”  He also supports gas and oil drilling off Virginia’s coast.

I said I’d move but I know better –you can run but you can’t hide.  I think instead I’ll go pass out condoms opposite the pro-lifers at Planned Parenthood.  And I’ll make a Mind Your Own Uterus sign.  And I’ll go ride my bike and recount all the things I do love about living here.

Read Mountain, Same Time, Second Year

I’m making a concerted effort to not complain or write about negative events.  That means I can’t tell you about the ill man, probably homeless and drunk, (I say this only bc this is a regular occurrence at this location and based on details that I don’t care to expand on) keeling over on a busy road Saturday morning while I waited for an oil change at the not-very-quick lube place.  After an hour of waiting they still hadn’t take my car back so I left.  The man left too, in an ambulance after 6 policeman and 1 fire truck responded to a passerby’s call.  I can’t complain about the ensuing conversations in the not-very-quick lube either (There goes our tax money.  That ambulance ride’ll cost $500, $500 he doesn’t have.  He’ll get a free ride, a bed and a meal on us.) Lucky SOB.  I’ll refrain from complaining about the jeweler who said my most beloved ring was poorly made and that they are somehow too busy now to pop 2 diamonds back in place.  I’m complaining.  I’ll stop.  It’s a sign that, on Saturday anyhow, my life swung way out of that blissfully balanced spot I’d been reveling in (see “Chill”).   In my irritability I attracted some unpleasant interactions with my fellow people, including a woman at Dunkin’ Donuts.

A bike ride later that day helped ease me back toward middle ground, my longest ride in 3 weeks!  And a hike up Read Mountain did the final doings on Sunday.  This time last year B, Carlie and I did the same hike.  This year makes twice and the start of a tradition.  It’s an easy 1.9 up and 1.9 down with some not-very inspiring vistas en route but I love the hike just the same.  The trail is spattered with rocks and interesting slopes and dips, and if at the vistas one only looks out and not down then the mountains and sky come in to view, not the endless overdevelopment of SE Roanoke.  The top has small rocky ledges, perfect for two who want to snooze or daydream in the sun.  Roanoke unfolds below with the mountains in nearly circular form wrapping around the city.  We walked slowly.  We chatted.  We laughed at Carlie chasing chipmunks.  My horoscope for the day said to take part in a rejuvenating activity and I followed.  It worked.  It is gratitude I feel, and balance, and love.

Photo Share

I’ve always enjoyed a lot of walks with my favorite side-kick.  We headed down to the pond last week to catch some fall color, check the view of Mason’s Knob and to look for the herons who have been dropping by.  I snapped this cute angelic-like shot.  This weekend we’ve got plans to revisit Read Mountain and I’m looking forward to soaking in some of the color and taking a few more photographs.  

Matrix Realignment

When I compose my list of “Gratitudes” my sister’s name is always there.  My life would be vastly different, and much less meaningful without her.  It’s not just the countless phone calls, shopping trips, dog walks, or Thanksgivings we now have as tradition together; it’s also the coaching, counseling, and fact that she “gets” me and I (for the most part) “get” her.  Because she is the best coach, counselor and spiritual adviser I’ve ever had, I am a little protective of her and our time together.  So it is with a bit of hesitation that I share with you her newly launched website:

Matrix Realignment Healing

It is with great emotional maturity, and esteem and respect for her that I share this.  I want her to do well and she will.  She has studied and trained in coaching and light energy healing for years now and it’s time she offered her services to the rest of you.  I trust I will always be her number one student and client.

Her site is still in progress, but give it a click and see what you think.

Chill

It’s been just about 2 weeks now since I broke a bone in my hand, and 1 week since I had surgery to repair it.  I fully expected to be crying regularly and depressed.  After all, I haven’t been off my bike for more than a handful of days in over 8 or 9 years.  8-9 years! In snowy New England and cold mid-west I just left my bike on the trainer or took spinning classes through the winter months (November on).  I used to run a lot more then too.  But here I am, 2 weeks into it, almost out of it, and not a lick of exercise except for some nice long walks.  And I’m feeling pretty good about things.  I might even say I’m happy.  My counselor-in-training said I looked “chilled-out” the other night.  That’s about when it dawned on me that I am.  I am happy to have this time off of my bikes.  There, I said it.  I love them all; I long for more; I daydream about rides to come, but…this minor little accident has forced some balance into my life, and a new, more relaxed perspective on my addiction.

Behemoth cast comes off tomorrow.  I’ll get a smaller one that I can take on and off.  That also means I’ll get to ask my Dr. when I can ride again.  He’d said 4-6 weeks before which would mean at least 2 more weeks which might mean there is a one-handed ride in my future.  I’m chilled out now, but I’m no fool.  This won’t last.

Third Day Blues

I was supposed to feel well enough today to meet my parents for lunch.  They offered to meet in Bedford or drive here from Lynchburg, but either option felt like too much.  My mom emailed to say she was disappointed but to take it easy, that I was probably feeling the “Third Day Blues.”  I googled this too see if it was a mom-ism or actual phenomenon.   Turns out it’s real.  Normally it’s applied to postpartum women, but I found some post-op info that I identified with.  It’s a combo of emotions, like sadness, let down, and realizations, as well as hormone and metabolic shifts that all add up to depression.  That’s about where I am today, a full day early, but depressed and rolling with it.  I stayed in the pj’s until a few hours ago.  I watched “He’s just not that in to you” which was surprisingly good.  I ate ice cream.  And then, at the advice of a random website detailing “Third Day Blues” I took a walk with Carlie.  We found some amazingly gigantic puffball mushrooms; I cried briefly and pathetically at the realization that it’s been 7 days since I last rode a bike or had any solid exercise save for a walk; and I ran in to 2 chatty mountain bikers, one who knew me from mutual facebook friends.  We talked about mountain biking and broken bones, and though I felt woozy and lightheaded it was good to be out, socializing as it was.  I even had a moment of creative genius when I thought of a new “app” for cell phones: a mirror.  Wouldn’t that be handy for fishing the spinach out of your teeth or the bug out of your eye on the fly?  I’m not quite sure what to do with this pearl; maybe I’ll just post it on facebook.  In about another week I’ll be able to post something like “I rode my bike today,”  and this little spell will pass…it’s lifting a bit already.

*I have since googled the mirror idea and turns out I’m a little late, as usual.