I was walking back from the park today when 3 bikers passed by me. The first two were a boy and an older guy (not sure if this was dad, uncle, big brother). About 2 or 3 seconds later a girl came following behind. All were driving somewhat erratically, expecially compared to the usual bikers that are decked out in spandex.
What was interesting was the girl, or my mental reaction to the girl. She was probably 8 or 9 years old. Her hair was long, brown, wavy, flying out from under her helmet. And she was screaming. Not a high-pitched scream, but a fairly loud, "Aaaaaaaaaaahh!" that was just coming out of her as one constant monotonous sound.
My gut reaction was to scrunch up my face, squint my eyes, and think, "Damn kids." But a split second later I realized I was envious. I think biking erratically down the trail, screaming at the top of my lungs would feel
great, maybe even awesomely splendiferous.
The only things keeping me from doing this are: 1) I have no bike, and 2) I have no crash helmet. I think the crash helmet with the hair flying wildly out of it is key to getting everything I can out of the experience. My birthday's coming up, maybe the birthday fairy (known in the real world as the UPS man) will deliver those 2 things to me.
Not as cold as Kansas, but still, it's quite chilly -- 30s and 40s. It's California kold (cold for us, but not really in the scheme of things, hence the "k" -- fake cold :-) a new courtney-ism). It was quite funny to hear all the weather reporters talk about the snow on Friday here. "It's snowing on Mount So-and-So at 4,000 feet and also on Mount Such-and-Such at 3,500 feet."
The above picture was from the ice storm in Kansas City in 2002. The ice storm sucked, but at least I had power, unlike most of the city. I can't believe an ice storm didn't get us out of work for at least part of a day. This was a fun time for me though (despite the cold, cold weather). It was shortly after I got my dog, Milo. The night I got him we drove home and it started to snow. By morning the entire world was blanketed with a few inches of snow. We would go out, he would be on his leash, pulling me around in the snow like I was on skis (instead of tennis shoes) so he could sniff any and everything within -- do I say smell here instead of sight?
I remember this morning because I had a pair of sheepskin houseshoes on, the kind that have just the skins for soles. I had only had Milo for a short time -- maybe a week or two. We stepped outside, and each individual blade of grass had been frozen, and they stuck through my shoes like I was walking on needles. I had never seen anything like this before (or felt anything quite like it before either). Even Milo wasn't too happy that morning -- he did his business and went right back inside.
He doesn't have to worry about that anymore. It may be too cold for me, but it's not for him.
That should be enough rambling for now. I'm not sure anyone out there is reading, but if you can make sense of this post, good for you! :-) Seems like the ramblings of a mad... hatter to me.
My friend Tiff was in town, so off we went to discover the Haight. We found an awesome bar with some really friendly patrons. Luckily it was warm inside, and I got to see the Licking Wildcats t-shirt I had heard about.
You see, my friend Tiff gets to travel the United States quite a bit. Sometimes she gets to go somewhere cool (like SF so she can see me) and sometimes she gets sent to, for lack of a better term, Hickville USA (sorry folks of Licking, it's true). I guess that all evens out in the end.
Back to the t-shirt. With a name like Licking, you can't leave without getting
some kind of memento with the town name on it. Enter the Licking Wildcats t-shirt. No, it's not a community college team -- it's not even the high school mascot. It's the elementary school's mascot. I know there's a joke here about people with a 4th grade education, but I'll refrain.
Normally I wouldn't be this mean (not in public anyways), especially since the common stereotype for a Tennesseean is I should be barefoot and pregnant with my cousin's baby. But I did my time in the Show Me state (I'll have to rant about that nickname another time) and I can safely say I hope I never have to go back -- that section of the country is about as f*d up and backwards as you can get.
So there -- my mean-ness is showing; you're seeing the true colors. But, it was awesome to see Tiff again, and she's one of two friends I made in Missouri that I get to see this weekend... so I guess the place isn't all bad. It makes for good bonding.
Again. Everything was in tune, bouncing to the beat. Then everything went blank. In a matter of minutes.
Currently, my brain is not accepting any input. It needs to be shocked back to life. Defibrillator anyone?
Nicola Conte had the entire house in a trance. Milo's head bobbed up and down to the music as he stared down the toy squirrel. My icons bounced up and down in the dock. But me -- well, I stayed perfectly still, enjoying the moment, legs in lotus and my breath going in and out to the beat.
Missione A BombayLabels: Music
As a child I had very few dreams that I remembered. There was one, however, that rocked me, and is still as vivid to me today as it was the morning I woke up.
The automatic doors slid open with a whoosh as I stepped into a record store the size of a K-Mart. Every glance was filled with bins and bins of records, laid out in neat rows.
The group dispersed, my mom and dad going one direction, the others in another, leaving me and my best friend to discover on our own. I had my miniature Hello Kitty playing cards with me, so we decided to play.
Drumroll Please. I had decided to try doing the magician's basic trick, making the cards fly from one hand to the other. It didn't work. The cards had now flown all over the store. I bent down to start picking them up, following them in their straight line that snaked around the different aisles.
I had reached the last card. As I went to pick it up I noticed the toe of a cowboy boot. Pan up to the cowboy's face. It stuck terror into the heart of this 5 year old.
"You're coming with me," he said gruffly.
I trembled. "No. Dad?" I looked at him pleadingly, knowing he would help me.
He knelt down on one knee to talk to me, as the others gathered around. The cowboy, too, had his posse surrounding him.
"I think you ought to do what the man says," he replies quietly.
"No, no, no," was all I could think inside. As the cowboy took my hand I took one last look at my dad, then woosh, the doors opened and in an instant we were gone.
Labels: Dreams
