So tomorrow is surgery. My mom is a trooper. She's like, okay, bring it on.
We had a nice day today, the four of us. I took Maggie over this morning and she hung out with my mom while my dad and I went to coffee for Father's Day. We had a nice time at coffee. It was the usual Sunday morning crew and they did not disappoint. Plus there was a cheese danish and a tasty cup of coffee in it for him, not to mention a good time playing Matchbox cars with the owners' two year old son. I took him back home (with an oatmeal raisin cookie the size of a hubcap for my mother) and then hit the gym. My trainer and I had a good workout, which included a lot of time throwing things at him. I picked up lunch for my folks and myself, and we hung out a while. My mom and I cleaned out my car and made a trip to their garage.
I came back home and decided I would finally try and jump start the bike. Which...didn't go so well. At first I couldn't get the seat off (the battery's underneath the seat). So I called Jen, who was awesome and came over to help. While she was on her way I remembered the owner's manual sitting on my dresser, and discovered that getting the seat off a Harley is surprisingly uncomplicated. But it was good that Jen came anyway, because then I couldn't figure out how to get to the battery. The owner's manual was COMPLETELY USELESS for this. We futzed. We poked. I swore a lot. We couldn't make the picture match the scenario in front of us. At which point we invoked my Harley Roadside Assistance, which, it turns out, only tows the bike, no matter what's wrong with it. So we called the Harley dealership in Raleigh and the guy tried to talk us through taking the battery out. We tried and poked and shoved and prodded and I swore some more, but we couldn't get the damn thing out. Which is frustrating, because how am I supposed to get the thing out to charge it in the winter?! We finally gave up. I will probably throw in the towel and tow the bike to the dealership...next weekend. And while I'm there, I'll make them teach me how to take out the damn battery.
I went and got my nails done after Jen left and the guy commented on the grease under my nails. I just smiled and shrugged. I picked a nice shade of breast-cancer-awareness pink and pretty soon the grease was gone. I picked up dinner on the way back to my folks' and we had the best pizza for dinner that Durham has to offer (my folks finally got the sausage pizza they've been unable to find at the grocery store, and I got my very favorite: Chicago-style deep dish - it's not stuffed, but it's a reasonable approximation of Chicago pan pizza - with broccoli, green peppers, and feta cheese. Seriously, it's the best thing ever). My mom and dad added some Texas Toast they had in the freezer and we had a nice little meal. We watched some SVU and played with Maggie. We planned for the morning and Mags and I came on home.
It was a good Sunday.
Will keep y'all posted tomorrow.
Showing posts with label vroom vroom. Show all posts
Showing posts with label vroom vroom. Show all posts
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Sunday, May 01, 2011
More weekend, please.
It's been a nice weekend.
Had a good ride yesterday. Went down to the motorcycle shop nearby looking for a cargo net (they were sold out) and took the looooong way back. I did much better on this ride. I'm definitely doing better than I was, say, 200 miles ago when I bought the bike. And it was really nice. There were a lot of other bikers out on the road, too, which was cool. I need to keep riding. One of my biker friends just sent me a link to a map of a ride they take often, which I need to try out one of these days.
Had a nice visit with Olga last night, too. She's recovering nicely from her pneumonia and her bedsore is healing. It's such a long road for her - it's been 10 weeks since the fire, and although she has a long way to go, she's come so far. She's so awesome and amazing. I'm glad we're friends.
Went for sushi last night with some coffee friends and friends of theirs. Met some fun new people. Hung out with some fun folks I already knew. Ate some really good vegetarian sushi (I love me some good vegetarian sushi). Had a really good time.
Today was a little more laid back. Coffee with the Village, lunch with the girls. Worked out with my trainer. Tried to take a nap (didn't work). Dishes, laundry, blah, blah, blah. Can't complain about today except that it's followed by a Monday.
I start consults tomorrow. I'm definitely looking forward to the lower intensity. It'll be nice to have a little change of pace....
Had a good ride yesterday. Went down to the motorcycle shop nearby looking for a cargo net (they were sold out) and took the looooong way back. I did much better on this ride. I'm definitely doing better than I was, say, 200 miles ago when I bought the bike. And it was really nice. There were a lot of other bikers out on the road, too, which was cool. I need to keep riding. One of my biker friends just sent me a link to a map of a ride they take often, which I need to try out one of these days.
Had a nice visit with Olga last night, too. She's recovering nicely from her pneumonia and her bedsore is healing. It's such a long road for her - it's been 10 weeks since the fire, and although she has a long way to go, she's come so far. She's so awesome and amazing. I'm glad we're friends.
Went for sushi last night with some coffee friends and friends of theirs. Met some fun new people. Hung out with some fun folks I already knew. Ate some really good vegetarian sushi (I love me some good vegetarian sushi). Had a really good time.
Today was a little more laid back. Coffee with the Village, lunch with the girls. Worked out with my trainer. Tried to take a nap (didn't work). Dishes, laundry, blah, blah, blah. Can't complain about today except that it's followed by a Monday.
I start consults tomorrow. I'm definitely looking forward to the lower intensity. It'll be nice to have a little change of pace....
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Easter
What a great day.
Met with my trainer first thing this morning. The gym was so empty! We had a great session, and he even let me throw things at him at the end (always a good day). Was gross and sweaty, but went to coffee anyway. Today was mostly just the Village, which was sort of nice. Had a skinny caramel latte to celebrate the beautiful Spring day. Had a really good time with my friends. Stayed a little too long.
Ran home and showered, made it to Shady Pines before the priest from the local Greek Orthodox church came to do a shut-in visit for my parents. It was actually quite a lovely visit. I hadn't met him before, but he was a really nice man. We sang Christos Anesti, prayed a little, and then he gave them communion, and me too - I told him I felt weird about it - I'm no exactly a shut-in - but he said some very kind and convincing things.
Afterwards we went to the Easter brunch at SP. We sat with two of the friends my parents sit with for dinner most nights. They're adorable. They've been married for 68 years. Sixty-eight! It's amazing, really. I can't even get my head around how you meet someone at 17 and know they're the one you're going to be old with, have kids and a life and cancer with. And they're just totally cute as anything. We should all be half as lucky. She's dealing with breast cancer now, too, and is a few months ahead of my mom in terms of the schedule of things. She's doing so well. She's a great influence for my mom, I think. A good support and a great role model.
After lunch I brought Maggie home and then - for the first time in like six weeks - I went out on the bike. It went pretty well. The ride was beautiful, down by the lake and out in the country. I got a little lost, and ended up at the hospital. I can get home from there in my sleep (and probably have), but it required me to ride on a couple of big roads. Funny, they weren't as scary as I was anticipating. Especially after I'd found myself in a couple of 55 mph zones out in the country. I did a pretty good job, mechanically speaking, too. I only stalled the bike out twice, had one ugly turn and one sketchy downshift. I've got to start getting out on the bike regularly again. After all, there's only one way I'm going to get good at this.
The rest of my day was less exciting - cleaned the kitchen, did the dishes, made lunch salads for the week, etc. But on the whole, it was a very lovely Sunday. And a good Easter.
Met with my trainer first thing this morning. The gym was so empty! We had a great session, and he even let me throw things at him at the end (always a good day). Was gross and sweaty, but went to coffee anyway. Today was mostly just the Village, which was sort of nice. Had a skinny caramel latte to celebrate the beautiful Spring day. Had a really good time with my friends. Stayed a little too long.
Ran home and showered, made it to Shady Pines before the priest from the local Greek Orthodox church came to do a shut-in visit for my parents. It was actually quite a lovely visit. I hadn't met him before, but he was a really nice man. We sang Christos Anesti, prayed a little, and then he gave them communion, and me too - I told him I felt weird about it - I'm no exactly a shut-in - but he said some very kind and convincing things.
Afterwards we went to the Easter brunch at SP. We sat with two of the friends my parents sit with for dinner most nights. They're adorable. They've been married for 68 years. Sixty-eight! It's amazing, really. I can't even get my head around how you meet someone at 17 and know they're the one you're going to be old with, have kids and a life and cancer with. And they're just totally cute as anything. We should all be half as lucky. She's dealing with breast cancer now, too, and is a few months ahead of my mom in terms of the schedule of things. She's doing so well. She's a great influence for my mom, I think. A good support and a great role model.
After lunch I brought Maggie home and then - for the first time in like six weeks - I went out on the bike. It went pretty well. The ride was beautiful, down by the lake and out in the country. I got a little lost, and ended up at the hospital. I can get home from there in my sleep (and probably have), but it required me to ride on a couple of big roads. Funny, they weren't as scary as I was anticipating. Especially after I'd found myself in a couple of 55 mph zones out in the country. I did a pretty good job, mechanically speaking, too. I only stalled the bike out twice, had one ugly turn and one sketchy downshift. I've got to start getting out on the bike regularly again. After all, there's only one way I'm going to get good at this.
The rest of my day was less exciting - cleaned the kitchen, did the dishes, made lunch salads for the week, etc. But on the whole, it was a very lovely Sunday. And a good Easter.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Biker Bitch diaries, chapter 1
Dear Car Drivers,
It's that time of year again (at least in NC). The weather is turning back to spring-like wonderful, and bikers fairweather and hardcore alike are polishing up their chrome and taking to the streets. This includes a whole bunch of newly forged riders. Classes are starting up again, and those of us who learned in the fall haven't gotten a whole lot of riding days this winter (especially those of us who are still too scared to ride to work).
Please, please be patient with us.
Remember when you were a pimply little fifteen-year-old, behind the wheel for the first time? Was it a rush? Sure. But if you're like most of us, putting that car into drive and taking your foot off the brake was pretty intimidating.
Imagine doing that in a convertible. With no doors. And no roll bar. And no passenger seat. Oh, and instead of that comfy bucket seat you were in, you had to straddle the seat. And you had to balance the car, yourself, and anyone or anything you carried with you, all while steering, clutching, shifting, accelerating, and braking. Now imagine you've been driving a car for like 17 years and suddenly have to learn to drive all over again in the aforementioned one-seated doorless two wheeled convertible.
And here's the other bit of information to consider - you remember the hours of driving on the range, while your instructor sat next to you with his own set of brakes? Remember going out on the road with that giant sign that said Student Driver on top? Do you recall all the hours behind the wheel one has to log before getting their drivers license, and, with the new graduated licenses, after? Yeah, one weekend class and a 30 question computerized test and suddenly I'm licensed to be out on a motorcycle, by myself or with passengers, on the same roads you're on. That doesn't mean I'm any good at it.
But I am trying.
So here's what I want you to know.
Listen, just give me a little space, here. I know I ride like a granny, going 5 miles under the speed limit with my left blinker on. I know I jerk around a little when I shift and I know I just stalled the bike out like 37 times when the light turned green. But unless your passenger is bleeding or in labor, give me a break, okay? Think of me as the sixteen year old kid out there trying to learn to drive stick. I can talk a big game, but I've only ridden less that 200 miles in my entire life. Compare that to what's probably close to 250,000 that I've clocked in a car. I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet.
Don't honk. For the love of God, don't honk. It will only make me more anxious, and you know what? That damn thing is loud outside your car.
I'm new at this. I don't trust the bike. And I'm going to wait for every single car to go before I turn, because I'm terrified I'll wipe out on the turn. Not that I ever have, and not that it's especially likely, but just have a little patience.
Yep, if that car pulls out a quarter mile ahead of me, I'm going to slow down. You should too.
Likewise, because I'm taught to scan the road, because I don't have my radio on, and because I'm out and exposed I might see a hazard before you. If you see my brake lights, slow down.
I stop faster than you do. Please leave an appropriate space cushion.
I don't trip stoplights because I'm so small. My bike weighs less than 600 lbs, your car is close to a ton. I do, however, have the legal right to treat a red light as a stop sign if I've been sitting there for more than three minutes (at least in NC). Because I'm still unsure of myself, though, I probably won't. So when you finally pull up behind me, know that I'm so incredibly grateful (even if we then miss the light because I keep stalling out the bike).
I am just as scared as you are that I'm going to go down in front of you, and even more scared that you're going to run me over. It's unlikely, but that doesn't mean either of us isn't thinking about it. The answer to this, however, is NOT to ride my ass.
Stop texting while you're driving. I know, I know, I do it too sometimes, but it's really not safe.
Please, give us room. Be patient, and polite, and we will too. This beginner phase won't last more than a few thousand miles. And always, always, always look twice. "I didn't see him" is no reason to hit one of us. Look, listen, and look again. Everyone wants to get home alive and safe. I have people depending on me, too.
Thanks.
Kate
PS - alright, fellow bikers, what did I miss?
It's that time of year again (at least in NC). The weather is turning back to spring-like wonderful, and bikers fairweather and hardcore alike are polishing up their chrome and taking to the streets. This includes a whole bunch of newly forged riders. Classes are starting up again, and those of us who learned in the fall haven't gotten a whole lot of riding days this winter (especially those of us who are still too scared to ride to work).
Please, please be patient with us.
Remember when you were a pimply little fifteen-year-old, behind the wheel for the first time? Was it a rush? Sure. But if you're like most of us, putting that car into drive and taking your foot off the brake was pretty intimidating.
Imagine doing that in a convertible. With no doors. And no roll bar. And no passenger seat. Oh, and instead of that comfy bucket seat you were in, you had to straddle the seat. And you had to balance the car, yourself, and anyone or anything you carried with you, all while steering, clutching, shifting, accelerating, and braking. Now imagine you've been driving a car for like 17 years and suddenly have to learn to drive all over again in the aforementioned one-seated doorless two wheeled convertible.
And here's the other bit of information to consider - you remember the hours of driving on the range, while your instructor sat next to you with his own set of brakes? Remember going out on the road with that giant sign that said Student Driver on top? Do you recall all the hours behind the wheel one has to log before getting their drivers license, and, with the new graduated licenses, after? Yeah, one weekend class and a 30 question computerized test and suddenly I'm licensed to be out on a motorcycle, by myself or with passengers, on the same roads you're on. That doesn't mean I'm any good at it.
But I am trying.
So here's what I want you to know.
Listen, just give me a little space, here. I know I ride like a granny, going 5 miles under the speed limit with my left blinker on. I know I jerk around a little when I shift and I know I just stalled the bike out like 37 times when the light turned green. But unless your passenger is bleeding or in labor, give me a break, okay? Think of me as the sixteen year old kid out there trying to learn to drive stick. I can talk a big game, but I've only ridden less that 200 miles in my entire life. Compare that to what's probably close to 250,000 that I've clocked in a car. I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet.
Don't honk. For the love of God, don't honk. It will only make me more anxious, and you know what? That damn thing is loud outside your car.
I'm new at this. I don't trust the bike. And I'm going to wait for every single car to go before I turn, because I'm terrified I'll wipe out on the turn. Not that I ever have, and not that it's especially likely, but just have a little patience.
Yep, if that car pulls out a quarter mile ahead of me, I'm going to slow down. You should too.
Likewise, because I'm taught to scan the road, because I don't have my radio on, and because I'm out and exposed I might see a hazard before you. If you see my brake lights, slow down.
I stop faster than you do. Please leave an appropriate space cushion.
I don't trip stoplights because I'm so small. My bike weighs less than 600 lbs, your car is close to a ton. I do, however, have the legal right to treat a red light as a stop sign if I've been sitting there for more than three minutes (at least in NC). Because I'm still unsure of myself, though, I probably won't. So when you finally pull up behind me, know that I'm so incredibly grateful (even if we then miss the light because I keep stalling out the bike).
I am just as scared as you are that I'm going to go down in front of you, and even more scared that you're going to run me over. It's unlikely, but that doesn't mean either of us isn't thinking about it. The answer to this, however, is NOT to ride my ass.
Stop texting while you're driving. I know, I know, I do it too sometimes, but it's really not safe.
Please, give us room. Be patient, and polite, and we will too. This beginner phase won't last more than a few thousand miles. And always, always, always look twice. "I didn't see him" is no reason to hit one of us. Look, listen, and look again. Everyone wants to get home alive and safe. I have people depending on me, too.
Thanks.
Kate
PS - alright, fellow bikers, what did I miss?
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Just a little bit more, please...
Mags and I have had a busy weekend. Well, me more than her. I could still use a little more weekend, though. I have this dream of some day working four-day weeks...
Yesterday was crazy productive. Went to coffee, picked up my grocery order (my local grocery chain has this setup where you can order ahead online and then pick it up without leaving your car. It's pretty sweet). Went to the Jeep dealership (finally) and got the weird noise checked out (it's only been there for about the last ten thousand miles. I finally got over there because I have 400 miles left on my warranty). Stayed there for longer than I had hoped, where I was held hostage and subjected to multiple episodes of That's So Raven and Hannah Montana on a very large, very loud TV. Now, mind you, no one in the place but me was under 45. Once I successfully avoided gouging my eyes out, I rewarded myself by going and picking up a new pair of riding boots, because apparently I broke my other ones when I fell. I also got a wicked cool $10 tank top at the Harley dealership. I went to the gym, I got stinky, I came home and took a nice long nap and hid under the covers for a while after I woke up, snuggling with my warm puppy. It was lovely.
Today was pretty useful as well. Coffee, breakfast with the crew, Target, the gym...a shower, some laundry, the dishes...not pretty, but it has to be done. Much nicer was finally getting back out on the bike this afternoon. Which, I admit it, there's a problem with that.
I'm scared of the bike.
I don't know why, especially. I'm fine. Yes, I fell off. Yes, falling off a motorcycle at 20 miles an hour or so hurts. But I'm fine. The bike is fine. Everything's f-i-n-e. So what the heck is the problem?? I'm still not sure. But it scares me. I don't feel like I control the bike well (of course I don't. I've ridden less than 150 miles in my whole entire life. No one expects me to be great at this yet). I feel exposed all of a sudden. I feel inadequate and inept. I'm - I'll say it - scared I'm going to die on the dumb thing. All fears I had before, but now I get so anxious at the thought of riding it makes me queasy.
But I got on the bike. And I will continue to get on the bike, riding safely and conservatively, until it doesn't scare me anymore and I'm back to a healthy level of respect for the risk I assume on the bike.
And I'm going to take the class again in April. I think that'll help a lot.
Yesterday was crazy productive. Went to coffee, picked up my grocery order (my local grocery chain has this setup where you can order ahead online and then pick it up without leaving your car. It's pretty sweet). Went to the Jeep dealership (finally) and got the weird noise checked out (it's only been there for about the last ten thousand miles. I finally got over there because I have 400 miles left on my warranty). Stayed there for longer than I had hoped, where I was held hostage and subjected to multiple episodes of That's So Raven and Hannah Montana on a very large, very loud TV. Now, mind you, no one in the place but me was under 45. Once I successfully avoided gouging my eyes out, I rewarded myself by going and picking up a new pair of riding boots, because apparently I broke my other ones when I fell. I also got a wicked cool $10 tank top at the Harley dealership. I went to the gym, I got stinky, I came home and took a nice long nap and hid under the covers for a while after I woke up, snuggling with my warm puppy. It was lovely.
Today was pretty useful as well. Coffee, breakfast with the crew, Target, the gym...a shower, some laundry, the dishes...not pretty, but it has to be done. Much nicer was finally getting back out on the bike this afternoon. Which, I admit it, there's a problem with that.
I'm scared of the bike.
I don't know why, especially. I'm fine. Yes, I fell off. Yes, falling off a motorcycle at 20 miles an hour or so hurts. But I'm fine. The bike is fine. Everything's f-i-n-e. So what the heck is the problem?? I'm still not sure. But it scares me. I don't feel like I control the bike well (of course I don't. I've ridden less than 150 miles in my whole entire life. No one expects me to be great at this yet). I feel exposed all of a sudden. I feel inadequate and inept. I'm - I'll say it - scared I'm going to die on the dumb thing. All fears I had before, but now I get so anxious at the thought of riding it makes me queasy.
But I got on the bike. And I will continue to get on the bike, riding safely and conservatively, until it doesn't scare me anymore and I'm back to a healthy level of respect for the risk I assume on the bike.
And I'm going to take the class again in April. I think that'll help a lot.
Sunday, January 09, 2011
The dog ate my post.
No she didn't. But Blogger did. I have no idea what happened to the - short and relatively uninteresting - post that I wrote yesterday. But, like I said - short and uninteresting, so, not really a big loss.
It's been a nice weekend. Lots of time with friends and with my parents. Maggie finally got a bath yesterday. We went to a new groomer - a friend of Garth's - who was fantastic, and who rides a motorcycle. She was great, and Miss Mags is all fluffy and good-smelling and soft again. It's lovely.
Bill had a gallery showing yesterday, which was a lot of fun. He's been taking a photography class, and one of his submissions won in the class competition in the Abstract category. It's a beautiful macro shot of bubbles in amber glass. So they had a little reception and showing for all the winners in the college library. A bunch of us went to support him (except for the two of us who were at two separate funerals. Which I fine eerie). It was neat, and some of the photos were really fabulous. (I'll be honest. A few left me thinking, "I've got much better shots than that...")
I did get out on the bike for a minute yesterday. Something still doesn't feel right. I don't think it's just anxiety. Garth and Bill have both offered to ride it for me and check it out, and I'll probably take them both up on it. We'll see, I guess. Alls I know is that two miles I rode yesterday was hell for uncomfortable.
Today was mostly errands. Coffee, then laundry, groceries, etc. More time with friends and family.
All in all, a good weekend. I could still use a little more, but then, when is that not true....?
It's been a nice weekend. Lots of time with friends and with my parents. Maggie finally got a bath yesterday. We went to a new groomer - a friend of Garth's - who was fantastic, and who rides a motorcycle. She was great, and Miss Mags is all fluffy and good-smelling and soft again. It's lovely.
Bill had a gallery showing yesterday, which was a lot of fun. He's been taking a photography class, and one of his submissions won in the class competition in the Abstract category. It's a beautiful macro shot of bubbles in amber glass. So they had a little reception and showing for all the winners in the college library. A bunch of us went to support him (except for the two of us who were at two separate funerals. Which I fine eerie). It was neat, and some of the photos were really fabulous. (I'll be honest. A few left me thinking, "I've got much better shots than that...")
I did get out on the bike for a minute yesterday. Something still doesn't feel right. I don't think it's just anxiety. Garth and Bill have both offered to ride it for me and check it out, and I'll probably take them both up on it. We'll see, I guess. Alls I know is that two miles I rode yesterday was hell for uncomfortable.
Today was mostly errands. Coffee, then laundry, groceries, etc. More time with friends and family.
All in all, a good weekend. I could still use a little more, but then, when is that not true....?
Saturday, January 01, 2011
Ponytails and Dirty Nails
That's what little biker girls are made of.
So I fell on the bike yesterday.
Relax, I'm fine. The side I landed on is sore today. The biggest bruise I have is from my armor. And oddly, the only thing that I actually injured is the thumb on the side opposite to which I fell. I have no explanation for that. Did ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans, though.
I went riding yesterday with Garth and Ginny. I did a little work on the bike first - added mirror extenders, fixed my tire pressure. Felt all proud of myself. I rode over to Garth's, met up with them, and then we went to a local wine tasting. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, actually. I'm already anxious enough on the bike; at no point did I expect to consume more than half a glass of wine, and I have the alcohol tolerance of a horse, so I didn't logically expect that it would impair me. Logically. Which is rarely what rules me. I ended up pouring most of my pours into Ginny's glass, because I was worried about getting on the bike with any alcohol in my system. And I doubt it was a factor in the fall, but I guess, who knows.
We left there, and Garth suggested we go for a ride. I was down, of course. But, here's the rub: Garth is a much more experienced rider than I am. And naturally he rides very differently. He also rides a sport bike, where mine is more of a cruiser, so they handle differently. And I've only put about 100 miles on my bike; I'm still not really used to it. I'm still not a very experienced rider. But I dutifully tried to keep up with Garth. And early in our ride, we came to a stoplight about five minutes from my house. It turned green; Garth took off. I tried to follow. Just into the intersection I tried to shift into second gear. I think I gave it a little too much throttle with the clutch in, and I think I let the clutch out too fast. There may have been some sand on the road (accidents are always a confluence of things). The bike flailed. I just lost control. And down I went.
I'm fine. Really. I got up. I pulled the bike up. A very nice police officer was behind me in seconds. I got back on the bike, rode into a parking lot, waited for Garth and Ginny to come back, which they did (Ginny saw me go down, apparently). I rode home, Garth gave my bike a more thorough look-over, and I went in to change out of the jeans that were now ripped over my entire right thigh. I was going to get back into the ride, but then I put on my clean pair of jeans and the button promptly fell off. My thumb hurt. I didn't have a clean pair of pants to wear. I took it as an omen and sent them on their way. I put on some sweats, got in the car, and went to buy new jeans and a new helmet. I was very cool until I got into the car. I texted a friend to talk me down, but he never responded. Which could be because I was like, "Uh, hey, when you have a minute, if you're not too busy, I just want to process this, blah, blah, blah." Which doesn't really convey, "So I'm sitting in my car in my driveway, and I'm only crying a little, but I could sure use a comforting word..."
I'm so bad at asking for help.
But the whole incident really drove home one particular point. When I was taking my MSF course, my instructor said over and over, "You need to ride your own ride." And I heard this, of course, and nodded, but I didn't really know what it meant until yesterday. This is exactly how I got myself into trouble. I needed to be riding at my skill level, not trying to keep up with Garth's. If he got too far ahead of me, then, as the group leader and the more experienced rider, I should have let it be his responsibility not to lose me. I should have ridden my ride, not his. I should've stayed at the level where I needed to be. I should've thought more about what *I* needed.
What particularly struck me, though, was the metaphor of that. In my life as a whole, I can't say I've been riding my own ride. I react to things, I respond, I wait for others to let me know - or try to anticipate what they would want me - to do next. Not respecting my skill level, not factoring in my needs (not even identifying them most of the time), taking what I can get instead of creating a space where I want what I've got. And so what happens? Down I go.
And the idea of letting other people be responsible for their own needs is foreign enough, but to think that they have a responsibility for mine, and to mine? Totally alien. Outlandish. But sometimes? That's exactly what needs to happen.
And so as we move into the second decade of the millennium, this year I'm going to try harder to ride my own ride, in life as on my motorcycle. Which is not to say it's all about me - working in the metaphor I'm totally up to group riding - but says that I'm going to have more respect for what I need. A good friend asked me the other day what I was doing to take care of myself these days...I was hard pressed to give him a solid answer. So this year, I'm going to do better.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get back on the (iron) horse.
So I fell on the bike yesterday.
Relax, I'm fine. The side I landed on is sore today. The biggest bruise I have is from my armor. And oddly, the only thing that I actually injured is the thumb on the side opposite to which I fell. I have no explanation for that. Did ruin a perfectly good pair of jeans, though.
I went riding yesterday with Garth and Ginny. I did a little work on the bike first - added mirror extenders, fixed my tire pressure. Felt all proud of myself. I rode over to Garth's, met up with them, and then we went to a local wine tasting. I wasn't thrilled with the idea, actually. I'm already anxious enough on the bike; at no point did I expect to consume more than half a glass of wine, and I have the alcohol tolerance of a horse, so I didn't logically expect that it would impair me. Logically. Which is rarely what rules me. I ended up pouring most of my pours into Ginny's glass, because I was worried about getting on the bike with any alcohol in my system. And I doubt it was a factor in the fall, but I guess, who knows.
We left there, and Garth suggested we go for a ride. I was down, of course. But, here's the rub: Garth is a much more experienced rider than I am. And naturally he rides very differently. He also rides a sport bike, where mine is more of a cruiser, so they handle differently. And I've only put about 100 miles on my bike; I'm still not really used to it. I'm still not a very experienced rider. But I dutifully tried to keep up with Garth. And early in our ride, we came to a stoplight about five minutes from my house. It turned green; Garth took off. I tried to follow. Just into the intersection I tried to shift into second gear. I think I gave it a little too much throttle with the clutch in, and I think I let the clutch out too fast. There may have been some sand on the road (accidents are always a confluence of things). The bike flailed. I just lost control. And down I went.
I'm fine. Really. I got up. I pulled the bike up. A very nice police officer was behind me in seconds. I got back on the bike, rode into a parking lot, waited for Garth and Ginny to come back, which they did (Ginny saw me go down, apparently). I rode home, Garth gave my bike a more thorough look-over, and I went in to change out of the jeans that were now ripped over my entire right thigh. I was going to get back into the ride, but then I put on my clean pair of jeans and the button promptly fell off. My thumb hurt. I didn't have a clean pair of pants to wear. I took it as an omen and sent them on their way. I put on some sweats, got in the car, and went to buy new jeans and a new helmet. I was very cool until I got into the car. I texted a friend to talk me down, but he never responded. Which could be because I was like, "Uh, hey, when you have a minute, if you're not too busy, I just want to process this, blah, blah, blah." Which doesn't really convey, "So I'm sitting in my car in my driveway, and I'm only crying a little, but I could sure use a comforting word..."
I'm so bad at asking for help.
But the whole incident really drove home one particular point. When I was taking my MSF course, my instructor said over and over, "You need to ride your own ride." And I heard this, of course, and nodded, but I didn't really know what it meant until yesterday. This is exactly how I got myself into trouble. I needed to be riding at my skill level, not trying to keep up with Garth's. If he got too far ahead of me, then, as the group leader and the more experienced rider, I should have let it be his responsibility not to lose me. I should have ridden my ride, not his. I should've stayed at the level where I needed to be. I should've thought more about what *I* needed.
What particularly struck me, though, was the metaphor of that. In my life as a whole, I can't say I've been riding my own ride. I react to things, I respond, I wait for others to let me know - or try to anticipate what they would want me - to do next. Not respecting my skill level, not factoring in my needs (not even identifying them most of the time), taking what I can get instead of creating a space where I want what I've got. And so what happens? Down I go.
And the idea of letting other people be responsible for their own needs is foreign enough, but to think that they have a responsibility for mine, and to mine? Totally alien. Outlandish. But sometimes? That's exactly what needs to happen.
And so as we move into the second decade of the millennium, this year I'm going to try harder to ride my own ride, in life as on my motorcycle. Which is not to say it's all about me - working in the metaphor I'm totally up to group riding - but says that I'm going to have more respect for what I need. A good friend asked me the other day what I was doing to take care of myself these days...I was hard pressed to give him a solid answer. So this year, I'm going to do better.
Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go get back on the (iron) horse.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Saturday
What a great day. I needed one of those.
I've been bound and determined to ride the bike all the way to the coffee shop for about two weeks now. Last week, of course, it was too cold, but this morning, I decided, I could handle it. It was only about five degrees warmer, but I finally picked up my spiffy new armored, textile, winter-weight jacket the other day, and knew this time to wear a scarf, and put a second pair of gloves on under my motorcycle gloves. No problem, right?
Eh, it was still chilly. But I did it!
I rode the whole mile and a half on real roads with cars and things to the coffee shop. I parked the bike. I walked in...and looked at my watch. And realized I was there a good half hour before anyone else usually got there.
Oops.
But I got my (decaf) mocha, and hung out, and eventually the crew trickled in. All were pleased with my accomplishment. Larry - who hadn't yet met the bike - and Bill came out, sat on it, kicked the tires, looked at stuff. We hung out for a while, and then I rode it back home and swapped it out for the Jeep, so we could head over to the third annual Charity Breakfast With Santa that the Housestaff Council was hosting. I've worked it (and helped run it) the last two years, but this year, I finally said no. Still, I wanted to support the cause, and so the whole lot of us - me, Jen, Bill, Garth, Larry, and Ginny - went over, bearing canned goods and our nominal donations.
Residents were $5 at the door; others are $10. Now, in previous years, when *I* was working the door, if a resident came with a group of family members, friends, or whatever, I'd charge them all the $5 rate, especially if they came in with a sizable food or toy donation to the charities in question, and also if they were a particular friend to the Housestaff Council (like, say, last year's vice president). This time, however, I was not working the door. So I was told I could bring my spouse in for $5, but that was it. I turned to the group and said, "Who wants to be my husband?" So Larry was my temporary spouse. Which is lucky, because he ended up having to pay for me since I didn't have any cash.
We had a lovely time. The boys ate quite a lot of bacon. We saw some friends from work. I had really good eggs. None of us got our picture taken with Santa, however.
I came back home and got back on the bike. Drove it around the neighborhood a little bit, and then expanded my circle. I went on bigger roads this time. With more cars and things. And faster!
It's so funny. I get nervous about things like stopping and starting. Like, I worry when I know I'm going to have to stop and turn up ahead. But when I actually go to do them, it turns out fine. I make my turns. I slow down and stop and start back up again. I get my feet out of the way and back on the pegs. And while I don't have that muscle memory quite down yet, I'm getting the hang of things, enough that I can start worrying about things like sight lines and traffic and what part of the lane in which to travel. And there's this curious, whole-body intuitiveness to riding that's so different from being in a car. On the bike? It's a little more like...just being. You move, and the bike moves with you. You want to turn? Lean over. You want to swerve around a little pothole in the road? You just sort of wiggle your body the right way. All four of your limbs have a job, and they work together. You feel the road, you feel the wind. Today, when I got over 50 mph, I realized what it really meant that my coat and my body would act like a sail. I mean, I understood it conceptually when I read it, sure. But today I felt it.
It was awfully chilly, though. But I also discovered that if I pull my knees in more, I can warm up my legs with the heat from my engine. Sometimes that "air cooled" thing is a real bonus.
I got home, and swapped out the bike for the Jeep again. Just in time, too, because as I was backing out of my parking space it started to rain. I ran over to the local Harley dealership, because I'd ordered a copy of the owner's manual for my bike and it had come in. So while I was there, I also picked up a neck warmer (its pink!) and a set of glove liners. The cashier and I had a nice conversation about our respective Sportsters. I have a 2007 extra low - she has the 2005 custom. She gave me some welcome props for riding in this weather. I pointed out that right now, the biggest thing I need to be doing is just staying on the bike regularly. I may not have gone for super long rides today, but it all adds up.
I made a wrong turn and took the scenic way home, which was fine with me. I hung out with the dog a bit, did some dishes, cleaned the kitchen, and then my godbrother (we have the same godparents) came down from Virginia to visit. It was interesting, actually - we figured that we haven't seen each other in person in about 15 years or so, but we're Facebook friends and he reads my blog (hi, cuz), and so it wasn't weird at all, once I got over the whole, "Wait. You're standing in my living room" phenomena. We had a really nice time. Had dinner, got coffee, hung out for a while with my parents. Caught up, talked about family, talked about new stuff, talked about old times. It was quite lovely. And a nice way to end the day.
Mike is having his annual Christmas bash tonight, and I'd planned on going, but I'm still a little wiped out, and so I think I'm just going to bed. It was so nice to just have a nice day after the week I've had.
I've been bound and determined to ride the bike all the way to the coffee shop for about two weeks now. Last week, of course, it was too cold, but this morning, I decided, I could handle it. It was only about five degrees warmer, but I finally picked up my spiffy new armored, textile, winter-weight jacket the other day, and knew this time to wear a scarf, and put a second pair of gloves on under my motorcycle gloves. No problem, right?
Eh, it was still chilly. But I did it!
I rode the whole mile and a half on real roads with cars and things to the coffee shop. I parked the bike. I walked in...and looked at my watch. And realized I was there a good half hour before anyone else usually got there.
Oops.
But I got my (decaf) mocha, and hung out, and eventually the crew trickled in. All were pleased with my accomplishment. Larry - who hadn't yet met the bike - and Bill came out, sat on it, kicked the tires, looked at stuff. We hung out for a while, and then I rode it back home and swapped it out for the Jeep, so we could head over to the third annual Charity Breakfast With Santa that the Housestaff Council was hosting. I've worked it (and helped run it) the last two years, but this year, I finally said no. Still, I wanted to support the cause, and so the whole lot of us - me, Jen, Bill, Garth, Larry, and Ginny - went over, bearing canned goods and our nominal donations.
Residents were $5 at the door; others are $10. Now, in previous years, when *I* was working the door, if a resident came with a group of family members, friends, or whatever, I'd charge them all the $5 rate, especially if they came in with a sizable food or toy donation to the charities in question, and also if they were a particular friend to the Housestaff Council (like, say, last year's vice president). This time, however, I was not working the door. So I was told I could bring my spouse in for $5, but that was it. I turned to the group and said, "Who wants to be my husband?" So Larry was my temporary spouse. Which is lucky, because he ended up having to pay for me since I didn't have any cash.
We had a lovely time. The boys ate quite a lot of bacon. We saw some friends from work. I had really good eggs. None of us got our picture taken with Santa, however.
I came back home and got back on the bike. Drove it around the neighborhood a little bit, and then expanded my circle. I went on bigger roads this time. With more cars and things. And faster!
It's so funny. I get nervous about things like stopping and starting. Like, I worry when I know I'm going to have to stop and turn up ahead. But when I actually go to do them, it turns out fine. I make my turns. I slow down and stop and start back up again. I get my feet out of the way and back on the pegs. And while I don't have that muscle memory quite down yet, I'm getting the hang of things, enough that I can start worrying about things like sight lines and traffic and what part of the lane in which to travel. And there's this curious, whole-body intuitiveness to riding that's so different from being in a car. On the bike? It's a little more like...just being. You move, and the bike moves with you. You want to turn? Lean over. You want to swerve around a little pothole in the road? You just sort of wiggle your body the right way. All four of your limbs have a job, and they work together. You feel the road, you feel the wind. Today, when I got over 50 mph, I realized what it really meant that my coat and my body would act like a sail. I mean, I understood it conceptually when I read it, sure. But today I felt it.
It was awfully chilly, though. But I also discovered that if I pull my knees in more, I can warm up my legs with the heat from my engine. Sometimes that "air cooled" thing is a real bonus.
I got home, and swapped out the bike for the Jeep again. Just in time, too, because as I was backing out of my parking space it started to rain. I ran over to the local Harley dealership, because I'd ordered a copy of the owner's manual for my bike and it had come in. So while I was there, I also picked up a neck warmer (its pink!) and a set of glove liners. The cashier and I had a nice conversation about our respective Sportsters. I have a 2007 extra low - she has the 2005 custom. She gave me some welcome props for riding in this weather. I pointed out that right now, the biggest thing I need to be doing is just staying on the bike regularly. I may not have gone for super long rides today, but it all adds up.
I made a wrong turn and took the scenic way home, which was fine with me. I hung out with the dog a bit, did some dishes, cleaned the kitchen, and then my godbrother (we have the same godparents) came down from Virginia to visit. It was interesting, actually - we figured that we haven't seen each other in person in about 15 years or so, but we're Facebook friends and he reads my blog (hi, cuz), and so it wasn't weird at all, once I got over the whole, "Wait. You're standing in my living room" phenomena. We had a really nice time. Had dinner, got coffee, hung out for a while with my parents. Caught up, talked about family, talked about new stuff, talked about old times. It was quite lovely. And a nice way to end the day.
Mike is having his annual Christmas bash tonight, and I'd planned on going, but I'm still a little wiped out, and so I think I'm just going to bed. It was so nice to just have a nice day after the week I've had.
Thursday, December 02, 2010
Omen? Or not.
So my dad's in the hospital again.
He's going to be okay. It's a COPD exacerbation, it's that time of year. I expect that he'll be home tomorrow.
So we're sitting in the ER yesterday, and this trauma's coming in. And people are bustling around, and this nurse walks by, and says "all they said was that there was extensive damage to the bike and extensive damage to the helmet."
Oh, shit. I thought. A motorcycle accident. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Did I just make a huge mistake? Oh, my God....
So he rolls in. He's talking, he's moving all four extremities, it's not as bad as it originally sounded. I'm a little relieved. I listen to the controlled chaos as the team runs the trauma. I listen to him scream when they roll him over. I think, wow. I'm glad he's okay. That could've been so much worse. I still wonder if the universe is sending me a message about having bought a motorcycle this weekend...
And then, the cop shows up.
Long story short? This guy ran a red light. He didn't have a motorcycle license. He didn't have insurance. He was high, and carrying drugs.
Okay, Universe. Point taken. I solemnly swear not to do that...
He's going to be okay. It's a COPD exacerbation, it's that time of year. I expect that he'll be home tomorrow.
So we're sitting in the ER yesterday, and this trauma's coming in. And people are bustling around, and this nurse walks by, and says "all they said was that there was extensive damage to the bike and extensive damage to the helmet."
Oh, shit. I thought. A motorcycle accident. Is the universe trying to tell me something? Did I just make a huge mistake? Oh, my God....
So he rolls in. He's talking, he's moving all four extremities, it's not as bad as it originally sounded. I'm a little relieved. I listen to the controlled chaos as the team runs the trauma. I listen to him scream when they roll him over. I think, wow. I'm glad he's okay. That could've been so much worse. I still wonder if the universe is sending me a message about having bought a motorcycle this weekend...
And then, the cop shows up.
Long story short? This guy ran a red light. He didn't have a motorcycle license. He didn't have insurance. He was high, and carrying drugs.
Okay, Universe. Point taken. I solemnly swear not to do that...
Sunday, November 28, 2010
Sunday.
What a great day I had.
I went to work, which was, well, great would be pushing it. But tolerable. And I was out by 11, so I went to coffee with the few who were still lingering. It was delightful. Good company, good mocha. Mmm. I spent most of the afternoon on the bike. And then I went to a recruitment dinner with Peng and a couple of the interns, and I think we showed them pretty well what a fun bunch we are.
After coffee I came home and futzed around on the internet for a while (okay, I was looking at jackets. It's the last thing I need to feel safer on the bike. It's surprisingly difficult to find non-black). I'd been waiting on Garth to ride, but he wasn't texting me back so I figured he was probably busy. So, ultimately, I geared up and hit the road.
Literally. Okay, "hit" is an overstatement.
I dropped the bike again. No, that's not true. It tipped, and the easiest way to get it back up was to set it down and start over. Both times I was stopped and perpendicular to a hill. The second time I did it, these two women came over and helped me get it pointed back in the right direction. One of them was a biker chick herself. We had a good chuckle at how female-identified the whole thing was. And then I got back on the bike and off I went.
I rode through a bunch of nearby neighborhoods. Eventually I ventured out onto a slightly bigger street, braved the roundabout, and made it to the big parking lot down the street that Larry used to practice for his road test. I rode in circles for a while. Practiced stopping, turning, weaving. And eventually connected with Garth,who rode over and joined me. He had me running drills for a while - shifting, figure eights, turns from a stop. All very useful and increasing my comfort level. We still have to raise the suspension a bit so I'll stop dragging my pegs in the turns, and I think that'll help my comfort level even more.
I came back home through the same roundabout, and this time - at Garth's urging - did the whole loop. Dragging my left peg, sending up showers of sparks the whole time. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with the idea, is fine. It looks dramatic, but it isn't a big deal at all. Garth? Thought it looked cool. Here's what I was thinking:
"I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadohthankgod I'm going straight again. Ahh."
It'll get better. In that, I'll feel better soon. I wasn't even close to dying.
The progress I've made in the past couple of days has been good, I think. And I'm definitely doing better than I was at the end of class. Which was WAY better than I was doing at the start of class!
Here's a relevant statistic for you: According to the 2006 NTHSA study by Hurt, et al, which studied over 4,000 motorcycle crashes for causative factors and modifiable variables, only 8% of riders involved in crashes had formal training, like the MSF course I took. Stated another way, 92% were self-taught or learned from family or friends.
Makes you think.
Honing one's skills with experienced friends who've had formal instruction, however, is generally encouraged. My instructors in the class said over and over that they highly recommended finding a mentor.
How amazingly lucky am I? I have five.
I went to work, which was, well, great would be pushing it. But tolerable. And I was out by 11, so I went to coffee with the few who were still lingering. It was delightful. Good company, good mocha. Mmm. I spent most of the afternoon on the bike. And then I went to a recruitment dinner with Peng and a couple of the interns, and I think we showed them pretty well what a fun bunch we are.
After coffee I came home and futzed around on the internet for a while (okay, I was looking at jackets. It's the last thing I need to feel safer on the bike. It's surprisingly difficult to find non-black). I'd been waiting on Garth to ride, but he wasn't texting me back so I figured he was probably busy. So, ultimately, I geared up and hit the road.
Literally. Okay, "hit" is an overstatement.
I dropped the bike again. No, that's not true. It tipped, and the easiest way to get it back up was to set it down and start over. Both times I was stopped and perpendicular to a hill. The second time I did it, these two women came over and helped me get it pointed back in the right direction. One of them was a biker chick herself. We had a good chuckle at how female-identified the whole thing was. And then I got back on the bike and off I went.
I rode through a bunch of nearby neighborhoods. Eventually I ventured out onto a slightly bigger street, braved the roundabout, and made it to the big parking lot down the street that Larry used to practice for his road test. I rode in circles for a while. Practiced stopping, turning, weaving. And eventually connected with Garth,who rode over and joined me. He had me running drills for a while - shifting, figure eights, turns from a stop. All very useful and increasing my comfort level. We still have to raise the suspension a bit so I'll stop dragging my pegs in the turns, and I think that'll help my comfort level even more.
I came back home through the same roundabout, and this time - at Garth's urging - did the whole loop. Dragging my left peg, sending up showers of sparks the whole time. Which, for those of you unfamiliar with the idea, is fine. It looks dramatic, but it isn't a big deal at all. Garth? Thought it looked cool. Here's what I was thinking:
"I'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mgonnadieI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadI'mnotdeadohthankgod I'm going straight again. Ahh."
It'll get better. In that, I'll feel better soon. I wasn't even close to dying.
The progress I've made in the past couple of days has been good, I think. And I'm definitely doing better than I was at the end of class. Which was WAY better than I was doing at the start of class!
Here's a relevant statistic for you: According to the 2006 NTHSA study by Hurt, et al, which studied over 4,000 motorcycle crashes for causative factors and modifiable variables, only 8% of riders involved in crashes had formal training, like the MSF course I took. Stated another way, 92% were self-taught or learned from family or friends.
Makes you think.
Honing one's skills with experienced friends who've had formal instruction, however, is generally encouraged. My instructors in the class said over and over that they highly recommended finding a mentor.
How amazingly lucky am I? I have five.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
A tale of two Hogs...
So I finally decided that the Harley Sportster was my bike.
You know how, sometimes, you just know these things? Two weeks ago, I dragged Larry to the Harley dealership in Durham. I had planned to stop in and see a friend who was working there, maybe get these boots I had seen in Long Island. And, you know, while we were there, we sat on a couple of bikes. I threw my leg over this Sportster Extra Low, and was immediately like, yep, this is my bike. It's short enough, it's got a low center of gravity, it's heavy enough that it can accommodate even my weight without shifting said center of gravity up too high to be stable. It was comfortable. The pegs were in the right place. And there was something ineffable...
But no, no. That was way out of my price range! I couldn't afford it. Maybe for my second bike. Moving on.
And then last weekend we went to the other Harley dealership in town to look at their used bikes. Frankly, we went to look at a Yamaha (they have a bunch of pre-owned bikes that they've taken in trade). And lo and behold, they had a used Sportster. Which, that one felt a little high, but the salesman assured me the seat could be lowered a little more. And it had clearly been dropped, but Larry and Garth assured me it was cosmetic damage. And it was only a little out of my price range. But still...
So THEN. Wednesday. I have minimal work commitments, so on my way out to State Hospital, I drift by the first Harley dealership. And, you know, ask what they've got. And we're looking at this one that was priced roughly the same as the first one I'd sat on and he says, "You know, I've got a 1990 Sportster in the warehouse. Why don't you come on back?" So he started it up and let me out on the range and I rode gleefully in circles for five or ten minutes. And the price? Was right. But it was a 20 year old bike...
Hmm.
What do I do?, I asked my boys. Larry said, not an obvious mistake. Garth said, you can do better.
Truthfully? I think they were both right.
And ultimately, Garth prevailed, but only because he did better. He found this bike online, which was a consignment sale through a local independent dealership. It was a 2007 Sportster 883 Low. The price was crazy. And it had - are you ready for this? - 57 miles on it. 57! It's basically a new bike. With engine guards! And street pegs! And standard controls! And stock pipes! And...well, it's black, which I'm not thrilled about, but I'll just have to get a fuchsia jacket or something.
And today? It's all mine.
Garth and I went to check it out. They didn't let us test ride it, which I wasn't thrilled about, but, again, basically a new bike. We fiddled, we looked, we sat, we proverbially kicked the tires. I looked piteously at Garth. He said, you aren't going to find a better deal. I looked piteously at the bike. And I took a deep breath, and said, "I'll take it." And I did.
Isn't she pretty? I've decided it's a she, because apparently the Sportster is a "chick bike." Which, that's fine. I'm a biker chick.
Garth drove it home for me, because I've still never gone above 20 mph. We stopped by Jen and Bill's, and showed it off to them. And then, Garth being the good, good man that he is, we went over to the local high school parking lot, where I rode in circles for a solid hour while Garth froze his ass off watching me (it was not warm today). It was blissful. I didn't hit anything. I didn't drop the bike once. I just rode. And I love the bike. It handles well, the clutch is good, it's not too loud.
It's my bike.
And this whole process has been great for recognizing (again) what an awesome bunch of people I've landed with. Garth, Larry, Bill, Jen - all have been infinitely patient, tolerated my neurosis, soothed my anxieties, and have been amazingly supportive. As they are, to me, in most things. Thanks guys.
Let's ride!!
You know how, sometimes, you just know these things? Two weeks ago, I dragged Larry to the Harley dealership in Durham. I had planned to stop in and see a friend who was working there, maybe get these boots I had seen in Long Island. And, you know, while we were there, we sat on a couple of bikes. I threw my leg over this Sportster Extra Low, and was immediately like, yep, this is my bike. It's short enough, it's got a low center of gravity, it's heavy enough that it can accommodate even my weight without shifting said center of gravity up too high to be stable. It was comfortable. The pegs were in the right place. And there was something ineffable...
But no, no. That was way out of my price range! I couldn't afford it. Maybe for my second bike. Moving on.
And then last weekend we went to the other Harley dealership in town to look at their used bikes. Frankly, we went to look at a Yamaha (they have a bunch of pre-owned bikes that they've taken in trade). And lo and behold, they had a used Sportster. Which, that one felt a little high, but the salesman assured me the seat could be lowered a little more. And it had clearly been dropped, but Larry and Garth assured me it was cosmetic damage. And it was only a little out of my price range. But still...
So THEN. Wednesday. I have minimal work commitments, so on my way out to State Hospital, I drift by the first Harley dealership. And, you know, ask what they've got. And we're looking at this one that was priced roughly the same as the first one I'd sat on and he says, "You know, I've got a 1990 Sportster in the warehouse. Why don't you come on back?" So he started it up and let me out on the range and I rode gleefully in circles for five or ten minutes. And the price? Was right. But it was a 20 year old bike...
Hmm.
What do I do?, I asked my boys. Larry said, not an obvious mistake. Garth said, you can do better.
Truthfully? I think they were both right.
And ultimately, Garth prevailed, but only because he did better. He found this bike online, which was a consignment sale through a local independent dealership. It was a 2007 Sportster 883 Low. The price was crazy. And it had - are you ready for this? - 57 miles on it. 57! It's basically a new bike. With engine guards! And street pegs! And standard controls! And stock pipes! And...well, it's black, which I'm not thrilled about, but I'll just have to get a fuchsia jacket or something.
And today? It's all mine.
Garth and I went to check it out. They didn't let us test ride it, which I wasn't thrilled about, but, again, basically a new bike. We fiddled, we looked, we sat, we proverbially kicked the tires. I looked piteously at Garth. He said, you aren't going to find a better deal. I looked piteously at the bike. And I took a deep breath, and said, "I'll take it." And I did.
Isn't she pretty? I've decided it's a she, because apparently the Sportster is a "chick bike." Which, that's fine. I'm a biker chick.
Garth drove it home for me, because I've still never gone above 20 mph. We stopped by Jen and Bill's, and showed it off to them. And then, Garth being the good, good man that he is, we went over to the local high school parking lot, where I rode in circles for a solid hour while Garth froze his ass off watching me (it was not warm today). It was blissful. I didn't hit anything. I didn't drop the bike once. I just rode. And I love the bike. It handles well, the clutch is good, it's not too loud.
It's my bike.
And this whole process has been great for recognizing (again) what an awesome bunch of people I've landed with. Garth, Larry, Bill, Jen - all have been infinitely patient, tolerated my neurosis, soothed my anxieties, and have been amazingly supportive. As they are, to me, in most things. Thanks guys.
Let's ride!!
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Thanks
Wait, has it really been since Wednesday that I've posted anything? Is that sentence even English?
Last week was, as you can probably guess, difficult. For a lot of different reasons. But fortunately, the weekend was awesome.
You know my circle of friends that's centered around the coffee shop refers to itself as the Village. Yesterday was the annual Village Thanksgiving celebration. It's a standing tradition, that's been going on for a number of years now from what I gather, but this was obviously my first. And it was wonderful.
It's a potluck, so I spent the afternoon baking cornbread. LOTs of cornbread. Regular, pumpkin, and pumpkin pecan. Because when I bring a side dish, I bring the heck out of it, apparently. There were some mishaps, but I ended up with a large amount of a passable product (actually, the pumpkin was reeeeally good). I picked up Larry (since he lives a stone's throw from me) and his casserole, and off we went to the north end of town. There were probably 25 or 30 of us, and enough food for a small nation. Turkey, dressing, beans of many kinds, scratch-made cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, some sort of broccoli soup, brussel sprouts, on and on and on. And the desserts!! One friend in particular made the most a-maz-ing cheesecake I think I've ever had. Garth and family came with a fabulous apple tart. Misty made rockin' apple pie. Oh, my gosh, it was such a spread. And the evening concluded with ten or so of us sitting around the fire pit toasting marshmallows and laughing a lot. At one point we ran out of storebought firewood, so our hostess sent her husband into the woods behind the house for more. We set a good dozen marshmallows on fire and I stole sips of Larry's whiskey and two friends melted parts of their shoes on the fire pit. And my sides were a little sore by the end of the evening from laughing so hard.
We debriefed on the way home and discussed how I was a little tense going into the evening. I'm new to the collective, some of whom have known each other for quite some time, and I always worry a little about how I'll be received. But invariably I end up feeling welcome and being reminded how grateful I am to belong to the group.
And then, today, after coffee and breakfast with our inner circle, Larry and Garth and I went bike shopping again. Garth was a good addition to the entourage and is by far the most mechanically minded and knowledgeable of any of us. Larry has been incredibly tolerant of me dragging him all over North Carolina while I try to make up my mind about what sort of bike I want. Both of them have been very patient and reassuring and, being very proficient and experienced riders, a wealth of wisdom. We made some real progress on the motorcycle front, today, I think, even if I didn't actually come home with a bike. But I was driving back from Southeastern Nowhere, NC this afternoon, with Garth in my back seat fiddling on his iPhone and Larry next to me humming some Aerosmith song that had been playing at the Harley dealership, and I couldn't help but smile as we headed into the lengthening shadows of an afternoon well spent.
I'm so grateful to be continually collecting good people in my life.
Last week was, as you can probably guess, difficult. For a lot of different reasons. But fortunately, the weekend was awesome.
You know my circle of friends that's centered around the coffee shop refers to itself as the Village. Yesterday was the annual Village Thanksgiving celebration. It's a standing tradition, that's been going on for a number of years now from what I gather, but this was obviously my first. And it was wonderful.
It's a potluck, so I spent the afternoon baking cornbread. LOTs of cornbread. Regular, pumpkin, and pumpkin pecan. Because when I bring a side dish, I bring the heck out of it, apparently. There were some mishaps, but I ended up with a large amount of a passable product (actually, the pumpkin was reeeeally good). I picked up Larry (since he lives a stone's throw from me) and his casserole, and off we went to the north end of town. There were probably 25 or 30 of us, and enough food for a small nation. Turkey, dressing, beans of many kinds, scratch-made cranberry sauce and mashed potatoes, some sort of broccoli soup, brussel sprouts, on and on and on. And the desserts!! One friend in particular made the most a-maz-ing cheesecake I think I've ever had. Garth and family came with a fabulous apple tart. Misty made rockin' apple pie. Oh, my gosh, it was such a spread. And the evening concluded with ten or so of us sitting around the fire pit toasting marshmallows and laughing a lot. At one point we ran out of storebought firewood, so our hostess sent her husband into the woods behind the house for more. We set a good dozen marshmallows on fire and I stole sips of Larry's whiskey and two friends melted parts of their shoes on the fire pit. And my sides were a little sore by the end of the evening from laughing so hard.
We debriefed on the way home and discussed how I was a little tense going into the evening. I'm new to the collective, some of whom have known each other for quite some time, and I always worry a little about how I'll be received. But invariably I end up feeling welcome and being reminded how grateful I am to belong to the group.
And then, today, after coffee and breakfast with our inner circle, Larry and Garth and I went bike shopping again. Garth was a good addition to the entourage and is by far the most mechanically minded and knowledgeable of any of us. Larry has been incredibly tolerant of me dragging him all over North Carolina while I try to make up my mind about what sort of bike I want. Both of them have been very patient and reassuring and, being very proficient and experienced riders, a wealth of wisdom. We made some real progress on the motorcycle front, today, I think, even if I didn't actually come home with a bike. But I was driving back from Southeastern Nowhere, NC this afternoon, with Garth in my back seat fiddling on his iPhone and Larry next to me humming some Aerosmith song that had been playing at the Harley dealership, and I couldn't help but smile as we headed into the lengthening shadows of an afternoon well spent.
I'm so grateful to be continually collecting good people in my life.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Someday this is going to be really funny.
So after I hung out at coffee for a while, I had lunch with a friend from work. Which was tasty, and it was nice to have time to catch up. And then I started Day 2 of BikeQuest 2010. Larry and I reconvened (after I stopped by my parents', because they were worried. Maggie was acting like she wasn't feeling very well and her nose wasn't cold enough) and were headed to Western Nowhere, NC, to look at a Honda Nighthawk, when he was like, um, have you ridden Jen's yet? Maybe we should do that before we drive all the way to WN.
I hate it when he's all logical.
So I called Bill, because Jen was up on a ladder. I asked him, he asked her, and of course, Jen was like "Sure!! Come on over!" Because she's just that awesome. Bill had the bike all pulled out for me, but it was facing the wrong direction. So, okay, I hop on, mess around with the clutch a little to find the "friction zone" (the spot where the clutch engages and it starts moving the bike forward when in first gear) and I'm turning the bike around....and it's turning...and it's turning...and it's leaning...anditsleaninnnnnng......and boom. I'm down. Under the bike.
As usual.
Okay, fine. We got it back up. They bravely put me back on it. I get the thing moving, and it's nice! I get to the cul-de-sac, I do a little turn. There's some shifting, there's some breaking, there's some leaning, no problem. Until, of course, I try to stop. And I put my foot down...and the ground isn't there. It's about two inches lower than I need it to be. And then it's leaning...and I'm trying to lean the other way but it's still leaning....aaaaaaaand I'm under the bike again.
Fuckin' a.
Apparently my head hit the curb when I went down that time - not hard enough that I even noticed it inside the helmet, but hard enough to make a noise that scared Jenny. So I crawled out from under the bike again. The boys got it back up. I did a lot of swearing. And we concluded the Nighthawk is too tall for me.
Well...okay. They concluded it was too tall for me. I concluded I was the worst rider ever. Although apparently I looked fine when the thing was actually moving, so on the whole, I consider it a win. But mind you, it took a lot of reassurance from Jen, Bill, and Larry that I actually did look fine while riding and my legs are just too damn short.
We went back to Larry's and I sat on his bike for a while. We concluded his was too small for me. I felt a little like Goldilocks. So which one is "just right"?
That remains to be seen. Since the bike I really wanted got sold, one bike we were looking at was just like Jen's and one was just like Larry's, and the fourth one was in South Far Away, NC, we scrapped the mission. I invited myself back over to Jen and Bill's, hung out there for a little while until I went and hung out with my folks for dinner. And it makes sense to wait a minute - I'm taking a mental health day tomorrow, and one of the things I'm doing is going to the DMV to get the M added to my license. So, after that, I can actually test drive the things myself (don't worry. I'll take one of the experienced people with me to do an actual test drive). Meanwhile, I keep watching Craigslist. And I continue to hope the Harley Davidson Fairy will visit in the night.
I hate it when he's all logical.
So I called Bill, because Jen was up on a ladder. I asked him, he asked her, and of course, Jen was like "Sure!! Come on over!" Because she's just that awesome. Bill had the bike all pulled out for me, but it was facing the wrong direction. So, okay, I hop on, mess around with the clutch a little to find the "friction zone" (the spot where the clutch engages and it starts moving the bike forward when in first gear) and I'm turning the bike around....and it's turning...and it's turning...and it's leaning...anditsleaninnnnnng......and boom. I'm down. Under the bike.
As usual.
Okay, fine. We got it back up. They bravely put me back on it. I get the thing moving, and it's nice! I get to the cul-de-sac, I do a little turn. There's some shifting, there's some breaking, there's some leaning, no problem. Until, of course, I try to stop. And I put my foot down...and the ground isn't there. It's about two inches lower than I need it to be. And then it's leaning...and I'm trying to lean the other way but it's still leaning....aaaaaaaand I'm under the bike again.
Fuckin' a.
Apparently my head hit the curb when I went down that time - not hard enough that I even noticed it inside the helmet, but hard enough to make a noise that scared Jenny. So I crawled out from under the bike again. The boys got it back up. I did a lot of swearing. And we concluded the Nighthawk is too tall for me.
Well...okay. They concluded it was too tall for me. I concluded I was the worst rider ever. Although apparently I looked fine when the thing was actually moving, so on the whole, I consider it a win. But mind you, it took a lot of reassurance from Jen, Bill, and Larry that I actually did look fine while riding and my legs are just too damn short.
We went back to Larry's and I sat on his bike for a while. We concluded his was too small for me. I felt a little like Goldilocks. So which one is "just right"?
That remains to be seen. Since the bike I really wanted got sold, one bike we were looking at was just like Jen's and one was just like Larry's, and the fourth one was in South Far Away, NC, we scrapped the mission. I invited myself back over to Jen and Bill's, hung out there for a little while until I went and hung out with my folks for dinner. And it makes sense to wait a minute - I'm taking a mental health day tomorrow, and one of the things I'm doing is going to the DMV to get the M added to my license. So, after that, I can actually test drive the things myself (don't worry. I'll take one of the experienced people with me to do an actual test drive). Meanwhile, I keep watching Craigslist. And I continue to hope the Harley Davidson Fairy will visit in the night.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Biker babe
Nope, don't have one yet. But looking for a bike was the predominant activity of my day.
Had coffee this am. Made a side trip to this little local place which advertises the world's best BLTs. Had a BLT for breakfast. It was tasty, but I'm not sure I'd be quite so generous with the title (I mean, I haven't tried ALL the BLTs in the world, after all). Got into a complicated decision-making process about who was going with me. And ultimately, Larry - who's one of the most experienced riders in our group - and I wandered off in search of Kate's Motorcycle.
We started at the shop where I've gotten my gear thusfar. I sat on half a dozen bikes or so, messed with the pegs (which is the fancy biker word for pedals), clutched the clutch, played with the buttons. Found a few I liked, compared the ones I had on my radar from Craigslist. Then we went to the local Harley dealer, where I sat on my favorite bike yet (which was way too expensive). And then we hit another bike shop, where I sat on nothing but got a lot of helpful advice. Which was...well, helpful.
We finally ended up back at Larry's apartment, with me sitting on his bike. Which, actually, I liked. But then we stood around yapping for a while. So long that the skittish little neighborhood stray hopped right up on the bike.
This would be the same neighborhood stray that Larry's been trying to convince me to take as a pet. I was very resistant to this idea, even thought Maggie would LOVE LOVE LOVE a cat (Maggie's a cat person). I'm allergic. And I don't need another animal to worry about, nor another expensive thing in my life (the bike will be enough). And I don't really like most cats. I'm a dog person. Right? Right.
Except my resolve is wavering since I met the cat.
(I do not need a cat. I do not need a cat. I do not need a cat.)
He's awful cute, though, isn't he?
Had coffee this am. Made a side trip to this little local place which advertises the world's best BLTs. Had a BLT for breakfast. It was tasty, but I'm not sure I'd be quite so generous with the title (I mean, I haven't tried ALL the BLTs in the world, after all). Got into a complicated decision-making process about who was going with me. And ultimately, Larry - who's one of the most experienced riders in our group - and I wandered off in search of Kate's Motorcycle.
We started at the shop where I've gotten my gear thusfar. I sat on half a dozen bikes or so, messed with the pegs (which is the fancy biker word for pedals), clutched the clutch, played with the buttons. Found a few I liked, compared the ones I had on my radar from Craigslist. Then we went to the local Harley dealer, where I sat on my favorite bike yet (which was way too expensive). And then we hit another bike shop, where I sat on nothing but got a lot of helpful advice. Which was...well, helpful.
We finally ended up back at Larry's apartment, with me sitting on his bike. Which, actually, I liked. But then we stood around yapping for a while. So long that the skittish little neighborhood stray hopped right up on the bike.
This would be the same neighborhood stray that Larry's been trying to convince me to take as a pet. I was very resistant to this idea, even thought Maggie would LOVE LOVE LOVE a cat (Maggie's a cat person). I'm allergic. And I don't need another animal to worry about, nor another expensive thing in my life (the bike will be enough). And I don't really like most cats. I'm a dog person. Right? Right.
Except my resolve is wavering since I met the cat.
(I do not need a cat. I do not need a cat. I do not need a cat.)
He's awful cute, though, isn't he?
Monday, November 08, 2010
Best foot forward
Look! It's my right tootsie!
It was a long day. I actually had a whole other blog post written, but then decided that I didn't like it. So I'm posting an x-ray of my foot instead.
Which, incidentally, still hurts. ::whimper::
Time for some ibuprofen and snuggling in bed with my puppy....
It was a long day. I actually had a whole other blog post written, but then decided that I didn't like it. So I'm posting an x-ray of my foot instead.
Which, incidentally, still hurts. ::whimper::
Time for some ibuprofen and snuggling in bed with my puppy....
Sunday, November 07, 2010
Success
So, I've spent the last two days riding in circles (and weaves, and s-curves, and over 2x4s) around a parking lot. On a very badly abused motorcycle. I dropped the 300-lb Kawasaki Eliminator on my foot. Twice, in fact. I stalled the bike out at least three hundred MILLION times, and I don't even know how. And yet, I'm currently in possession of a card that will allow me to walk into the NC DMV, take a ridiculous written test, pay $10, and then have a Class M endorsement on my license.
And then I can legally ride a motorcycle on the streets of North Carolina.
Hey, I didn't say I'd ride it well.
Nah, I did okay. I mean, I passed, after all. And my instructor commented that I came a long way (I can only imagine what I looked like yesterday!). Of course, he told me this during the talk when he said specifically to me, "You need to get a bike. You need to start riding. You need the practice."
I didn't love it the way I'd expected to. I think that I will, actually, but he's not wrong that I need practice. I went in thinking, "How hard can this be?" and left thinking "Holy shit, that's hard work!" I expected to be a natural. Why, I don't know, because it's not like I'm a natural at walking or anything requiring balance. But I expected handling the bike to be a lot easier. I'm wicked sore today - in my back, my thighs...oh, yeah, and my foot.
Right? Because my feet weren't messed up enough.
So I was trying to come to a stop yesterday and I think I had the handlebars turned when I hit the front brake. And I dropped the bike. It just got away from me. Unfortunately, I didn't quite get away from it. The engine (read: the heavy part) fell on my foot, and of course the first thing I thought was Shit. I just broke my foot, didn't I? But I pulled it out and put some weight on it and it hurt, but it was stable.
So what did I do with my potentially broken foot? I got back up on the bike.
Okay, and I cried a little bit.
But I got back in line and I stuck it out for the next five hours. I went out to dinner with Jen and Bill for moral support ("I'm the worst rider ever!" "Uh, no, let me tell you some stories..."). I came home and took some ibuprofen. And I woke up at 4:30 am (thanks, Daylight Savings Time) with a very sore foot.
So I made the time calculations around 5, and figured I could probably make it through the ER in time to get to class if the dumb thing wasn't fractured. So I packed up my gear and went to have the foot looked at. It went a little something like this:
Front desk nurse: How can I help you?
Me: I think I might have broken my foot.
FDN: How?
Me: I dropped a motorcycle on it.
FDN: What part?
Me: Well, the pain's in the lateral -
FDN: No, I mean, what part of the motorcycle?
So it turns out both he and the resident who treated me rode. I had an x-ray and a very nice chat with the doc about what sort of protective gear I should get. Which started with "You need to get you some damn boots."
He warned me to be careful out there and offered me some painkillers I didn't take. And then I got in my car and headed towards the community college, all the while arguing in my head about whether or not I should go to class. But my foot hurt! But it wasn't broken. Was I using that as an excuse to not go back? I could've quit. Easily. I almost did. I mean, I'd already decided to take the class again in the spring. So why bother?
But my stubbornness prevailed. I got coffee and more motrin and I sucked it up. Although I dropped the bike again, doing pretty much the same thing. I thought about leaving then. I thought about leaving several times after that. After all, I had such a great excuse...
But I stayed.
And I'm glad I did.
By the end of the day, it was a lot more enjoyable. I felt a lot more comfortable, even on my crappy bike. The anxiety abated a bit. Things started making more sense. Leaning into the curve was actually a lot of fun.
And so, we'll see. I'm going to look at bikes soon. I'm going to think about what I want and what I can handle skillfully, emotionally and fiscally. And either way I've got the M on my license. Go me!
And then I can legally ride a motorcycle on the streets of North Carolina.
Hey, I didn't say I'd ride it well.
Nah, I did okay. I mean, I passed, after all. And my instructor commented that I came a long way (I can only imagine what I looked like yesterday!). Of course, he told me this during the talk when he said specifically to me, "You need to get a bike. You need to start riding. You need the practice."
I didn't love it the way I'd expected to. I think that I will, actually, but he's not wrong that I need practice. I went in thinking, "How hard can this be?" and left thinking "Holy shit, that's hard work!" I expected to be a natural. Why, I don't know, because it's not like I'm a natural at walking or anything requiring balance. But I expected handling the bike to be a lot easier. I'm wicked sore today - in my back, my thighs...oh, yeah, and my foot.
Right? Because my feet weren't messed up enough.
So I was trying to come to a stop yesterday and I think I had the handlebars turned when I hit the front brake. And I dropped the bike. It just got away from me. Unfortunately, I didn't quite get away from it. The engine (read: the heavy part) fell on my foot, and of course the first thing I thought was Shit. I just broke my foot, didn't I? But I pulled it out and put some weight on it and it hurt, but it was stable.
So what did I do with my potentially broken foot? I got back up on the bike.
Okay, and I cried a little bit.
But I got back in line and I stuck it out for the next five hours. I went out to dinner with Jen and Bill for moral support ("I'm the worst rider ever!" "Uh, no, let me tell you some stories..."). I came home and took some ibuprofen. And I woke up at 4:30 am (thanks, Daylight Savings Time) with a very sore foot.
So I made the time calculations around 5, and figured I could probably make it through the ER in time to get to class if the dumb thing wasn't fractured. So I packed up my gear and went to have the foot looked at. It went a little something like this:
Front desk nurse: How can I help you?
Me: I think I might have broken my foot.
FDN: How?
Me: I dropped a motorcycle on it.
FDN: What part?
Me: Well, the pain's in the lateral -
FDN: No, I mean, what part of the motorcycle?
So it turns out both he and the resident who treated me rode. I had an x-ray and a very nice chat with the doc about what sort of protective gear I should get. Which started with "You need to get you some damn boots."
He warned me to be careful out there and offered me some painkillers I didn't take. And then I got in my car and headed towards the community college, all the while arguing in my head about whether or not I should go to class. But my foot hurt! But it wasn't broken. Was I using that as an excuse to not go back? I could've quit. Easily. I almost did. I mean, I'd already decided to take the class again in the spring. So why bother?
But my stubbornness prevailed. I got coffee and more motrin and I sucked it up. Although I dropped the bike again, doing pretty much the same thing. I thought about leaving then. I thought about leaving several times after that. After all, I had such a great excuse...
But I stayed.
And I'm glad I did.
By the end of the day, it was a lot more enjoyable. I felt a lot more comfortable, even on my crappy bike. The anxiety abated a bit. Things started making more sense. Leaning into the curve was actually a lot of fun.
And so, we'll see. I'm going to look at bikes soon. I'm going to think about what I want and what I can handle skillfully, emotionally and fiscally. And either way I've got the M on my license. Go me!
Friday, November 05, 2010
Start your engines....
Today blew.
But tonight was my very first MSF motorcycle riding and safety class. Four hours tonight, and then ten hours each tomorrow and Sunday. It's a lot to pack in to a weekend! Tonight was all classroom, and made me anxious about the whole process. I'm a little bit worried my whole left-right dyspraxia issue (read: I sometimes can't tell my right from my left). I'm a little bit worried I won't be coordinated enough to do the whole both-hands-both-feet thing. I'm a little bit worried about falling down. I'm a little bit worried about going too fast.
But I'm also a lot excited. Yay! Motorcycles tomorrow!!!!
But tonight was my very first MSF motorcycle riding and safety class. Four hours tonight, and then ten hours each tomorrow and Sunday. It's a lot to pack in to a weekend! Tonight was all classroom, and made me anxious about the whole process. I'm a little bit worried my whole left-right dyspraxia issue (read: I sometimes can't tell my right from my left). I'm a little bit worried I won't be coordinated enough to do the whole both-hands-both-feet thing. I'm a little bit worried about falling down. I'm a little bit worried about going too fast.
But I'm also a lot excited. Yay! Motorcycles tomorrow!!!!
Saturday, October 23, 2010
Procrastination
I didn't get nearly enough done today.
Ah well.
Tomorrow I leave for NYC for a child psychiatry conference (don't rob my house. People have keys, and I'm underpaid, so there's nothing there worth taking, anyway). I'm pretty excited. The conference should be really good. AND I've never been to New York City before, except for a two hour layover at JFK. AND I'm staying with my good friend Buie, whom I haven't seen in like a million billion years. AND I get to see my friend Barb, whom I've never even met in person! AND Maggie gets to come to NY with me. AND...um...did I mention I'm really excited?
I'm also not really packed yet...
I'm a little anxious, and it's been getting in the way, frankly. I've never been to NYC before. I haven't been to a child psych conference before. I don't know what to do with all those child psychiatrists! There's going to be like a bazillion people I don't know. Not to mention, the last time I went to a national conference was right before my life fell apart in NH. Which....okay....this is a whole different time. And a whole different life. And, okay, I'm pretty good at dealing with people I don't know.
I'm just wishing I was feeling a little better about myself these days.
One thing I did manage to accomplish today (after spending like three hours at the coffee shop) was procuring motorcycle gloves. My riding and safety course is the weekend after I get back, so today Larry and I went shopping for the last item required for the course (he needed winter riding gloves, too). We spent way too much time trying on the same four pairs of gloves. I decided faster than he did, though, and wandered over to look at armored jackets (which were surprisingly more reasonably priced than I thought). I promptly got stuck in one when the zipper malfunctioned. He couldn't get me out of it. I finally got it off over my head. It was really comical. And I was hesitant to try on any others, but I think I found one I like. I took a picture of the tag and tucked that away for later. But in the midst of all this, I'm being all neurotic and anxious, and I keep pointing out my anxiety and neurosis. And Larry finally tells me, "You know you're no different from anyone else, right?"
It was, perhaps, a little bit of the pot calling the kettle neurotic. But it was a nice reminder, too, how we all have a little bit of crazy.
One of these days I'll really be able to own mine. I think that's the goal, you know? Not to eliminate it, of course - it's what makes us who we are - but to work with it. To reduce distress. It's what I do professionally, and it's what I'm trying to do personally.
It's kinda tough....
Ah well.
Tomorrow I leave for NYC for a child psychiatry conference (don't rob my house. People have keys, and I'm underpaid, so there's nothing there worth taking, anyway). I'm pretty excited. The conference should be really good. AND I've never been to New York City before, except for a two hour layover at JFK. AND I'm staying with my good friend Buie, whom I haven't seen in like a million billion years. AND I get to see my friend Barb, whom I've never even met in person! AND Maggie gets to come to NY with me. AND...um...did I mention I'm really excited?
I'm also not really packed yet...
I'm a little anxious, and it's been getting in the way, frankly. I've never been to NYC before. I haven't been to a child psych conference before. I don't know what to do with all those child psychiatrists! There's going to be like a bazillion people I don't know. Not to mention, the last time I went to a national conference was right before my life fell apart in NH. Which....okay....this is a whole different time. And a whole different life. And, okay, I'm pretty good at dealing with people I don't know.
I'm just wishing I was feeling a little better about myself these days.
One thing I did manage to accomplish today (after spending like three hours at the coffee shop) was procuring motorcycle gloves. My riding and safety course is the weekend after I get back, so today Larry and I went shopping for the last item required for the course (he needed winter riding gloves, too). We spent way too much time trying on the same four pairs of gloves. I decided faster than he did, though, and wandered over to look at armored jackets (which were surprisingly more reasonably priced than I thought). I promptly got stuck in one when the zipper malfunctioned. He couldn't get me out of it. I finally got it off over my head. It was really comical. And I was hesitant to try on any others, but I think I found one I like. I took a picture of the tag and tucked that away for later. But in the midst of all this, I'm being all neurotic and anxious, and I keep pointing out my anxiety and neurosis. And Larry finally tells me, "You know you're no different from anyone else, right?"
It was, perhaps, a little bit of the pot calling the kettle neurotic. But it was a nice reminder, too, how we all have a little bit of crazy.
One of these days I'll really be able to own mine. I think that's the goal, you know? Not to eliminate it, of course - it's what makes us who we are - but to work with it. To reduce distress. It's what I do professionally, and it's what I'm trying to do personally.
It's kinda tough....
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