Walk a Mile in My Shadow

My Katie is getting married in less than two months, and the dress I'm wearing to that is even sharper than the dress I wore to Bridge's wedding back in May (although my boobs are not so impressive now, but oh well).  As such, I got had to get a pair of correspondingly sharp shoes:

no choice in the matter, really

...and I had to get them well in advance, because shoes like these require practice when a doc-marten-wearing-girl like me decides to don them.

Reinflated

Lately I've been feeling kind of bad about my bike riding performance, like I've just really lost a lot of strength.  It always feels so hard to pedal, especially when I have my (admittedly pretty weighty) paniers strapped on.  The final insult came the other morning when I got passed by someone who was obviously less fit than me, on an inferior bike- on the uphill!

That was depressing, and a little voice in my head said surely, surely something must be wrong with my bike, but then another righteous voice told me not to make excuses for my own lack of fitness and moreover not to be so judgmental over someone else's perceived fitness.  Suck it up, O- you're just a wuss these days!

But then this morning I suddenly realized that, no, I am not a wuss- my stupid back tire is mostly flat.  And I immediately felt a million times better about myself, and after work I went over to Bad Monkey and remedied the problem.

Ego repaired!

And sure enough- I'm having a much easier time pedaling now.

It's Coava!

The bean dog herself!

Dragon Scale Gold

We went and got pedicures today... so nice.  All climbers should get pedicures, for real.  You don't have to get color (although how could anyone resist such sparkle?!) but you should definitely let them pamper your much-abused feet.

Behold the calluses left by my climbing shoes! (I need new climbing shoes!)

We renamed the color I chose, because it was something more boring than "Dragon Scale Gold", and it got me to thinking about dragons and nesting on gold hordes and how wouldn't it be interesting if dragons weren't born with scales but had to go out and get them like a hermit crab does his shell?  And they nest in gold because it's the softest metal, so their babies get a sort of "down" before they begin adding stronger scales of iron or steel... yup, it could totally be an element of a short story.

Their Sins Were Writ Upon Our Hands

Guess what we did today!

Murder!

...blackberry murder, that is...

The Specialness of the Mundane

I was twelve years old when we moved to a small Southern town.  Prior to that point I had spent my young life living on or near military bases, surrounded by and going to school with kids just like me- kids who moved every one-to-three years, and who lived far away from their extended families.

But that's not how things work in a small town.

We moved to this small town, and I suddenly found myself surrounded by kids who had spent their entire lives in one place.  In fact, their parents had also spent their entire lives in that same place, and so had their grandparents before them.  Generally speaking, these generations all lived within five miles of each other, a concept utterly foreign to me.  The native kids and I each pitied the other for our respective inferior life experiences, and they seemed especially horrified by the idea of me only seeing my grandparents once a year, if that.  I told them loftily that I didn't mind, because it meant when I did see my grandparents it was special.  And it was.  There were presents and outings and events.  Cookie-baking and quilt-making and swimming in lakes and oceans.  Very special whirlwinds of time, and I cherish those memories.

I currently live about three-thousand miles away from that small Southern town, and consequently my mother.  This obviously means that I don't get to see her as often as I might like, which in turn means that when she does visit it is, as I always insisted, special.  Because that's what rare and valuable things are.

But here's the other thing about special- your concept of it changes.  So yes, when we got up somewhat early this morning and had an outing to the Farmer's Market to find Rainier cherries, only it turned out that the Hawaiian Cultural Festival was going on so we got to experience the fun and excitement of that, and my mom flitted from booth to booth buying presents for everyone including myself... it was something out of the ordinary, something special.  But more special, to me, was me standing in the kitchen making ice cream, being able to glance up and see my mom sitting out back with the dog, reading.  More special, to me, was the moment I myself sat in the sunshine, calm and at peace knowing my mom was napping and my husband working on the new fence.  Special no longer means spending every possible moment Doing Something Together, but rather savoring the knowledge that if I wanted to, all I have to do is walk into the living room.

the ring Mom bought me

Plush

golden waves