Monthly Archives: September 2012

Yesterday I Gave My Old Bike Away

September 24, 2012

Yesterday I gave my old bike away.

I wheeled it out of the garage and took a long look at its  cushy black seat and banana handlebars. I ran a hand over its shiny basket.

It was dusty, and a tire was flat.

There were some scrapes on its pink body, and the rims of the tires were cracking.

It was the bike I rode the year I lived in Arizona.

That was the year I learned to be me.

That year I rode it miles and miles between home and campus. I rode it to yoga school. I rode it to eat pita bread and feta at my favorite restaurant. I rode it when I didn’t know a soul but was hoping to change that.

I rode it to classes on Shakespeare and short stories and Paradise Lost.

I rode it to new friends’ houses, and parties, and my boyfriend’s house.

On Halloween I rode it wearing a pointy hat and red-and-white striped stockings. (I was humming the Wicked Witch’s theme.)

I rode it during rain storms and the hottest summer you’ve ever seen.

I rode it past palm trees and road construction.

I rode it while I learned to make a community of people from a group of strangers.

I rode it while I learned to be independent. How to take deep breaths when I needed them. How to take care of myself when I was alone.

Once I rode it while crying. Several times I rode it while laughing.

I rode it while figuring out that how a man looks on paper  has nothing to do with what kind of person he is. That a long list list of credentials has no sway on whether or not he’s going to love you.

I rode it while I figured out (joyfully) that the one I’d loved all along really was the right one for me.

And then I graduated. And I packed up my things and tied my tired pink bike to the top of my car and drove home to the snow, and hills, and David. And it has sat for 6 years.

David bought me a new bike for our neighborhood. It is smooth and fast and dreamy as an orange soda in August. It has gears and strong tires. I ride it very fast and smile every time I do. And even though my pink bike has sat alone, I just couldn’t let it go.

Yesterday I learned my neighbor needed a bike. And I knew it was time to say goodbye.

Yesterday I gave my old bike away.

And as she wheeled away that year of history and growth and tears

(can you blame me?)

I cried.

Let’s get reacquainted.

September 21, 2012

I think it’s time to get reacquainted. Possibly over tea and wafer cookies. (I’ll wait while you go get them.)

Now let me tell you a little story. There once was a girl who seemed to enjoy making strange observations about everyday life. You know, taking the mundane and turning it into large, overblown blog posts. This is her:

Don’t ask why she took this particular picture. It isn’t important. But it is important to note that this is the last time she wore that knit sweater before its little holes stretched out enough to officially become Lewd And Obscene.

This girl (we’ll call her Green Lemon), had a cute husband and a dog that occasionally could look normal in photos, like so:

(She likes to call this photo “Man or Muppet?” after one of her favorite songs.) A much more typical picture of her dog is something like this:

So one day this girl was minding her own business, and this happened:

Followed by this:

And eventually this:

THE END.

Did you fall for it? Of course not. You’re much too savvy for that. And besides, I haven’t been gone that long.

The baby pictured is Millie. She belongs to my cousin. Unlike my baby, Millie is fully cooked and ready for playing, so I occasionally have to take pictures with her. And make scary monster noises with her. My baby is about the size of an avocado, and in the two ultrasounds we’ve had displays the most delicious pair of chicken legs I’ve ever seen.

So that’s where I’ve been. And no, I haven’t been posting. But I have been writing. I’d like to take this opportunity to present my new series. It is called:

PREGNANT WILDEBEEST.

And there’s a whole line-up of posts waiting to be published. Stay tuned.