Though I haven’t talked about it much, I have been riding my motorcycle. Not much, but I’ve been getting out there. And I’ve been falling. So has my bike.
It goes a little something like this: I pop the clutch. The bike stalls. The bike gets away from me. The bike falls down. I fall down. In the best possible world when that happens I miraculously manage to get out from under the bike before it comes crashing down on me.
Last Saturday when that happened I was out our corner. The bike went down on my right side. I called for Chuck between sobs. He made me pick the bike up.
Yesterday I was over at the local college, heading to the big empty parking lot to practice. This time the bike went down to the left. I miraculously managed to not end up underneath it, but bruised my entire left calf on the inside. Frankly, if it didn’t hurt so damned much I’d be amazed at the spectacular colors it has turned.
Chuck picked the bike up for me yesterday. And I hardly cried at all.
But yesterday instead of giving up in defeat, I spent the next hour (or so) practicing my right turns, doing slalom turns, and otherwise finally somewhat enjoying that whole wind in my hair (OK, helmet) feeling of motorcycle riding.
In fact, I had such a good time that I suggested that we go on a family motorcycle outing today. Clearly something got rattled loose in my brain in one of my many falls. But hell, I’m intrepid.
We agreed that the bagel place was the best destination. Far enough away to qualify as going more than around the block, but in a not overly traffic-y area. In an extremely unlike me manner, I woke up at 7:15 this morning, itching to go. Unfortunately, Zoe didn’t wake up until 9:45 and Chuck didn’t get out of bed until well after 10. So I’d been cooling my heels for 3+ hours and was afraid I was going to lose my nerve. But hell, I’m intrepid.
Off we went. Zoe rode with Chuck. I
zoomed putt putted there under my own speed. But apparently, in finally figuring out how to make right turns I lost my ability to stop my bike. All the way to bagels I kept putting my feet down too early. But we got there. In one piece.
We dined al fresco sucking in the car fumes on Ventura Blvd. I made it there. Alive. Now all I had to do was make it home. As we were leaving we had our first star sighting of the day: Ace Young. His lovely photo has been added to my celeb gallery over there on the right. He was with his family. And the table of four little tweeners two over from us were positively aflutter. Yeah, he’s cute. The ubiquitous wallet chain was mysteriously absent.
Time to go home. Finally. A right then left out of the parking. A right turn up Fulton. A left onto our street, and a right into our driveway. I’d be home.
But noooooooooooooooooooo. Chuck had to stop at Rite Aid. Chuck wanted me to go with him to Rite Aid. I reluctantly agreed to go to Rite Aid. Add another left on Riverside and a right into the parking, then a left out of the parking, a left on our street, and a right into the driveway. I could do it.
I made it into the Rite Aid parking lot with only a minor incident of gear problems. And I even managed to get over my Fred Flinstone inclination to stop the damned motorcycle using my feet!
Star sighting number 2 of the day in the Rite Aid parking lot: Timothy Busfield. I’ve had a crush on Tim Busfield since back in the 30 Something days.
And with the exception of my last left turn into our street, for which the best thing I can say is that I recovered well, I would chalk today’s outing up as a successful one.
I come from a long line of puzzle people. In my dad’s house in the country there was always a folding table set up with a Par puzzle in progress. Each puzzle piece in itself was a work of art.
Then there are crosswords. My Grandma Anne did the Sunday New York Times puzzle in ink every week. My mom is a puzzler. I’m a puzzler. So is my sister. I look forward to the Sunday paper each week when I get to enjoy two large puzzles. Plus I have several Sunday Times crossword puzzle books in case I need a mid-week fix.
And let’s not forget Scrabble, the second cousin to crosswords. Because I solve crosswords I have a long list of arcane words at my disposal ready to throw down on the board…when all I have to choose from are perhaps a Q, D, T, I, A, I, and I. This is a source of great annoyance to my husband who has renamed the game Squabble.
But while I’m not ready to completely forsake my love of word and picture puzzles, I’ve added a new addiction to my puzzling repertoire: Sudoku. For those of you who’ve been sleeping under a rock for the last, say, year, Sudoku is a puzzle made of nine large grids comprised of 3×3 boxes. Each box will contain the numbers 1-9, with each number only appearing one time per box. Furthermore, each row across and each row up and down can only contain the number 1-9 one time.
I discovered Sudoku about a week ago and now own three books and just ordered an electronic hand-held game that should be here by Monday.
I can’t get enough.
So it’s been more than a month since I’ve posted an entry. It’s not that I haven’t sat down and starting writing one (or two or three or four), but they don’t seem to make it up here. And since I’m all about avoiding what’s on my laptop at the other end of this room, I thought I’d fill you in on the goings on here chez Atkins.
1. Middle School. Yup, the princess is in 6th grade and has officially started Middle School. The first week was a bit rocky, with 5+ hours of homework a night, but things have settled down and we’re in a groove now. This is her first year with actual letter and number grades (no more smiley face stickers in Middle School). And with the exception of math (the continued bane of our existence) the grades have been excellent. Even Latin (so those early years of reinforcing those neural pathways seem to have paid off, though right now I wish I’d focused on some math skills too).
2. Work continues to be excellent. Huge sigh of relief. We had a bit of a rough patch at the beginning of the summer but things have smoothed out and I’m once again a happy clam (except for now when I’m avoiding the drama on the laptop and writing this entry instead).
3. Chuck continues to travel to all the glamour spots of the world. This week: St. Louis.
4. I spent this past weekend in New York attending my 30 year high school reunion. Actually not my high school and not my year. Allow me to explain: I moved to Los Angeles to finish my senior year of high school out here. The reunion was from the high school I attended when I lived in Brooklyn. And technically it was the official reunion of the class of 76 (I was the class of 77) but then it turned into a multi-year reunion thing so I went. Most of the people I went to high school with I started going to school with in kindergarten, and many of them were there. And I have not seen these people in the 30 years it has been since I lived in Brookyn. But the odd thing is, I have not actually aged 30 years (although there’s a picture in my attic that is very very old.)
I anticipated a lot of really big hair, long fingernails, and sequins. I was disappointed on the hair issue, but there were enough sequins to choke a horse (which I don’t guess is many sequins actually cuz they’re likely to get stuck in your throat), and a lot of really long, really dark red, painted fingernails. Ladies of leisure I suppose. I did not wear sequins, thankyouverymuch, but instead chose a lovely black knit jersey wrap dress that packed really well.
I stayed on Long Island with the woman who was my best friend in high school. I saw her last about 19 years ago. We spent most of my time there (with the exception of the reunion) catching up, and that was nice. Her mom was staying with her for the Jewish holidays. Terri’s mom was old when we were in high school, so now, 30 years later, she’s positively ancient. But her mom looked exactly the same as she did back then. Go figure.
4. This summer I enrolled Zoe in Cotillion and she started last night. Party dresses, tights, appropriate shoes, white gloves and all. She is going with Katie and they’re both absolutely thrilled about this (as you can well imagine). Katie’s mom and I watched for the first half hour or so and then left. We were there long enough to see the girls do their first waltzes. When I returned to do pickup detail they were on to the foxtrot. Chuck left me the digital camera to immortilize the moment, but naturally when I went to take a pic last night it was out of batteries and he has the charger with him in St. Louis. I’ll get better pix at our next outing, but here’s one courtesy of my camera phone:
That’s all for now.