My mind and the way I run my life, I'm finding, is like a shelf with limited space, and if I get excited about something new, something else falls off the shelf. It's easily forgotten as I clap my hands and squeal over the New Thing. I feel very simple lately and I catch myself only thinking about a few things; shiny, glittery things. I'm oblivious to what was on the shelf just a week ago.
Oooo, bicycles . . .they're so pretty and fun = Core/strength classes fall off the shelf (To be fair, I've always loved bikes ever since I first got on a Big Wheel at age 4, but lately I'm so blinded by them, like they slipped me a mickey. Like, my love for them was not expressed enough before and I must now pay a penance for not waving the banner high enough and I'm required to shout this from the roof tops. "You know I love you, Bikes, I'll love you forever. No, really baby, I will. Your place on the shelf is permanent.")
Writing Workshop . .. wweeeeeee! So sparkly = All forms of cooking/baking/raw food prep have fallen off the shelf. (Ok, to be fair again, writing has been on and off and in the shadows of the shelf since I was 10, but I've been so mean to it. Writing has just been waiting, tapping its foot wondering when I'd get over that cooking tramp. Or that time I was off with the jewelry making floozy. Or whatever other secondary creative whores I've dabbled in. "Oh Writing, I've been no-good. I'll love you forever. You gotta believe me this time, honey.")
My kitty, TeaCake . . . he's so soft and handsome and lovey. Ride or die, TeaCake! Please note nothing has fallen off the shelf here. I still love my pugs and my children. I just love this cat so much!
Obama must win . . .I'm fired up to tell the news about the impending doom if he doesn't = Where'd the Prop 2 noise go? Goddamn me. Prop 2 is hanging by a string off the shelf and I'm trying to juggle the monumental importance of this presidential election and the importance of this proposition getting passed because 20 million animals will get a little bit of a break when it does. You know the story. But I've told the family that if McCain & Whatshername get voted in, our bags are packed for Spain. Or maybe we'll join Zoey & Keith's commune in Iceland; they're mapping one out in case of emergency. Husband's up for Vancouver too. At first Maya was like, "Woohoo! Spain!" But after a while -- after the notion fell off her shelf -- she said, "I want to stay here." I said, "Me too."
That's about it. That's all I have room for because there are the mandatory fixtures of the shelf too, of course: workingcleaningpreparingmealsmanagingthehouse, and my fav fixture Being Mami.
Oh man, Dia de los Muertos is coming up. You know how I feel about that. I robotically clear everything off the shelf for a solid two weeks for that brilliant bit of distraction.
I asked Betsy last week if she'd be up for touring the California Coast on bicycles next year. I don't know anyone more up for such an adventure. I thought it was a lock until she said, Hell No. She said I'd have to be nutz to ride Highway 1 on a bike, which really is a precarious, windy and often foggy death-trap of a road. Every time she drives by cyclists on the 1 she says, "INSANE!" She just shouts it out in her car. Damit, Betsy. What about a ride to the Grand Canyon? Would you be up for that? Through the Mohave Desert and over the Dead Mountains? Because touring and bicycles are so cool and fun and glittery, don't you know?
Portraits of Cyclists in Paris
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