Dry, dry, dry, dry

It is Friday! It is the end of May already, this month has evaporated.

I’ve taken 4 stabs at this post, and as much as I want to write, nothing is flowing for me today so I will leave you with this little funny.

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If you venture out on your Iron Horse this weekend, keep the shiny side up, and your mouth closed. Yes, I got a bug…it was quite bitter. No more smiley rides till I get a windshield!

Fear sucks, and other struggles

Being a novice motorcycle rider, I KNOW that the only way to get better is time in the saddle.

The strangest phenomenon has happened the last 3 weeks…I got scared.
Scared to take off, scared to stop, scared to turn right, scared to go over 30, scared to go too slow around the corner, scared I’d drop the bike, scared to disappoint my husband, I almost threw up today as I put on my helmet and headed down the driveway.

If you know me, you would have your jaw on the floor. I hate fear. I refuse fear. Fear is a 4 letter word that I don’t allow in my vocabulary. In fact, my greatest successes in life have come from when some one has told me “afraid not…you are too…” My “hell no” kicks in and I prove them wrong. I refuse to fear, I refuse to be labeled. I am a warrior, not a worrier.

The first single lane right turn I was going too slow, I gassed to quick, wobbled, and went wide. No traffic coming so…no foul so to speak, but it made the hubs mad, and he gassed his 110, leaving me behind in disgust. We pulled to a dead end road, and worked on the clutching, and discussed my thought process. I thought I would barf right then and there. The nausea choked me. I was sweating and shaking. I was disgusted with myself.

That is the problem…my thoughts, and riding to please him, instead of just riding. My husband demanding to understand my thought process shook me. I’m overthinking.

I’m a visual-verbal learner. When I finished my rider’s training, I had so much confidence I rented a new Fat Boy low with a 103 engine, and rode that big dog home 48 miles through curves, highway, traffic, and speed with strength and confidence. I never thought I couldn’t do it. I had never ridden anything bigger than a Honda 250. But my confidence, and training held true. I never believed I couldn’t do it.

It wasn’t until my husband started asking me questions, and inspecting my process that things started to fall apart. I’m not saying it is his fault. He has a different way. He has to think and talk. I have to see and hear. I left my way, and lost my confidence. On that bike, I am responsible for that throttle. I will go at my pace, and when my husband babies me, as he has done for the last three weeks, I will peel off, and ride my own pace. Baby-ing me will not make me a better rider. That road is real.

Well, you might ask, what happened? I have to stay true to my way. I got angy, grabbed my gumption back, kicked that devil in the ass and said

HELL NO!

I rode home confessing my ability all the way. The voice I have to respect and believe is mine, especially when I am quoting scripture to myself. I can do “all things through Christ who strengthens me”!

This is my bike, and I’m riding it. Nobody is telling me different.

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The best part of the ride was coming back into the neighborhood, I negotiated all the parked vehicles on the street, the lawn crews, all the turns, waved at our neighbors who didn’t know I had a bike, and shocking all the burb-nerds with the fact that yea, that was me on the bike. That is me, on the bike. Deal with it.

Seeking the contemporary 50 something for a sense of history.

It is strange reaching this age. I used to be surrounded by contemporaries…now I seem to be surrounded by youngsters.

Not that they aren’t charming, smart, funny, witty people….it is just that sense of history that is missing.

Styx and Foreigner were in town for a concert. I remember going to see Foreigner in concert in the early 80’s. I had a Styx album (can’t remember which one). I think it had Mr. Roboto on it. I was also into J Giles Band, AC/DC’s Back on Black was the album everywhere. ELO was dominating the airwaves. I even wandered into Techno-pop with Devo. I kinda drew the line at Boy George…he creeped me out. But give me some Police, and I was a happy girl.

My first concert was ELO in Fort Worth in 1980, when they had the big space ship over the stage. I was mesmerized by the whole thing, especially the people at the concert. I had never been around pot, and it was a show to watch the crowd. My date was really disappointed in me. I’m a bit of a sheltered gal, even now.

So I’m nostalgic on my Foreigner concert experience, and I say “wow that takes ya back to high school!”
This very sweet voice says “I was 8.”
Connection lost, static ensues. I don’t think I heard anything else for the rest of the afternoon, just static.

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Have you ever shared a fond memory and been left hanging?

Does music evoke memories for you?

Do you long for a sense of history and commonality?

Do you ever hear the ‘static’ when someone can’t relate to what you are saying?

I’m grateful today for the people I share some history and commonality. It is really cool to be with people who “get you”.

Wordy Wednesday

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Sometimes you just need the right word.

May you flourish the rest of the week with Happiness, Health, and Prosperity.

Shalom! (Nothing missing, and nothing broken, peace and wholeness in every form, physical, social, emotional, and financial.)

The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears or the sea. – Isak Dinesen

This is an amazing post by ksbeth. Enjoy!

I didn't have my glasses on....

Image

This photo series by Rose-Lynn Fisher captures tears of grief, joy, laughter and irritation under the microscope.

Tears aren’t just water.

They’re primarily made up of water, salts, antibodies and lysozymes,

but the composition depends on the type of tear.

There are three main types –

basal tears, reflex tears, and weeping tears.

As you can see,

they can look incredibly different when evaporated and placed under a microscope.

Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.
Albert Camus

More info: http://bit.ly/RJqvK7
Images by Rose-Lynn Fisher, via the Smithsonian Magazine and ScienceAlert.

 

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Have the most awesome week!

It is a late Sunday afternoon, and my mind is drifting toward next week.

I’m content and happy with this lovely day, and I’m looking forward to next week.

Set your mind on the good things that could happen for you next week. Focus on the good, and watch it bloom.

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I am becoming the most successful me I can be.

I think I need new glasses

I fly at least twice a month. I usually fly Southwest. I know the routine. I get through TSA like an obedient member of the traveling herd.

Somehow I found myself in a new airport, and I didn’t read the gate assignment right on the monitor, and thought I was in the wrong terminal. This airport is under construction, and I couldn’t move from terminal A to B without exiting TSA and having to go back through.

I should have looked closer at the monitors, or at least shown someone my boarding pass, because I ended up taking a long walk for nothing and going through TSA twice.

So friendly advice for travelers. Different airlines take off at the same time for the same city. Two 10:35 flights to the same large city are not uncommon.

Don’t exit TSA until you confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt you have to. The line was twice as long the second time through.

If I had been running late this would have sent my stress levels over the edge. But as it was, I had plenty of time, I had a good walk, and I learned a lesson I should have already known.

Yes, TSA will look at you closer if you come back through twice. Why would anyone want to do that? Check your gate assignments carefully!

I chose to leave my terminal, I had to get over the consequences of my choice.

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