Ever Stop to Think...

...and forget to start again? That is the way the holidays are beginning to make me feel.Discombobulated. A semi arrives tomorrow and disgorges my son's life. We will do triage on the pavement. There will be things that go to the new home. Things that go in the basement. Things that go to the curb. There will be much heavy lifting ( with good posture of course). Then there will be collard chips, to keep the team intact. There is nothing better than collard chips: fresh pieces of collards sprayed with olive oil, dusted in Parmesan, sprinkled with rock salt, microwaved for five minutes. YUM !

Connecting at the Crossroads

I dream of pedestrian communities stitched together with bike paths. Tonight at 7:30 I was biking down C. Street laden with bags of CSA collards and warm bread when someone called my name. It was a friend who was out walking a dog she had promoted from foster dog to family dog. The dog was fluffy white and a bit spooked by my flashing red night lights and my neon jacket. Then I heard a second familiar voice and saw a second dog walker. The five of us met in the middle of the street and exchanged info while the dogs sniffed one another in delight. Get folks out of their cars and connections happen. Dogs encourage connection. Biking encourages connection. Tonight was spokal networking at its finest.

Raining On the Asphalt and in My Chest

Bad cold. I feel like I am breathing silk. Still, life goes on. I have a board meeting in San Marco at noon and in rain that mean I must USE THE CAR. The giant silver Buick encapsulates me and amuses me with NPR report on the global food shortage. I lumber across the Acosta Bridge and slide into my parking spot. After the meeting, I swim home. Then...wonder of wonders....the sky clears. I walk the miles to Lakeshore Cycle shop and pick up my new bike with the wonderful collapsible baskets. It is silver and responses to my slightest movements. It almost feels as if I am riding Cinders again the volatile bay quarter horse who threw my friend Carol under the semi. Sitting on him was always something that required my constant attention. One daydreaming moment and I would have been roadkill. Urban biking has some of that same feel.