Tuesday, September 9, 2014

Sons of Anarchy VS the Flowerdy Purse

I was sitting in the ER at the hospital waiting to hear about my friend who had a pretty good bump on her head and was getting looked at. The parking Lot was full of all kinds of motorcycles. The lounge had groups of bikers in and out. Some of them were  "Bikers for Christ" wearing a vest or a shirt with the logo on the back. Some of them were in what you would expect. Lots of boots, denim vests with the sleeves cut off and giant patches with the club name on the back,  bandannas on their heads, kinda like Sons of Anarchy, only more worn out more "real" less Hollywood. There were a few women,  mostly sitting together comforting each other but not staying long,  not hanging out like the guys. Sitting in a chair across from me all alone was a unshaven crew cut fellow, next to the phone chargers with his plugged in. He was wearing a "Prospect" patch.

As I understand it ( and don't quote me on this it may be much more involved but since I'm not in a Biker Club and not well acquainted with the politics and rules except for what I have heard or seen on TV a  "Prospect" is usually someone who is in the process of becoming a member, kind of like the go to for the club. He hasn't "earned" his membership yet. So in other words he does all the stuff nobody else wants to do.

Now let me digress for a moment. I have not had tons of encounters with bikers. And most of the ones I have met were "retired" and had regular jobs. Really sweet intelligent guys who were a lot more Hello Angel than Hells Angels if you know what I mean. I'm sure there are some really bad, bad ones. But I have been lucky enough to not encounter any.

 I did meet one when my car got a flat tire and a biker stopped and changed it for me and then made sure I got to the tire place to get it repaired. He asked for my phone number and I told him I had a boyfriend and he said "OK call me if you get tired  of him." winked and rode away like a knight in dirty leathers. So I guess I have a secret fondness for them because of that one big fella and his being a gentleman.

Well I'm sitting there biker watching trying to figure out whats happened and the Prospect catches my eye. We smile at each other and I ask if I can plug my phone into the public hospital charger next to him and he says sure. I put it on the rack and then this happens.

Prospect:" That's sure a big purse."

Me: "It sure is. ( Its actually not as big as most of my friends but you know to the untrained eye it probably looks like a suitcase.) You wanna borrow it?"

Prospect: "Ha no I gotta bike bag to keep all my tools, I got everything in there you need. I'm a prospect so if someone needs it I gotta have it, tools, nuts and bolts, superglue, even socks." ( He was proud of this which I thought showed a go getter attitude on his part.)

Me:" You sure you don't wanna borrow it, the flowers would bring out your feminine side."

Prospect: Laughs,  "No Ma am I better not carry a flowerdy bag."

So we sat in the uncomfortable plastic seats of the hospital and shared a moment.

Just two people, charging our phones, people watching , and hoping our somebodies were OK.

Me with my flowerdy purse, him with his biker bag.

Hospitals, the great equalizer....

Tuesday, September 2, 2014

Searching for "The Best Dog in the World." from 2005

Tuesday July 5, 2006

I am a 43 year old woman with a 5 year old son who has the energy level of the EverReady Bunny.

He gets sick of trying to explain to me how to play rescue heroes, hot lava jumping, and placating him with book readings in all the different voices which is not satisfying him either.
He is bored playing alone and has started asking me for a baby which i am not too enthusiastic about most of the time.

So I got the idea ( mostly because of my own fond remembrances of my past with dogs while growing up)  to possibly find him a dog. I approach the subject with my husband who wants to remind me that we had an agreement to wait til the oldest cat in the world has passed on to get a dog. I bring up the fact that she is now in her eleventy millionth year of life and senile their is no sign that she will be passing on soon. so if we wait our boy may well be into college before he gets a dog.

This conversation is taking place in the car where our boy mentions he wants a brother to play with so could we PLEASE get married again and have a baby? It makes sense in a way at least in his little mind because that's the usual procession of things. My husband looks at me with his mouth and lips pursed trying not to spit diet Coke out of his nose as i try to explain it all to the fellow in the back seat but finally give up and whisper to husband "Its about the dog...'

So I enlist the help of my best girl who is a HUGE dog lover and we begin with the help of the boy to wear Dad out, or down as you will.

Its a short trip, but he finally relents and offers up the terms of the deal which may be renegotiated at any time according to him.

1. No Yappers or dogs under 30 pounds. No taco bell dogs, or teacup or anything that's under 30 pounds because they are just to small, like a bug.

2. No dogs that are notorious for snapping, escaping, or higher energy than our boy as if that's possible.

3. No breeds that are high strung or runners that will be really clever back yard jail breakers and run away like a beagle, or a hound.

4. No gold miners, no chain saws, no unhousebroken or so smart they can use the cell phone to call in a order of steaks to be delivered.

5. No car chasers, cat harassers, or that pull your arm out of socket during walks.

6. No dogs who think that the midnight bark from Lady and the Tramp should last 24 hours a day simply because someone the next block over started it.

My dreams of a teeny ball of fluff in my designer bag are out the window....

Queen of starting over #More than the gym

Oh the pool how she beckoned. 90 plus degrees outside and that cool blue water, cutting though it,
doing laps like Diana Nyad in the ocean. It was so refreshing to dive in. But the vision of a calm lap pool is gone. Its more like kid Olympics. Marco Polo, diving under water for dropped toys, trying to balance on the water board, more playing, playing, playing.  Cannon Balls, splashing, lots of fresh air, lots of sunshine. I was so exhausted I could barely keep my head up to get undressed for bed that night.

So I'm learning Fitness can be more than the gym.

It can be putting on dance music and boogie buttin around the house like a wild monkey hula dancer til I can barely breath.

It can be swimming with a bunch of crazy kids having a great time like your 11 again.

It can be fixing that flat tire on my bike Gypsy and getting her roadworthy so I can ride next week.

It can be so much more you just have to keep yourself open.

Because its all about getting moving, and staying moving, and honoring what it brings out.

Sometimes it brings out all the anger and I swing those ropes til my arms can't lift them again.

Sometimes its frustration at things I can't control but I CAN control and focus on stepping up and stepping down, stepping up and stepping down, during my Cross Fit.

Sometimes its a workout where I just don't have any energy left and I just sit in the car on the way home and cry because I'm so exhausted and all the sadness I have bottled up comes out.

Sometimes its that quiet smile and satisfaction at having done something. that I
did it JUST FOR ME.