A Motorcycle Story

Joe has a monster of a motorcycle. It's a Moto Guzzi, an Italian bike. We had traveled to Italy one year and saw many of those bikes and he came home and bought one. Men. Motorcycles. What's a girl to do?

First I had to buy some cowboy boots. I am five feet seven inches tall and that is still too short to get on or off that bike with dignity. Hence the boots. Those extra inches give me the boost I need. After riding for seventy miles my everything is numb and dignity is forgotten. But I try.

Joe decided the Guzzi required a custom seat. Having a numb butt convinced him I think. Joe had to measure my butt. Dear Lord. Then photograph me sitting on the old seat. He was measured as well but Joe has no butt to speak of. That must hurt him after a while don't ya think?

The butt photos were sent with the butt measurements to this man in California. He built this tricked out custom leather seat. It is not overly large. Smile. It does feel better. The humiliation was totally worth it.

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My New British Friend

We have had our little yellow house for six months now. We have met everyone in the vicinity except for the neighbor closest to us. Everyone told us she had no interest in talking to anyone at all. Interesting. Her dog does not mind eliminating in our yard at all. I have imagined her watching me out of her windows. Her house sits a little above ours. She is elderly and not well we have been told. Three of our trees need to be removed. I told Joe it would be just our luck one of them would fall on something that belonged to the person who did not acknowledge us!

On Sunday we attended the early church service at TrueNorth. Awesome. It. Was. Then we had lots and lots of yellow house stuff to do before returning to our old house. Joe was working on a table and he hung a lovely shabby chic chandelier. I worked in the flower garden. Miniature roses are about to blossom. Yeh. I can't wait to see them. I was fertilizing and watering the roses when our backyard neighbor stepped out on her porch to speak to her grandson who was washing her car. I waved at her. It was literally the first chance I had to wave or speak to her. She is that reclusive. She said welcome to the neighborhood and told me to come over. I did. We talked for thirty minutes. She first told me she was married but her husband lived with a whore. Ahem. How do you respond to that? I really didn't as she kept on telling me about herself. She is from London and has that great British accent. She is charming and blunt in a distinctly British fashion.

Anyone close to me knows I read British mysteries. P.D.James, Ruth Rendell, and Agatha Christie are some of my favorites. To now have an albeit grouchy British friend right in my backyard is splendid. I feel she is lonely and needs cheering a bit. Maybe we can have tea. I will bring scones.

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What Do a Razor, Staple Gun and Pliers Have in Common?

Have you ever known anyone who stapled their own leg wound, cut off their own hemorrhoid and pulled out their tooth with pliers? I have. These folks are amazing and special. I worked with a CERT team officer at a prison whose nick name was Stone Cold. He loved to fish and hunt when he wasn't working at the prison sixty hours a week. He was hunting one morning and jumped a barbed wire fence and filleted his calf. He had about a seven inch long wound. He went home and stapled it himself. He did not know if his tetanus was up to date. Hence the nick name.

Linda, an advanced Nurse Practitioner, tied her hemorrhoid off with a rubber band and sliced it off with a razor. Words cannot express the pain involved here. How did she do this? I imagine she injected herself with 2% Lidocaine first to numb the area. But still. I don't wish to visualize this. What position does one get oneself in to do this? Anyho I am afraid of her. She is the woman.

Cruella, Cruella, my dearest Cruella. She is my friend as well as the person who does my nails. One of her upper large teeth broke off over the weekend. She had an appointment for Monday to see the dentist. She could not wait as the pain was excruciating. She simply cleaned a pair of pliers with alcohol and pulled out that tooth. She thought nothing of it. It took immediate care of her pain and saved her money. Simple. She does not understand that ninety-nine per cent of the population would not do this. She did have oral surgery on Monday to finish the job. This explains a lot actually. She has not one iota of sympathy when doing my nails.

These three are not ordinary individuals. They take charge of their bodies, much like people in our recent past had to before we became such a nanny state. I am not recommending this behavior as a course of action for anyone to take under similar conditions, however I admire their spirit immensely.

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Finding My TrueNorth

We are looking for a church to attend on the weekends when we are at the yellow house. Walking into a strange church is not for wimps. It actually brings out the shy one in me. This past Sunday I went all by myself to a church just up the road. CC was studying and Joe was doing our taxes at the last minute literally.

Easter Sunday Joe and I went to this huge church that about two thousand plus people were in attendance. We had no place to park. We put the Mini in a storm drain. That is a distinct advantage to a small car. Naturally we were late so we sat in the nose-bleed section of the balcony. I was completely out of my freaking mind and wore high heels. I had to climb stairs in the balcony which slaughtered my right knee. Totally deserved it I suppose. I have some difficulty feeling a part of such a large group. That church, while the folks were friendly and the message just fine, was too BIG.

The church I went to alone was different in a lot of ways. They have people in the parking lot directing traffic. The guy told me to put on my flashers as I was a first time visitor. One Problem. I could not find my flashers! I told him I was a dork. He smiled and directed me to a space close to the door anyway. A lady helped me out of the car and welcomed me. The next thing I noted was the music. Not contemporary as is the fashion for a lot of church's I have been to recently. Rock n Roll Music. It was pouring out of the building. The parking lot may have been vibrating. I went inside. It was very dark. No light at all except on the band. A chorus was being sung by all. I did not know it. It was about Jesus. There were colored stage lights. After the songs one of the pastors spoke about baptizing. The folks being baptized all wore dunk'd t-shirts. About fifteen folks were dunk'd. It was a sweet special service. This place was full of young people. Everyone was attired in casual clothes. I looked like a first-timer I am sure because I was overdressed. These people are reaching teens and young adults. Not by being cool but by obedience to the Word. I will definitely return with my family. I am still a wimp but I know where my flashers are.

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I Never Wish To Do These Things Again

There are some things I never wish to do again. One is testify at a friends divorce trial. Always, always a terrible idea. The last time I did this I truly wanted to hurt somebody. A bad attitude rose in me in the most awful dark way. I do not want to feel that any more. I cannot fathom how people who share children can treat each other so cruelly. I was asked if I had been in a bar in 1976. This was actually funny and stupid on the lawyers part as I was a minor and did not know my friend at that time. That is how dirty those proceedings go. Apparently they just make up unpleasant facts.

The second thing I never wish to do is bail someone out of jail. I really think this one is self explanatory. I was working at the hospital on a weekend. The weekends were invariably short staffing wise. However a first degree relative of mine called and needed my services in the worst way. "Olive, I am in jail. Please get me out now." Now? My next question was what on earth did relative X do to get there in the first place. I did not like the answer. I left the hospital and put up a property bond. X was free on bond. I am not a fan of the whole making bond process. Just not ladylike.

The third thing is playing games. Yes games. Especially Cranium. I have no patience for games. I know the genius people of Mensa sit around and play them. So what! I will play Jenga. I recently played Domino Train. After suffering through fifty-nine rules or more I kind of like it. The Domino tiles are pretty and feel calming like prayer beads. I could see those dominoes in a glass jar somewhere. I am decorating in my head all the time. But in truth the actual game was enjoyable. I am up to a grand total of two games I like. A few years ago it was zero. Still growing, that's me. Just don't ask me to testify at your divorce trial.



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CC Wins a Major Award

Have you ever been flummoxed by a seemingly simple question? A daycare worker asked me how I got CC to say "thank you" and "yes mam". Well. At the time she asked CC was four. I replied that from the time she learned to talk she was taught these things and they were reinforced when needed. Simple really. Apparently CC was only one of a few children with manners at the daycare. I was thankful I did spend a lot of time with her as I had a flexible schedule as a nurse.

When she was in the second grade I went alone to her awards ceremony. She attended a private Christian school. Her Dad had to work. She was to receive no academic awards that she was aware of so we did not invite the grand-parents. The ceremony went on as they do. I was thinking of other things. Her teacher, Mrs. Beatrice Weathers, was an imposing figure to be certain. She was a firm but good teacher. CC really loved her. She was announcing the student award for Christian Character. The student who embodies a Christ-like character when interacting with others. It was CC. Oh my. CC was pleasantly surprised. I was also. I wished the rest of the family had been there. CC walked up front, beaming, and received that reward.

Then I drove her to our little dollar store. I told her she could get one toy. She took a long time deciding as children do. She could not decide between the "vanilla" bear and the "chocolate" bear. I told her to decide because we had to leave. She picked the vanilla. In the checkout aisle she laid in the floor and kicked the checkout counter demanding the chocolate bear. She kicked the tar out of that counter! I called that a Fo Fit. She used to have them when she was a toddler. That Christian Character slipped a bit. Yes?

CC is a freshman in a state college at present. She could win that award again today. She is a grounded young lady who knows what she stands for and who she serves. Fo Fits are definitely a laugh from the past.

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