Geocaching is an increasingly popular sport whereby members hide treasure pods full of goodies, post the coordinates, and send people to find them. I’ll get to the whole “hunt and seek” aspect of it in a different post, but for this one I’ll chunter on about the social aspects of how potlucks can make a determined shy person’s life easier. (more…)
This will only work for you if you don’t have certain obvious allergies. ;)
I’ve only ever been to one cat show before, but I decided to go to one last Sunday because Sean, a friend from out of town, and his wife were showing their bengals and really, I hadn’t seen my friend in almost ten years. So I rode down to the fairgrounds, had my hand stamped with a paw print, and went in search of my friend, who spotted me as I was about to text “Here I am.” (more…)
My body clock woke me up at a little before seven, giving me ample opportunity to snooze. It was already light out, because dawn starts before sunrise. However, there was something quite magical about turning 180 degrees in my bed, opening up the stubborn little curtains of the over-cab window and watching the gradually brightening glow where the sun would eventually pop over the horizon. (more…)
The weather started off horrible, eased a little, but by the time the parade was over had settled into a steady, fast drizzle which blurred camera lenses and failed entirely to dampen the spirits of everyone taking part. Even the contingent of Harley riders, wearing Santa hats and Hawai’ian shirts, didn’t seem to mind the rain and cold as they revved their bikes and waved. (more…)
When I was a kid, we went on a lot of road trips and played road games. Going to Europe, we’d love to see the stickers on the back of people’s cars showing which country they were from. Especially as we drew close to Slovenia, a “GB” plate was a rarity and occasion for much waving and smiling. (more…)
Memes of varying quality circulate the internet. I like the ones where a little thought or effort is required, or where I can fiddle with the rules. Some of them I do just for grins, but I tend not to post many here because they don’t usually fit in too well with the theme of this site (the travels, writing and musings of a female motorcycling author). (more…)
During the blogathon, I was lamenting the fact that about two dozen events that I wanted to attend were happening that same weekend. One of the things I was regretting was that I’d forgotten to attend the opening event of Joe Decker’s photography exhibition of his travels in Greenland, and that I’d likely be much too tired to attend its last day which was the day after the blogathon itself. (more…)
I could waste a lot of time and energy hating my shape and size, and sometimes I do. I’d really rather weigh sixty pounds less. But I don’t. And it’s not like I will lose those sixty pounds overnight, either. (No, this isn’t a paid post for liposuction, I promise. ;-)
A shopping trip I took last week was eye-opening. The girl at the changing room (she who hands out numbered tags and folds up rejects) was very patient as I made my three trips to the changing room so that I could have a fit. The first lot I brought in looked terrible. I had Larges and XLs and they were way too tight across the shoulders. My mind rebelled: had I gone from XL to XXL, an extra X never before seen? Then I realized that I’d grabbed these items from the Misses section and that while they could certainly accommodate my tummy they couldn’t manage my shoulders, which have been run through a 1400cc motorcycle for two years.
So I went back for more. I found some nice tees and polos, though it was really rather hard to find large enough sizes in colors I could wear. I don’t do shades of yellow and orange that well, I didn’t want white or black, and that’s what’s in. But I got that lot to the room and discovered that they were all long-sleeved. It’s August. It’s pushing a hundred degrees outside. And they’re selling stuff for the Fall.
The fashion industry is a moron.
I held on to the one boring white short-sleeved polo that was okay, and went hunting for more. I found myself in front of a shelf full of lovely bright-colored short-sleeved polos. The problem? This was the plus-size shelf. I have hitherto managed to stay away from the plus shelf. It’s a self-image sort of thing; a not admitting that I’m fat kind of thing. I was already sufficiently disgruntled by what the stark, cruel lighting of the changing rooms revealed.
I have a body where stuff wobbles. That’s just how it is. From this shelf, this shelf that proved that I was currently a plus-woman, I could get purple, red and navy. I did not have to wear white, black or mustard.
I told my self-image to go get stuffed. I am what I am. And now I am what I am in some colors that I like.
Suggestion: Stuff vanity. Buy clothes that fit in colors that you like and accept what you are. You can surely change it, but not in time for work.
I’ve sat here for about an hour now trying to summon up the energy to write a trip report, but it isn’t happening. There’s usually a reason for such things, so I’m going to leave that until tomorrow and write this, instead.
Don and I went camping overnight. I told him that he was welcome to bring my laptop but that I didn’t want to use it. I made a conscious decision to leave my blog at home.
For you, “blog” might mean “work” or “homework” or “unspecified thing that I’m obsessing about right now.” It doesn’t matter what it is, exactly. It’s a thing that is dragging you down.
Leave technology behind for a bit. Go away overnight, or even for a day. The objective is to not think about whatever’s been on your mind. Set yourself a task: to go for a walk, watch an eclipse, see how many creatures of the forest you can count. Do something low-tech; leave the rest of your life behind.
If you find that your obsessions drift into your mind, give them a mental nod of acknowledgement and tell them firmly, “Not now.” There is no point in berating yourself for their return. Detoxification doesn’t happen in an hour, and that’s what such things are–toxic waste in your mind.
I’ve found that doing this helps put a little hitch in any up and coming obsession–anything that is looming way too large in my mind. Removing myself from my blog overnight was a move that has left me refreshed and full of ideas. By not thinking about what the next post will be or the next kid-activity or whatever all it is for you, things shift naturally into perspective.
So, the next time you find yourself aiming towards being OCD, chill out. Go camping, go away, or even spend the day in a county park. It will help, I promise.
I had an insomniac night last night. I don’t recommend reading either intelligent non-fiction or exciting fiction at bedtime. I keep forgetting how much my mind gets turned on and it tends to inspire the desire to write, even though the ability to spell is inversely proportional to the number of hours I’ve slept. Ah well, I’m training myself to get up early now because I’ll be starting work at eight in a week’s time.
Anyway, just as I settled down a weird noise woke me up. It sounded a bit like a car engine and, as the sharks are swimming around our mobile home park, I wondered if something were up. I tried to sneak out onto the deck, and my cat tried to sneak out after me. That was exciting. And the door refused to close. Then the automated light came on, illuminating me in my full bath-robed glory. And then the sprinklers came on. We set them up with a motion sensor some years ago to prevent cats from pooping in the square foot garden beds I used to have on the deck.
I still couldn’t figure out the noise.
I gave up on sneaking around, got dressed, and went for a little four-in-the-morning walk.
The noise wasn’t a car; it was something from within one of the mobile homes–quite possibly a thermostat-driven air conditioner. I wandered through the silent park, looking at the empty spaces, breathing the fresh cool air. I love the quality of night air, the silence, the dark. The sky was overcast, speckled with moonlit blotches of cloud.
Then I turned round, satisfied that nobody was about to steal a mobile home, and giggled. I was being followed by the abandoned Siamese, and her buddy, the feral black cat. It was the middle of the night, and I was in a parade.
I picked Speedy up and walked with her to the street, looked down its silent, lamp-lit emptiness and gave her a cuddle, then let her go off on her nocturnal wanderings as I went indoors and so to bed.
Sometimes it’s nice to be up in the middle of the night.
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