If you are not living on the edge, you are taking up too much room.
I have pushed myself closer to the edge by picking up the phone and scheduling my Harley motorcycle training class. When asked by the Harley employee, what experience do you have with motorcycles? I giddily proclaimed, ABSOLUTELY NONE. I must admit this took daring action on my part, because there is no turning back. Should I cancel, I wouldn’t get my money refunded; instead, it would be returned only as a gift card to purchase merchandise. Ones who know me know I can be a bit of a tightwad; however, as the saying goes, a fool and his money are soon parted. So, there goes I. My mind has been diverted from worsted weight cotton blend yarn to throttle, clutch and gearshift levers. There is much to absorb from my basic rider course handbook that was mailed to me. Before I ease my fanny onto the seat of the machine, I must acquaint myself with risk awareness, acceptance, and management, the preparation to riding, and street strategies. I know when I reach the point when I’ll turn the fuel supply valve on, turn the ignition switch to the on position, shift transmission to neutral, and press the starter button, (I’ve been assured it’s an electric starter.) I will be pushing past* my boundaries. I will not just be talking the talk; I’ll be walking the walk.
Addendum: no, no, no, no, no, not past (it sounds as if I’m h-e-double toothpicks bent on self destruction)… but rather expand my boundaries. 🙂
The flower has opened, has been in the sun and is unafraid. I’m taking more chances; I’m bold and proud.
There was a brief respite from the wind this morning, and I thought of my flowers. I didn’t bother to check them yesterday, figuring the elements had destroyed my efforts. I was proven wrong and was chuffed to find the choir of blazing, bright beauties, standing strong. Pleased and feeling positive, I went with my husband to the Harley shop. I haven’t taken my training class; well, actually, I haven’t even called to schedule. However, in my pursuit of fact finding, I am signed up for a ladies gathering in a couple of weeks. It’s good to do as much homework as possible before venturing forth in this daring pastime. But, what really got my attention are door prizes that will be provided. I’m not that lucky, but I did win a skirt and sweater attending a fashion show in 10th grade. I’m just hoping that the shop’s owner doesn’t consider “decals” as top prizes. Anyway, back to the shop, (I digress.) I’m now in possession of a pair of biker gloves, which are not only needed for driving but mandatory for the training class, and a gorgeous leather, fitted jacket, marked down on a sales rack. Never in my entire lifetime, up to now, would I have thought I would don a jacket with Harley Davidson across my bosom. I’ve got the fever.
Listen, are you breathing just a little and calling it a life?”
Lately, the winds have been hellaciously brutal. One evening there was a low rumble while the base of the house shook. Aeolus had to have been sparring with his co-horts, for sure. This afternoon while standing at the pump near the horses’ water tank, a gust threw me off guard and into the fence. I’m not a weakling for my tender kuusikymmenta 😉 years, but it was a rude awakening. I am about to step outside my comfort zone and learn to ride a Harley. If I can’t keep my feet on the ground with a six foot water hose in hand, how am I going to brace against the wind while grasping the ape hangers on my hog and cruising down the open highway? Something to ponder. At any rate, nothing will deter me from my quest for this gritty Americana lifestyle. Today, baby steps, tomorrow, Sturgis.
The above photo is four generations of girls. The young woman sitting in the chair is my grandmother, who was born in 1881, and the other three, my daughter, my mother, and myself as young girls (born in the 20th century, of course). Thanks to modern technology and the intermingling of pixels, all four of us can reunite on a digital canvas. Ah, I feel a memory quilt coming on.
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
What delight to see the slight tinge of petal pink! I had such doubt when I planted the bulbs on that gray autumn day with brisk winds slapping the back of my neck. I feel as if the little tulip is asking is it safe to come out now? Such are the simple pleasures in life!