Skip to main content

My bicycle has a mind

“On the road again…I just can’t wait to get on the road again…”

Cold, wet winter months are not my fave!  You see, I get stuck in the garage until spring’s sunny skies.  Mind you, I am thankful that I’m not out in the muck; after all I’m pretty cute.

I have graceful citrus-yellow curves with just-shy-of-neon green wheels and, naturally, jaunty tulips tatted on my sides – I just scream, “Cruise me down to the coffee shop!”  I must have garage-fever right now, being cooped up doesn’t really suit my playfulness.

Oh, I remember tripping along the bumpy path with my trusty passenger pedaling away at a lighthearted pace.  She chatted freely with her beau, sigh…those were the days.  I think she feels it too; wandering out and looking wistfully at me, recalling blue skies, trilling birds and rides to the park.

Was this all a lovely, surreal dream or did it actually occur in the distant sun-drenched past?  Only the marching on of the seasons will reveal reality.

“Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy…”

This little spoof echoes what many of us are feeling as winter lingers, just slightly confined to the garage.  My question is does it affect only your outdoor activities or are you restricted in your mind?

As I am writing this blog, I find that I am somewhat blocked; thoughts are just not flowing as freely as I prefer.  It’s almost as if the pipes in my brain are frozen, or at least slushy.  How do we pump verve back into the frosted tundra of our hibernating winter selves?

Talking with my bicycle ~ Missy

If you have been mildly amused, challenged or inspired by what you have read, please pass on my blog to a friend, colleague, family member or even random acquaintance.


Popular posts from this blog

lonely has no boundaries

She came into the shop to purchase barbecue sauce, usually 3 to 4 bottles at a time. Her eyes were clear blue, and she had a ready smile that was mixed with quietness and melancholy.
I remember one particular day she came in with eyes red around the edges. I asked if everything was ok. She looked at me with her clear blue eyes and said, "Yes, but there are days you just need to cry." I agreed then, and I agree now.

Today is one of those melancholy days; not a need-to-cry day, but one that's on the side of sad and contemplative. So, it seems appropriate to share this post that's been sitting as a draft for weeks.

People are lonely, desperately crying to be noticed.
I've been lonely. I've had conversations with people who are lonely. The unfortunate thing is, it's not the outcast, recluse living in the hoarder house down the street. It's the chipper girl at the coffee shop who only wants another couple for her and her boyfriend to hang with. I think to m…

a tale from foxtail

fox glides, low to the ground                       sly, inquisitive, resourceful creatures solitary, bronzed and ruddy with flashing eyes        bushy tail dipped in white  forest home or urban domain                                      fox, a nocturnal pilgrim
Summer has afforded me an opportunity to move about aimlessly; not quite a coddiwomple, but sort of. This week, I found myself writing and sipping iced chai at Foxtail Bakery. Let's just say the cookies were perfect and divine; I was completely tempted to purchase more pastries than I should. 

There's a tall counter with white-backed stools and a big garage door to let in light and fresh air. Picture windows face the street. Cars buzz by. Black and white striped umbrellas twirl like the tutu of a ballerina.

Assorted tables and chairs in turquoise and orange fill the space, along with a low-slung wooden table and bistro chairs. Some new-school rattan is thrown in for good measure. It's comfortable and alive.

A larger-tha…

leaving las vegas

Leaving Las Vegas, a line made famous in movies, song lyrics and billboard slogans. For me, it’s more than a catch-phrase. It pierces my heart, now more than ever.

You see, previously, people were there drawing me back, but as pages are torn from the book entitled “Life,” I’m more aware of how fleeting and transient things are. Change is a given.
My heart feels - each word expressed - come back, don’t be a stranger. I know they’re wondering if they’re losing all contact with the family of ones deeply loved. I wonder, too. And while I also know that’s how things happen, I don’t have to like it.

So, I stare out the window of the plane, the sun bringing light and heat to the day in shades of pink and pale orange which burst against the blue sky. My thoughts are pensive, questioning, seeing only the rugged ranges with striations of soil and color veining them. As the plane climbs we soar above the clouds stacked on each other like mounds of whipped sweet cream. Contemplation is as thick as…