Hi.
On the deck in the sun. Gorgeous day. Hold on … lemme take a picture for you.
See? Shiny and warm.
Hope it’s warm enough to bake away my cold.
We’ll see.
I’m all warmed up to blog.
Playing the Leo Kottke channel on Pandora through my dandy ear buds that I picked up at Wally World for under $5. As pertinent songs play I’ll list them for you by putting [the title/artist] in brackets.
**
Where, oh, where to begin?
OK. We’ll start with this week and work our way back.
Or not.
Or not.
(Hope I don’t slip and tell you the pressure from my job – I love meeting dozens of new people every week and I work for a reputable company – is very likely why I am in my stress-induced malady.)
***
The Hair Thingy
Yes, I live alone. Yes, I get lonely. No, I don’t think of myself as a loner. For the most part, I’d rather be with nice people than be all by myself. So, I try to get out a lot. That’s why I love The Bike. Exhilarating joy rides are only a twist of the wrist away. I get 50 mpg, even blasting through the hills.
I hopped on and held on long enough to arrive at Two Wheels Only in Suches , GA
(Ladies, you never need to be lonely. All ya gotta do is show up at TWO on any weekend. You will be in a guy-rich environment that’s WAY better than Home Depot on a Saturday morning. It’s the perfect place to wear those leather pants you have nowhere to wear. Helpful hint: bring a helmet.)
After I could give-and-take all the tales of scraping foot pegs in the twisties, I ambled up the road to the annual fall festival in Suches. LOTS of people there. Beautiful fall day. Picture perfect.
[Listening to Carroll County Blues
Paid my $5 to roam though the dozens of artists and craftists displaying their wares. Nice stuff. Lingered a bit too long at the establishment of a man who works with leather. Loved the smell and coveted the skill.
[Note to self: Learn how to do it yourself. Soon.]
Reminded me of the time I bought a purse for My Favorite Wife. We both loved it. Almost did it again … but for whom? I ain’t got a whoman.
A robustly burgundy hair thingy caught my eye. Have no idea what they’re called, but you’ve seen them. An oval piece of leather four or five inches long with holes at each of the two long ends. A piece of natural wood, much like a pencil, pierced the holes. Women secure their ponytails in them by folding the leather over their hair and keeping it in place with the pencil-thingys.
[Jesu, Joy of Man’s Desiring by Michael Gulezian]
Bought it. Then another one, a bit larger with flowers against a dark background.
No, I had no donor in mind. But, I don’t think my seven years of womanless/loveless fasting – preceded by too many years of feasting – will endure forever. Thought I might as well get The Next One a present. Might even serve as a glass-slipperish shibboleth. (Say THAT fast five times.)
Popped The Hair Thingys in my saddlebags and forgot about them.
***
A Hair-Thingy Raising Encounter
Attended a chamber of commerce after-hours soiree last week.
Rode my bike.
Hung out with friends. Each of us stalking the Untouchables – moguls of local industry and those we plebeians prey upon with our goods and services.
Open bar.
Never drink at these functions, company rules, but I don’t object.
Free BBQ, wangs, home-made sausage and treats.
[Down in the Swamp; Bela Fleck]
Now, I don’t borrow money from friends, date co-workers or hit on fellow chamberees. Good for business and life, I think. Better to “only” be friends.
Popped my jacket and helmet in a corner by the couple catering the bash. Nice folks. The guy looked a bit like me: oldish, facial hair, a tad rotund; seemed nice.
His counterpart was an attractive lady.
No clue how old she is/was; I am inept at guessing anyone's age.
Pleasant countenance.
Too bad she was a cute blonde.
(I keep promising myself “No more blondes.")
Found myself glancing her way several times.
Finally figured out why.
Made my way to the bike and back.
Went over to some friends who were standing by The BBQ Blonde (BBQB). Excused myself and introduced myself.
[How fitting: The Wildest Hog in Captivity by John Renbourn.]
Casually looked at BBQB’s partner and said, “This must be your husband.”
They both burst into laughter!
BBQB hugged the man and put her head on his shoulder.
“This is my dad!”
He seemed a bit less pleased than everyone else.
Evidently, I was already in the advanced stages of my second mistake.
Tried to assuage my faux pas by mentioning how Esther and I went for a bike ride recently and I wondered how many people thought we were dates/spouses.
With one foot firmly stuck in my mouth, I opened a bit wider and said
…
hmmm
wonder what it was I said?
drivel, no doubt
probably made ZERO sense
just muttered something about:
living alone, not dating much, not looking much
being sixty years old and
how I worry less about “convention” all the time
how I saw that she had a little butterfly-ish clip in her hair
how it reminded me of something
how I rode The Bike into the mtns
and rode away with a couple of nuggets mined at an art show
and
WITH EVERYONE STARING AT ME NOW
I asked if she would like a gift I bought
not for her … but for her.
If you catch my drift. (Like that's ever gonna happen.)
With impeccable timing, a chamberette blurted out:
“He’s OK. He’s with us!”
Which, I hope, calmed the heart/mind of BBQB
as much as it did mine.
**
Spent thousands of hours on the radio.
Spoke/preached hundreds of times for groups large and small.
Flew to Chicago years ago to portray myself in a live-to-tape radio dramatization of my life, with professional actors in other roles, which was broadcast nationwide. (Don't ask.)
Had roles in high school/community theatre.
Totally at ease making “cold calls” in person and on the phone for work.
[Pretty Girl Milking a Cow; Ken Bonfield]
Melted down.
Like Charlie Brown and the Red Haired Girl.
Don’t remember being so tongue-tied.
In public.
From what was supposed to be a simple hit-and-run act of random kindness.
Didn’t get her number.
That wasn’t the point.
Forgot her name. Not that I wanted to.
She said she liked The Hair Thingy.
I hope she wears it
and believes there are nice men
ever-so bumbly
who can give a gift to a stranger
expecting nothing in return.
Just because.
**
Considering anonymously leaving the other hair thingy on a park bench somewhere and running/waddling away.
***
Why Not Me?
Met a lady through work.
Lovely brown hair.
She had that look-you-straight-in-the-eye confidence I revere in people.
Pleasant. Not too reserved; not too gregarious. Kinda just right.
[But On the Other Hand, Baby; Etta Baker]
Learned she’s been married for 17 years.
No eye-rolling or husband-dissing. No fluff.
Simply been victorious for 17 years.
Wondered “why not me?”
One more thing to tell you.
This lady is …
no idea how to express this
at all
quite
palsied
twisted
crippled up on the outside
evidently not on the inside
wonder how many people never get to hear
about her marriage
because they are put off
by what they see?
This lady has what so many others want.
**
Didn’t delve.
But I hope she is loved
cherished
desired
and appreciated
for many years to come.
[Midsummer’s Daydream; Triumph]
I hope that those of us who feel unlovable due to one imperfection or another will think of her and promptly brush away the lies.
***
Reminds me of something I saw on TV:
***
Another
Know a guy who’s had the same job for 15 years.
Seems to always be at work.
Applies himself. Friendly. Helpful.
Never any “not my department” crap.
Works like someone’s watching, y’know?
Nice guy.
A man with common sense (an oxymoron of the highest order).
Admirable.
He’s learned to master walking with the crutches that are almost as tall as he is.
**
Do me a favor, please.
I don’t ask much of you or anyone.
(Except Don, my closer-than-a-brother friend.)
Seriously.
Do you remember the last time I asked you for anything?
Yes, I asked a friend for concert tickets for another friend, but when I didn’t hear back, I dropped it.
I don’t make demands of you.
NOW will you do me that favor, please?
**
Do your very best
to TRY to believe that I mean
NO disrespect
insult
or anything of the sort
when I tell you
...
this kind gentleman
is disfigured.
Not ugly.
He just got stuck with a skronked body.
In our generation, I fear/believe, he would be the ideal candidate for an abortion.
I fear/believe parents wipe out unborn kids because they might have bodies like my friend's.
And the world is NOT a better place without more men such as The Worker.
Would I want to trade places with him? No.
Would I want you to? No.
Do I think any of us would be better off dead? No.
That’s my point.
I know people who have millions of dollars whose lives won’t ever have the same impact on me as The Worker.
God bless him.
May God bless the parents who don’t eradicate imperfect children.
May God forgive those who do.
***
30 Weeks and 30 Miles
[Calum Sgaire; Tony McManus with Alasdair Fraser]
I do not suffer well.
Hate to be sick.
My beloved mother was chronically ill for most of her final decades.
I try to stay healthy, in between bowls of Cheetos.
Got a free flu shot at work.
No panacea against the common cold, evidently.
So be it.
I am well.
Had many healing calls/IMs/e-mails and FB comments/msgs from friends today.
***
Two issues dominate my thoughts.
Bob Allen, on his way to the funeral service for his mother.
So glad God has given Bob a loving wife who is faithful to him in so many ways. Bob also has talented and wise kids who are uniquer than most.
That whole “motherless child” thing?
It’s true.
May God bless Bob as he deals with his loss.
**
I hate to feel sorry for myself, but it’s hitting me today.
I have looked forward to Right to Hike’s “Ella’s Run” 5k and festival for months. Julia and The Gang have captured my heart and I love them deeply. Love being with them – even though I often feel inadequate when I compare myself with them. (Sorry.) They’re some of the warmest, smartest, most dedicated, fun and adorable people I have ever met.
Beyond loyal.
Protective of one another.
Caring.
A family I long to be part of.
Then I got this *$#)$ cold and missed seeing them.
aaarrrrggghhhhh
I’ve looked forward to this day for so long.
Requested the day off from work months ago.
Told my brother I couldn’t care for Dad this wknd.
Skipped a police-escorted charity bike ride.
Bought a new shirt.
Got a haircut. (I hate haircuts.)
Volunteered to pitch in.
Got sick.
Knew I wouldn’t be mature/caring enough not to hug/shake hands with everybody. Didn’t wanna make anybody sick – especially Alison and Kevin, who are getting married very soon.
Stayed home.
Didn't drive the 30 miles to see my loved ones.
On a most excellent autumn day.
double-dang
(Please forgive my harsh language.)
Allow me to act all mature and healthy for a minute, OK?
Please pretend I mean it when I say, “It’s alright,” even though I don’t mean it at all.
Thanks.
***
Adios/Adieu
Not looking forward to my six-day workweek, but thankful I have a job.
It’s Esther’s 29th birthday on Wednesday.
Hope I get to see her.
When I’m germ-free.
[In Christ, There is No East or West; John Fahey]
She’s wonderful.
Maybe I’ll tell you more about her on her birthday.
Blessings,
Robt
