Month: September 2009

Saaaaaalaute!

So, there I was today, in bumper to bumper traffic, trying to get to work.

The Bay Bridge is closed this weekend for construction, so the traffic patterns in the Bay Area have gone all wonky.

My usual peaceful, easy commute was jammed up. Fine. A fact of life in a highly populated area.

As you may or may not know, in California, it’s legal for motorcycle riders to “split the lanes”, meaning, they can ride in that space between two cars, side by side in their respective lanes.

It took me quite some time to get used to this, but now, especially in a traffic slowdown, I’m quite alert. As a car driver it’s always best to stay the course when a motorcycle comes whipping down between lanes.

This morning, as I sat, fully stopped, I watched the usual parade of motorcycles split the lanes. A Harley rumbled by. A really sweet BMW bike glided through. A couple of those very speedy Japanese bikes that force the rider to stick his rear up (doesn’t seem right to go a 100mph with your ass higher than you head, but what do I know?).

And then, in my rearview, I saw this patchwork bike come wobbling along, looking like something out of the Road Warrior films.

Apparently mismatched parts had been collected from the junk pile. The thin tires looked better suited to off road than asphalt. The fender didn’t match the bumper. It made a sound like a monkey wrench caught in the spin cycle.

But the rider sat tall in the saddle. He was decked in leathers and fully in command of his vehicle, proudly guiding his bike through Bay Area traffic.

And as he passed by, I noted the New Mexico license plate bolted firmly to the back.

As he rode away, out of sight, I held hand to my heart and quietly hummed “O Fair New Mexico”.

“O Fair New Mexico, we love, we love you so….”

Thank you, New Mexico, for keeping it rasquache, even here in the Bay Area.

Oh so ready for the Labor Day Weekend. Happy and safe one, ya’ll!

"My life is like watching the Three Stooges in Spanish"

A fave quote from the movie Untamed Heart. A now *coff* sixteen year old movie.

Gad.

Ok, so maybe my life isn’t like The Three Stooges in Spanish. Maybe more like The Three Stooges with the sound off.

Lot’s of running and jumping. Quite a few people getting smacked around. Zany faces. Screwball circumstances.

But without the volume, it’s hard to understand why all the commotion.

That’s me. Sometimes I don’t understand why all the commotion.

I think the answer is, simply, “that’s life.”

This week, I watched an episode of “No Reservations.” You know, the show with Anthony Bourdain? It was a rerun from last season, I think.

It was a “lost episode” from when they were filming in Beirut in 2006. There they were, clubbing, eating, sunning, and within the blink of an eye, things went bad. The country became unstable, they were surrounded by gunfire and air strikes. They had a terrible time getting out, eventually, they were rescued by US Marines.

Now that’s a hell of a commotion.

Look, I’m just fighting the forces of corporate confusion, middle age weary-induced crisis, and changing seasons.

You know, I have it pretty good.

Sometimes The Three Stooges in Spanish is a lot of fun. Despite all the commotion.

(That’s me in the center)

Still breaking this thing in

Last month, it was complete happiness and joy to celebrate my one year anniversary! Wow, a whole year.

Both of us marveled at how fast a year could fly by, and had great times remembering our wedding day. Truly, the best day of my life.

Just this week, we finally finished up our wedding albums (yay!) and so it goes, into the life of a married couple.

A few weeks ago, The Good Man had occasion to laugh and point at me (this happens fairly often, actually). He said, “You’re still not used to having someone around all the time, are you?”

Well. No, actually.

I mean. I was single for a long time.

And for a while, even when I was in a couple, we had such different schedules that I found myself with a lot of alone time on my hands. Which was ok.

Don’t misunderstand. I love my husband and miss him with an ache in my chest when he’s not nearby.

But…

Look, we all do things we’re not proud of. And, well, it’s often better to do such things without a witness.

Like, I don’t know, eating a dozen donuts, while still wearing your stained nightgown at 3:00 in the afternoon, sitting on the couch watching re-runs of “The Hills” or “Real Housewives” or something.

Or…

Listening to “The Big 80’s” radio station, indulging in the strains of “Tainted Love” or “Jump for my Love” or “Love is a Battlefield” without *someone* commenting “oh. my. god. Why are you listening to that?”

Or…

Putting a goopy green mask on your face while painting your toenails and plucking your eyebrows without hearing “Agh!”

Or…

Belting out a show tune, for no reason at all.

Or…

Needing to spend some, erm…time, in the one restroom in the house…without some damn boy standing outside the door making farty noises with his mouth. Cuz that’s not funny. And it’s rather embarrassing. But it makes him laugh every time so I can’t be too mad, because he’s adorable when he laughs.

You get my drift.

This marriage thing…it’s like breaking in a new pair of shoes that you *know* will be incredibly comfortable, but you gotta wear through the tight spots first.