B is for Bucolic Bike ride.

[C, N & M went to pick up K & J. S is asleep, battling a stomach bug.]

I love to ride my bike. I ride it in my head if I'm not actually on it. My legs are going, "UpUpUpUp."

Sunday C and I rode for about 8 miles. It was so fun -- it is tricky to ride with him though. Don't know why. He is always trying to teach me something and although I DO need to learn a lot more about cadence, my cadence, and strength in general, his lectures drag.

What I need to do is pull out my labeler and note what goes which way & does what. Inevitably I shove the wrong thing at the wrong time and it feels as if I have hit wall. NG. [not good] I am getting more comfortable on my bike, but I learn best when I SEE the message a few times and then I get it. It might also help if I built a bike or two--I don't get the gears, big/small = hard? small/big = easy? Low? High? Yes, I actually know a rocket scientist, mais, il n'est pas moi.

Tonight I rode to OCJH (2 miles w/ a steep but short hill) for the open house (K is in 9th grade!) and then onto deliver an invite to J's party on Saturday, further up a hill. That meant that I could ride down a long fun ways.

Came home, via the tunnel, circled about once in the road before riding on my driveway, rode over the grass and parked my bike in its spot in the garage! -- The garage that I Landed today.

Then, refreshed, in nice clothes, I put on an apron and messed with clay for a long while. Thinking: IF I WERE TO HAVE ART, & NOT CLEVER CRAP, IN MY HOUSE WHAT WOULD IT LOOK LIKE? WHAT IS OF VALUE? What has meaning & is of use visually? What could I make 3 times and still find fascinating? What is my personal graffiti? Is there life after wind chimes and fridge magnets?

Cleaned up the table and came inside, with clay covered hands and still in the apron.

Happiness.