Memoirous

So if this blog is a diary of sorts, a way for me to talk about my life and as well as memories, then let me report: Everyone wants a bike. When I wake up before work, I’m lately feeling a weight, anxious. I know once I get to work it is going to be chaos, a build up to frantic demand. We could have several customers lined up at the register and many more out on the floor all needing time and attention toward their decision to purchase—you name it: lights, a lock, a helmet, a bicycle. It is up to us, me, to show them how an item works, answer questions, and work with them on fit and size. It’s amazing how little or how much a person may know. For some a bike is that thing with wheels, so to talk about tire size or the number of gears is getting way too technical. For some they have read every review and know way more than me. All of this can be intimidating for me. I’m expected to be the expert—and I do a terrible job of masquerading. All I really want to convey to them that it i

I took the long way home after work and rode through the park, over the long plank bridge that spans the marsh, and through the neighborhood bordering our own. At every corner was a lush landscape, some new tree in leaf and some new scent I detected. The change is sudden and every bit welcomed. It feels a long time coming. In April we had a week where we were teased and then returned to droopy, cold, rainy mornings followed by the same in the afternoon. On my days off it was worse—with wind. I haven’t been able to plan a long bike ride because of the weather and the need to get things done when there is a bit of sunshine. Now that we are beginning to dry out and the sun is out—I’m amazed still at how many times I change clothes. In the morning it is cold enough to turn on the heat. I roll out of bed and don a heavy corduroy shirt and wrap up in a blanket to drink my tea. I’ll then change and go for a run. Whereupon, getting back, I’ll change again for work. After work, I’ll walk

Whereupon, I accidentally leave my phone at work and have little to no contact with the outside world, still deciding if this was a good or bad thing. Whereupon after getting home from work and trying to settle in for a weekend, or at least a Sunday where I’m not working at the shop, we immediately at my daughter’s house cut into a bakery cake and discover she is having a boy. Yes, two sons. Whereupon, we cry. You see, we’d secretly been planning on a girl, knowing full-well the chances were 50/50. Even so, one can’t help wishing. Now that we have the fact before us, we embrace the news. Whereupon, we decide we need to eat not just cake and order in a meal . . . to celebrate. Nevertheless, my blood sugar feels off the chart. I either need a nap or take a walk. I do both. Whereupon, we wake up the next morning to Mother’s Day festivities of cards, brunch, coffee on the deck, more talk about what the household may look like with two kids, both boys. Whereupon, we get in the car

I’ve had a recent spate of new work accepted—check out these journals and read: Civil War Reenactment= https://louisville.edu/miraclemonocle Unobserved= (around page 13) https://www.mockingowlroost.com/blog/unknown-and-unseen-triannual/ “Peeper Pond” forthcoming Spring 2023, Instant Noodles Forthcoming a creative nonfiction piece at Amsterdam Quarterly Spring is springing! Keep checking back for more news.