winkgirl4's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life.- Albert Camus Will I sound like a complete idiot by telling you just how much I love riding my bike? The weather, first of all, is spectacular. The air has been this cool, last summer breeze in the evenings, while there�s almost a nip outside in the early morning. I find that I have to, literally, force myself to turn around and head home. I could just ride for hours. I ride and I can feel it working my thighs and back. I ride and I turn my MP3 player up full blast and nothing but the wind and the forward movement exists around me- well, that and the less-than-mindful traffic. Oh but when I do get off the bike, I�m breathless, my legs are shaky and I am moist with sweat and the way the warm drops of shower water massage my well-used muscles feel almost as good as sex. I know. It�s unnatural for something so mundane to make me feel this good, by god, does it ever! Yesterday, I met with Justin�s teacher (for our quarterly parent-teacher conference) and I got the usual: I know that he�s getting all A�s but he�s not living up to his potential. He�s doing just enough to get by- luckily that still gets him As but if he would just applied himself�� I�ve heard this before. I�ve been hearing it for years. Unfortunately, I�m finding very little that will compel him to act. He knows that he can day dream for fifteen minutes and then rush through a paper and still get it an A. His lowest mark was in penmanship, �Because,� his teacher says, �he�s just rushing through.� If he just took the time, he�d have beautiful cursive writing. (I don�t know that I would use the word �beautiful.� I have seen his cursive writing after I�ve made him slow down and it�s not that great- but it is leaps and bounds above his script.) I was driving to Ada, yesterday, to take Justin to his father�s for the weekend and there was this unmistakable smell of pine in the air and, naturally, I thought of Christmas. I brushed it from my mind as it seems too close for comfort. At the same time, what a wonderful smell- stimulating, just stimulating. We stopped along the way to fill up with gas (thank you to the powers that be for the .35 cent decrease in fuel prices). Whilst attempting to refuel, a young man pull up along side and began talking to Justin about how tall he was and that, surely, a kid his size must be on a basketball team somewhere and, if not, how he should definitely consider such a thing. Justin, of course, told him how it�s too soon to try out for basketball but that he is thinking about it but would rather play baseball or soccer, after which we went inside to pay. As we were returning to our car, the older gentleman, who was now fueling at the pump where the nice young man had been, greeted us with a, �Beautiful evening, isn�t it? You, two, doing awright?� To which we replied that it was a gorgeous evening, we were hoping there were more like them to come and that we were doing wonderfully.� Buckling up and, now, driving down the road towards greater Ada Justin broke in, �Why is it that people from small towns are nicer than people from big towns?� �Hm,� I replied. �I don�t really know. But it does seem true that small town people were a lot friendlier.� �Yeah, like your friend Bruce (the farmer). He�s probably one of the nicest people we�ve met, don�t you think? And he�s from a small town, isn�t he?� �Yes, he is� (Daisy, Oklahoma, in fact. So small a town that few people even know it exists.) As we drove along and Justin�s attention moved back to deciphering �ancient� codes in his new Dragonology book, I thought to myself how true that statement was and was glad that he liked Bruce so well. Just proves he�s a good judge of character. It�s the most beautiful day out, today. I�ve convinced my boss to let us open the outer doors at either end of our office so that the breeze can blow through. Now, it�s all I can do to sit here and watch this beautiful day unfold outside. This makes me want to go camping. I have this urge to wake up out in the middle of the woods somewhere, dew on the ground, leaves rustling in the wind. This day is just almost too good to be true. I just got off the phone with Andy. It was so good to hear his voice. We talk (via email) on a daily basis but, I think, were we ever to have the opportunity to sit, face to face, and talk, we�d end up having to fall asleep mid-sentence. I hope that he�s had a wonderful weekend; that his less-than-confident first aid skills were never put to use, that he and his father-in-law had a wonderful trip and that Ro took first place in all of her categories. Mostly, though, I hope that the rain in Little Brittan lets up and that his weekend proves as bright and sunshiny as mine appears to be. Oh, I�m rethinking this date, this weekend. I was just thinking that this kind of weather is perfect for falling in love and I�d really hate for this rather nice guy to have an unfair advantage. Maybe I should put it off until the forecast is partly cloudy with a chance of rain. Either way, I�ll let you know how it goes. Right now, my heart is beating ninety to nothing and I just want to run through a field of daisies. And maybe I will. First things first- I have to get these press releases out. Happy Friday, everyone. I wish you could feel even one tenth of what I�m feeling right now. 3:20 p.m. - September 16, 2005 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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