I’m A Pussy


To a point.

Once I’m moving, the cold doesn’t bother me too much.

Although my fingers feel like they are still defrosting.

It was a chilly, chill, chill ride home tonight on my bicycle.

And I argue that the weather here though temperature wise is warmer than say, Wisconsin, or Alaska, it’s still nippy out there and uncomfortable.

Yet.

There were moments in the park, in the dark, the wind whistling through my hair, the sound of my bicycle a fast low whip of feet churning and the slip of wind wicking through the spokes of the front wheel, that I felt so free and light that the cold was no more nuisance than a falling leaf.

There was more than one falling leaf however.

There were blown down limbs, palm fronds, acorns, seed pods, walnuts, scattered detritus that threatened to derail my wheel and send me flying over the handle bars.

There was just enough light in the park to avoid the majority of the windfall, but it was a winding road I rode.

It reminded me of the path, the journey, the way forward that I walk.

I realized that though there are times when I am literally the only person on a part of the path, some intrepid wanderer has gone before me.

I am not special.

I am not unique.

The most popular thing?

Yeah.

I will probably like it.

Although I have my tastes and foibles, they are often such to alienate me from the pack and isolate me, make me feel special, unique, mysterious, or some such other crap that is generated in my brain to pander to my super special ego self.

I am no trailblazer.

This is the thought that came unbidden to my mind as the wind grew woolier and the trees creaked in the sluice of air.

I suddenly had a feeling of what the woods were like, here, at the end of the wilds before the sea, the trees, the dark smell of earth and salt, the special light of moon playing over the meadows, an eery blue-white that velvet like drapes itself across every blade of grass and edge of leaf.

There was the road I was biking upon.

And there was the path, winding through the fallen leaves, sticks, boughs, branches, and various other road blocks, it was not wide, but it was there.

I was not the first bicycle through the park in the messy weather, and I  probably wouldn’t be the last this evening.

I would bet, though, that I may be one of the last folks heading all the way through the park to the wilds of the Outer Sunset at 9p.m. on a Tuesday night.

A night I had previous to today, thought was going to be my Friday.

I was under the impression that I had tomorrow and Thursday off for the holiday, and without realizing it, I had also assumed  I would have off Friday, like I did with the day after Christmas.

Not that I am being some sort of hound for extra paid holiday days, but you know, I like to know when I am working and I also wanted to co-ordinate with my guy, who was also under the impression that I would have a long weekend.

However, I was wrong.

Not impossibly wrong, but just slightly off, I will have Thursday and Friday off.

Not tomorrow.

So, off to work I go.

But with a four-day weekend in sight, I am happy to do so.

I don’t mind working tomorrow, I had a long weekend last week, and I still am going to get four days off in a row.

Plus, I have a date for tomorrow night and a destination!

I am going with my guy to Petaluma, to the Mystic Theater to see Tommy Castro.

I’m going to get some blues music on, some rock and roll, with a splash of rockabilly and I am psyched.

I get to dress up.

I get to go out with my guy and have a new experience.

I get to dance!

I don’t know swing, I don’t know two-step, all that well, maybe a tiny bit, I don’t really know anything formal, but I know how to rock out and I know how to shimmy and shake to a good blues line and I know how to kick up my heels.

My heels shall kick tomorrow night.

I’ll work until 6:30 p.m.

Hop on my bicycle, hopefully all the windfall will have been cleared up, and I will put on my swing dress with polka dots and put some fishnets on, red roses in my hair, re-apply my lipstick and head out-of-town.

We’re going to grab a bite somewhere on the road, which is fine with me, I don’t need to do anything fancy, I’ve had plenty of fancy for a while, then get to the show and hang out with my baby.

It’s nice to have plans.

It was nice to get the surprise text from my boyfriend about the show.

I didn’t know what we were going to be doing, aside from a possible party within our fellowship of friends, nothing really seemed on the menu.

And now I got a date to dance.

Pleased as punch.

And though I have sat and warmed myself up and had some tea and I am loath to wander out into that cold night, current temperature 50 degrees, I am off to Celia’s by the Beach to have a late night dinner with my honey.

Well, he’ll eat, and I will watch.

Discuss details and make our plans for tomorrow.

And do what all humans want to do when they are cold.

Snuggle into the arms of someone who cherishes them.

Nothing new to see here.

 

 

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