Posts Tagged ‘Buddy Scooter’

One Shot

October 20, 2015

It doesn’t happen very often.

And.

When it does.

It happens on the way home from work rather than on the way to work.

Every once in a while I make it the 6.5 miles from work to home without having to put my foot down on the pavement.

It is the most delicious and delirious thing and I realized as I was crossing Divisadero on Oak that I might actually have a unicorn of a ride happening.

I made the timed lights, I picked up my speed, I felt my left knee complain, I said, come on baby, we got this, and zoom zip, through the light and rolling down the Pan Handle and it’s all, almost, but not quite, downhill from there.

I have made it once to work from my house, 46th Avenue and Judah to Lexington and 20th, on my bicycle without putting down a foot.

It was a reckless ride and not something that I need to experience again.

I just wanted to see if I could do it, and I could, but it meant running lights, stop signs, riding down Lincoln all the way to the Wiggle and a lot of clever maneuverings on my bicycle that weren’t the safest.

I am really safe on my bicycle.

Some folks are nuts.

I want to live.

I have so much to live for.

Just the level of contentment I have for my little home right now, it knows no bounds.

I got the cutest message from a woman in my cohort about a photo I had put up on Instagram with my little nook in the corner of my studio that has a chaise lounge and a “new” reading lamp, that it looked like just the place to curl up and read all of Professor Dubitzky’s reading in.

Of course she didn’t say Professor Dubitzky.

Ha.

She said, “Milly D.”

Our inside, though, I am sure the professor does know and winks at it, name for the teacher.

What I love is that the class is all Freudian analysis and yes, that’s right, my corner seat is a chaise lounge.

The doctor is in.

Er.

The graduate school student is in.

I have started writing “I am a therapist” in my morning pages where I write my affirmations.

It follows right after the one that says, “I am an artist.”

And I added another today.

“I own a brand new Buddy Scooter.”

Yes.

I am back in the market.

I talked a lot about it with a friend of mine who is really good with money and negotiating and asked if he would help me go down to Scooter Centre and get a good deal on the scooter.

It does not look like they have the Buddy I want, I want the Buddy Italia in Avocado, in the shop.   Although, I bet they could get it in if they don’t have it in stock.

It’s a 170cc, goes up to 60 mph and gets 92 miles per gallon.

It also has a two-year parts and labor warranty which includes road side assistance.

It’s about $3200.

I could go buy it right now.

But.

That would mean using my prudent reserve and my student loan disbursement up.

I would feel uncomfortable not having a prudent reserve and I don’t like that feeling where there is nothing in the savings account.

So.

I talked to my friend tonight and told him about how I have been setting aside money and also that I expect I will get a bonus at work on my birthday again, which is a week before Christmas, so it was basically a holiday bonus, but whatever, I don’t have to label it anything other than a gift.

A gift that I am banking on using to buy the scooter.

In conjunction with the money I have been setting aside.

The plan, God is laughing, I hear you, my thought, is that I will go down on December 19th, which is the day after my birthday and hand my friend my money, I figure, go to the bank, withdraw the cash and walk in with cash and get a better deal, and let him do the negotiating.

Which means in 60 days I’ll have a new scooter!

This is the plan.

Who knows if it will happen, but that’s the thought process so far.

I won’t get burned buying a used “Vespa” again, although I wouldn’t mind a Vespa, new, they are a bit more expensive then the Buddy and I would have to wait a bit longer to save up the money, probably at least another six months.

I don’t want to wait that much longer.

My knees be aching again and maybe, yes, maybe, it’s time to stop commuting 15 miles a day on the thing.

It’s been 10 years of riding a bicycle in this city.

I would miss it.

And.

I would miss the exercise.

But.

I can do different things.

I can learn to surf, I got a wet suit.

I can scooter to a pool.

I can go to yoga.

The time that I would save from riding my bicycle would not be a great deal, but it would be significant enough that I think I would be able to take a yoga class or go swimming at a pool on the way to work.

Who knows.

I am not going to worry about the exercise part, it’s important to my life and I need it to keep the crazy brain at bay.

I thought all these things when I was riding through the park, the cool breath of October flowing over my body, ruffling my hair, there is nothing quite as sexy, to me, I don’t know that any one else who’s ever experienced it (not that I have asked), but, there is something so sensual about getting off my bike when I get home and after I lock up the garage I go inside my cozy, sweet studio, and sweep the hair up off my neck and it’s cold.

Cold.

From the wind and the air.

It is such a delicious feeling to lift the cool hair off my neck and swirl it up into a bun.

I shiver thinking about it.

I would miss that.

But then again.

I won’t miss the painful knees.

I did make sure to get to work early and do a lot of stretching, it’s the IT band in my knees that is too tight and I can do some things to strengthen the muscles around my hips, that’s why I was contemplating yoga a little while ago–although, really, in what time?  The stretching helps, but sometimes I think, maybe, just maybe, 10 years is a good run for bicycle commuting in San Francisco.

A decade of riding these mean streets.

I have seen a lot of change.

And more than one lost tourist with the Blazing Saddle logo on their bike stopped at Oak and Stanyan trying to figure out where they are on the map and where the hell the bike path goes and where is the fucking ocean anyway?  And the bridge, how do we get to the bridge?

I have even ridden folks through the Pan Handle and around the Wiggle to get them to go where they are going, I did that not too long ago, I was stopped, asked for directions and I noticed the glazed look coming over the woman’s face when I told her where to go and what streets to take, and just took pity.

“Follow me, just follow me for the next ten minutes, and I will get you to Market, at which point I will cross the intersection and you will turn left and be able to follow Market Street where you need to go.”

Just here to be of service.

I don’t have to think about it too much.

But it is exciting.

I like the idea of change and my life getting bigger and fuller and lovelier.

Not that more is needed.

I have everything I need.

And more than I ever expected to have.

So.

Much.

More.

So.

Much.

Love.

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Done And Done

October 19, 2015

And done.

But.

Not done in.

So thankful to have had this day of working on all that is love and home and work and homework and heart work and everything that life entails and encapsulates.

I had a full day.

One that I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to go off.

I insisted on letting myself sleep in an hour longer than I normally would.

Well.

I don’t know if insist is the right word, it felt almost like work, just lie here and let yourself go back to sleep.

The machine in my brain wanted me up and about and get on it girl, there are things to do, people to meet with, breakfast to cook, writing to be done, you have papers to write and so much reading, do you have any idea how much reading you have to do?

Not as much as I did this morning, but I get a head of myself.

I was able to combat the thoughts by acknowledging them and saying, might have been mumbled into my pillow as I turned over in my bed, my delicious, delightful, pinch me I’m so happy I get to sleep on it, bed, “thanks for sharing,” and go back to sleep.

It worked for a little while, I got another 45 minutes in.

Of course the next time I woke up, I was up and going.

And really.

I haven’t stopped since.

Although there have been reprieves and moments of down time today, moments when I look about me with such gratitude that I am overcome by what I have and the abundance, nay, the super abundance, of love in my life.

I have been all around the world and I have this home that has become such a home to me that I am in literal awe of what I have.

There is art and beauty everywhere.

The last piece finally coming together as a friend came over this morning to help me hang the Diebenkorn he gave me months ago.

When I look at that piece, the way it sings on the wall, the heralding of love, the colors replete and yes, matching, complimenting, extending around my room, I am reminded in subtle, and not so subtle ways, of the journey of the last few months.

Had someone said, you are going to cry this much, and feel this much pain, and yes, laugh this much, so much that you think you might pee your pants or vomit out sushi, or good forbid snort (all of which have happened in one degree or another) or that I might feel so much joy that I felt I was to burst, that I was going to see so much art, have access to it, get to bring it home and make my home even more my home, well, I would not have believed it.

Which is funny.

Since I have big feelings and the above sentence does not seem at all irrational to me when I re-read it.

Of course I changed.

My home becoming my unexpected crucible and I am replete with happiness, content in a way that I had not thought possible, though knew, really knew, was out there for me.

I have everything I need.

I have so much that I want, that the wanting is almost supplemental.

But I will tell you a secret.

Shhhh.

I am thinking again about a scooter.

I have been saving.

And I have not touched the financial aid disbursement that I have received for school.

I have gotten help, I won’t say that I haven’t, I have been gifted generously and taken care of and that has allowed me to throw a little more in my savings than I typically do.

I am feeling it out again, the scooter topic, as my knees also bugged me a bunch today and over the last week.

They buckled a little trying to help lift my bed out-of-the-way to hang the Diebenkorn and I found myself bursting into tears.

Although I valiantly tried to hide them, my friend looked at me in alarm and told me to sit down.

I was humbled.

My body, a token of constant humility.

I can dress her up, but sometimes I can’t get her to walk from here to there.

Anyway.

The scooter has been on my mind again and part of that, I won’t lie, is for efficiency as well.

How much more reading could I get in if I weren’t riding my bike to and from work and school?

What places I would be able to go to, doing the deal especially can be hard some days and I feel that a mode of transportation at night that is faster than my bicycle will be helpful.

I am hoping the little Buddy Italia in cream and avocado is still at Scooter Centre.

If it’s not.

It wasn’t meant to be.

If it is.

Heh.

Maybe I can get a better price on it than the one he offered me when I looked at it a few months ago.

Plus.

I am expecting a bonus at the holidays.

If I can hold off on spending the loan money and get a nice bonus, I maybe riding a scooter into the new year.

This is all speculation and pulls me away from the moment and the further acknowledgement that I need to give, to myself, really, I just want to acknowledge how much work I put into those sonnets–the ones from last nights blog.

I sent them off just before logging on here to write my blog.

I went through them three more times today and edited them, read them out loud, tightened them up, and then sat and dreamed on them while I wrote my Psychoanalytic Paper on Freud’s theories of Mourning and Melancholia.

Ayup.

And I used them in my paper.

Which was fantastic and outside the box and I was hesitant, but my friend said go for it, and when I consider how much work I did on them it didn’t feel like I was cheating to include them in my paper.  If anything, it felt like an acknowledgement to the professor of how much the Freudian work actually found its way into the sonnets as I was writing them against the back drop of analysis and dreamscapes.

I re-titled the work, tightened it up, and sent it out.

The collaborator poet has officially sent her poems out into the world for the photographer artist to use.

Part of me hopes he likes it.

The majority of me doesn’t give a flying rat’s ass.

I did a damn good job.

I love them.

They brought me joy.

I spent a lot more time with them then I thought I would, but I received so much in return, including a lot of insight that I extrapolated later in my paper when I wrote it.

That was my day: poetry, reading, writing, repeat.

Take small breaks, meet with ladybug, cook food for the week, do laundry, go with friends over the bridge to do the deal in Mill Valley, hang out, catch up with folks, then come home and finish all my Freud reading for class on Friday.

Thank God.

It’s done.

Oh.

Hahaha.

Don’t worry, I still have reading to do before Friday, but I don’t have any more papers due.

A reprieve.

I’m done for now.

Just now.

And with that.

Time to put up my feet.

Curl up in my bed.

Sip a cup of tea and look in astonishment at the prosperity and abundance in my life.

I am a very lucky girl.

I am.

So.

Very.

Very.

Lucky.


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