It’s July, and there’s a heat wave, so honestly what I’m seeing on my bike rides this week is my own sweat in my eyeballs. It’s brutal, especially going uphill. I’d still rather ride my bike than bake at the bus stop, waiting for another bus that’s going to get trapped in the traffic nightmare that is a sinkhole at Howard and Pratt and street closures for Artscape. Seriously, a bicycle is always the best way to get around.
The wildest thing has happened, which is that I’m done with active treatment for cancer and I’m already able to do things with my body I kind of feared I wouldn’t be able to do again. The last six months were brutal in so many ways, and also less brutal than I was expecting, but as I emerge on the other side of this round of cancer treatment, I’m getting back to living as I used to live. My sister and I have been talking about those stories of people who survive cancer and then reinvent themselves in amazing ways. We agree those are likely people who didn’t like the lives they had going all that much. Me? I loved the life I was living, and getting parts of it back so quickly is a huge gift. I’ll take that over being a SuperSurvivor any day.
Sunday’s ride took me to the YMCA to meet O. for friend/weightlifting time and then to Charles Village for a sandwich and then to Remington to see what all the fuss is about, because I hear that’s where all the cool kids are moving these days. I zigged and zagged, stopped to pick up this week’s CSA produce (hard squash are back!), and followed Sisson to the end, because the ladyfriend promised if I did that I’d get to see a bus graveyard, and she was pretty sure I’d like it. She was right. Continue reading
The week rounded out with some easy bike rides, Friday over and down to Canton for a late lunch and grading before settling in for some solid people watching before catching a ride home with N., and the a jaunt up to Hampden on Saturday for acupuncture and fries, a most excellent combination. I made a stop in Remington on my way home to pick up this week’s farm share at Mill Valley General Store. I don’t even remember forking over the cash for this–I signed up months ago–so it feels like Christmas every week, walking in there with my bike bag to pick four of whatever I like from the bins filled, this week, with chard, kale, kohlrabi, broccoli, cauliflower, radishes, arugula, garlic scapes, snap peas, and the list goes on. I was limited by what I could fit in my bag, so I grabbed a couple of cauliflower, a bunch of arugula, and a cabbage. The bag was overflowing and I was happy and on my way. My only complaint? Get us a bike rack, please! I snapped this picture from my bike, locked to a sign on Sisson, and while I love the view of traffic and blue sky and warehouse, I’d love to be able to park off the main drag. But if that’s my only Saturday complaint, I’d say I’m getting off easy.
Tuesday’s ride kept me mostly in the neighborhood, down the hill to meet K. for lunch and a good shared rant session, and then back up the hill to Abell to meet R. for some co-catsitting and a conversation about our Very Big Project that we both needed to break down to be a whole lot smaller so as to avoid that familiar “oh shit, it’s due” feeling. In between there I talked on the phone with J. about renting her house in Waverly starting in August. N. and I need a bigger place, and a friend of a friend heard this house would come open then, and you know how it goes. Our renting her house solves a whole bunch of problems for her and for us, so it looks like we’re moving up the hill come August, and I couldn’t be more excited. Continue reading
It rained ice last night, but fortunately in the city it warmed up quickly, and all we had was rain. By the time I got the call I was waiting for the rain was down to sprinkles, making it much more pleasant for the short ride over to where I’d left my car last week to meet the tow truck driver for my final goodbyes to the Hyundai Accent I’ve been driving around occasionally since 2007. I got the car to drive from Oregon to my new gig at Tulane in New Orleans. I cried as P. and I made our way through east Texas and into Shreveport, and I cried all the way until I10 turns to bayou just past Baton Rouge. Don’t leave me here, I cried, scared of the masses of green I was sure were hiding stuff, the inhuman heat, and the giant crickets that caught rides. Continue reading
Oh, I needed today. I woke up late and lazed about in bed with cats, gathering that vacation day vibe. I had a lovely long lunch with R. and O., eating dosa and talking about the layers of history and memory everywhere, the messages sent by trees about where matters and who doesn’t, and arranging our next meetings–why not have a meeting tubing on a river, O. asked? Sometimes you find the right people, and oh, it feels lucky. Afterward it was finally time to take the bike out for a ride. I zipped down the hill, fast as could be, and then up and around and up and down and up again to Fort McHenry. Continue reading