Today I sold the motorcycle and I feel both sadness and excitement. Sad to see my first "real" bike go, but excited because it is helping fund my Appalachian Trail hike. Getting on that bike for a ride never failed to lift my mood, bring me fully present to the now (for there is no other way to ride, in my book), and bring me happiness. I had once promised a partner that I would never get a bike. When that relationship ended, I decided it was time to explore my authentic interest in motorcycling, so I saved for the cost of the motorcycle safety course as a birthday gift to myself. My Christmas gift was this machine, bought from a trusted friend.
In just over two years, I put a thoroughly enjoyable 4400 miles on it, along with a few comfort and convenience accessories. I made a couple of my own repairs, learned how to jumpstart a bike, had a few scary moments on the roads, but always felt it was one of the best things I ever did for myself. I've known for awhile that hiking the AT would mean selling the savage, because I needed the proceeds to help fund the trip, and it would be wholly impractical and not good for the bike for it to sit for up to six months. Possessions pass into and out of our lives, and are easily replaced. Without a doubt, as long as I am physically able, I know I will be a motorcycle rider. I'm keeping the riding gear, because I'm sure one of these days, at least one of my long distance trips will be by motorcycle. Riding a motorcycle is the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground, and I know I want to get another one when I return from my hike. Until then, it was money and time well spent.
I am grateful to have honored the inner voice that said I was born to ride, and grateful that this interest is enabling me to pursue other ventures. Some people really do have some internal thing going on that says "I must ride a motorcycle." You can tell it because they're the ones that always notice other motorcycles on the road, that can't help but look in the direction of the approaching exhaust rumble or engine whine, drawn by some unknowable force to the call of two-wheeled transportation. I will always be glad I answered the call. And I'm already thinking about my next bike.
The recent recall of peanut butter and "foodlike" products containing peanut "paste," led me to the information that a product I once enjoyed, and thought to be from a small, independent producer, Larabar, was actually owned by General Mills. During the time that I gave up sugar, the Larabar was a godsend. Something that actually tasted like cherry pie, but was sweetened only by the sugar naturally occurring in dates and cherries. A way to eat chocolate without sugar, and the key lime pie was almost transcendent. I could lament that my beloved Larabar is now a sellout, but that would be a bit of a double standard, since I still eat at (and love) Chipotle, which is the *only* good thing I can think of about McDonald's. However, now I've perfected the art of good guacamole, and can survive independent of a burrito bowl. So what to do about this new information? My trust in mass produced food products is waning. What is "peanut paste" doing in products advertised as mostly raw, organic, and unprocessed? What the heck is peanut paste, anyway?
Fast forward to this evening. I'd recently bought some dates to try, and having decided I didn't like them, offered them to a coworker. Her response was "don't give them to me, make something with them." I also happened to have some unsweetened, dried cherries, and thought, maybe I could make my own 'larabar.' Tonight's experiment is a success.
I have no idea the amounts I used, but I used the following ingredients:
Raw almonds, soaked at least 24 hours
medjool dates
dried unsweetened cherries
Rinse and drain the almonds, and mince in a food processor
Pit the dates, add them to the almonds, and process
Add cherries and process some more
Test and add ingredients and process some more until you like it. It should end up in a moldable consistency, with most everything in minced or smaller pieces. Spread to 1/4 to 1 inch thickness on plastic wrap, wrap, and refrigerate. I'll try to add a picture, but don't count on it.
In yesterday's news, I made my own kick butt teriyaki-style veggie saute with garlic, onion, mushrooms, zucchini, red bell pepper, and carrot. The teriyaki included wheat-free tamari, fresh ginger, sesame oil, honey, and rice wine vinegar. Dang!
Have I mentioned cooking is my new favorite relaxation activity?
Eat well and be well!
Work today involved painting the gallery walls. Someone provided tunes, and a John Mayer song about someone falling down a soda well got me thinking about that song I knew and loved from my church camp days, "The Ballad of Eddy Brown." Poor chap fell down a well. Hadn't thought of that in years, but after about half an hour, I had remembered all the lyrics and the tune. I'd quote it for you here, but it's a song in the oral tradition, has never been written down, and I'm not about to start. If you ask, I'll be happy to sing it for you. It is the goofiest of songs, and kept a smile on my face much of the day. So, yeah, I still got it, though *it* is apparently dorkiness. I could do worse, and have, so I'm choosing to cherish this. Look out younger cousins and nieces, you are about to learn a new song!
new things I've done at work in the past two weeks:
use a belt sander
build a pedestal (with assistance)
cut rabbets using a dado kit
put together exhibit cases with rabbeted tops, bottoms, and sides
apply a wash to a fence
use a hydraulic sander
I've only been on assignment for six days, but I am loving the work and the work environment/culture. After the stress of the past eleven months, it is absolutely priceless to work with pleasant, helpful people who like to listen to public radio all day. I am grateful.
For breakfast I broiled two grapefruit halves with a smattering of turbinado sugar on top. I read from Mary Oliver while I waited for the fruit to cool. Eating the grapefruit was like having the warm taste of summer in my mouth. Little bullets of tart juice bursting on my tongue. Is grapefruit a winter season fruit? Seems to be. If so, the bitter aftertaste is just a sharp reminder that summer is yet months away.
Currently reading Mary Oliver's 'House of Light.' Mary Oliver is to poetry as Annie Dillard is to prose. I can only take them in small doses, otherwise I become lost in the density of language and so much crushing, heartbreaking beauty of nature. The inevitable resolution of predator and prey spun into macabre, yet true, ballet. And finding parallels to human nature and myself in the lines. The same wings that bring an eagle to soar with magnificence enable it to swoop to capture field mouse or rabbit to feed. It is not wrong for the eagle to take prey for sustenance or to soar with perceived grandeur. To paraphrase a Native American quote, we hold the power to both create and destroy. To deny one is to deny both, I think, and so the challenge, as a human being, is to not cause unnecessary harm.
At left are my workboots prior to the first day on the new job at the beginning of this year. These heavy duty puppies have steel toes and steel shanks, though the steel shanks have not kept me immune to the effects of stepping on nails. It took three incidents in the first two months of work for me to finally pay some close attention to where I stepped. Fortunately, only one nail (the last, of course) punctured a load bearing part of my foot. After that, I had a pretty good streak of avoiding nails until the day before Jack's Generic triathlon. I was prepared to walk the run portion if it was too painful to run. Not to worry. I fell off my bike during my dismount at transition, and the pain from my bloodied knee made me forget all about the silly puncture in my foot. My knee only hurt for the first quarter mile of the race, otherwise I would have stopped, right?
At left are my workboots from about three months ago, though they looked like this since the first week on the job. Notice the nail stuck in the sole. These were retired in late September. My feet hurt so much it was painful to walk barefoot. Apparently I wore out the soles. The new boots have been awesome, and will definitely carry me through the end of the year.
Been having food and mild depression issues lately, plus, I've been wanting to fast, but the physicality of my job this year has precluded it. However, with only 44 hours left to work over two weeks (read: 4 and 5 day weekends), I decided rather spontaneously that this weekend would be a good opportunity to try an extended fast. By extended, I mean greater than 24 hours. I've done "liquid fasts" before. Actually, quite some time ago, when I thought a Dr. Pepper a day was a reasonable source of nutrition while fasting. How things change. I've never fasted for more than 24 hours, and I'm not committing to more than 72 for this one. It'll be interesting to see how things go after the first day. I completed my last meal around 1:30pm today, and have had nothing but water since. My blood sugar dropped around 3pm, but stabilized by 4pm. Part of my goal is to see if this helps clear my symptoms of depression. Therapy has been pretty productive for me lately, and this feels like a positive step in getting more clarity and awareness. The other goal is to examine and recalibrate my relationship with food. Since my big race in May, I've continued to eat like I'm training, but I've cut back my athletic activity considerably. I have a theory that my eating habits are contributing to my depression. We'll see what the next few days hold.
Tomorrow's schedule includes at least one yoga class, literal and figurative housecleaning, a second opinion on my car (which I learned today is living on borrowed time), getting the motorcycle running again, some cooking, a nap, and lots of water.
In just over two years, I put a thoroughly enjoyable 4400 miles on it, along with a few comfort and convenience accessories. I made a couple of my own repairs, learned how to jumpstart a bike, had a few scary moments on the roads, but always felt it was one of the best things I ever did for myself. I've known for awhile that hiking the AT would mean selling the savage, because I needed the proceeds to help fund the trip, and it would be wholly impractical and not good for the bike for it to sit for up to six months. Possessions pass into and out of our lives, and are easily replaced. Without a doubt, as long as I am physically able, I know I will be a motorcycle rider. I'm keeping the riding gear, because I'm sure one of these days, at least one of my long distance trips will be by motorcycle. Riding a motorcycle is the closest thing to flying without leaving the ground, and I know I want to get another one when I return from my hike. Until then, it was money and time well spent.
