The older boy and I went out to pick up some groceries a short while ago. As we were leaving the neighborhood, one of my neighbors came charging in on his roadbike and so I told the boy the story he didn’t know of his father.

“When you were really young, I know you remember that I used to be really into cycling.”
“Yeah, weren’t you in a few races,” he asks.
“No, they weren’t races, they were for charity,” I respond.

So I go on to tell him about the time that I went all Italian. Bought the Italian bike, Italian helmet, Italian jersey, Italian shoes, and Italian clipless pedal (you snap your italian shoes into place once you mount your bike).We’re living in a fairly large and nice neighborhood at the time. The way rides would go for me is that I’d ride out of the neighborhood, take side roads to the edge of town and then ride low-traffic country roads for miles upon miles. So I gear up and I make my way out of my neighborhood, getting comfortable with my new gear.

While I’m sill in the comfort of shade trees and old homes, I pass a young couple out for an evening bike ride on their grandma seat leisure bikes. I whiz by, not intentionally, but because I was on a different mission than them. But instantly, I’m at a stop sign.

So I come to a halt and am about to pop my feet out of the pedals and they’re stuck!! So I’ve got all of about half of a second to wrangle a foot out of either pedal before I just fall to the side. Couldn’t do it. So with gravity giving me no reprieve and balance leaving quickly, I just fall like a dork to my right.

Meanwhile, Jack and Sally, who I had JUST left in the dust, slowly pedal up to me. They ask if I’m ok or if I need help. “No, I’m good, thanks.” Meanwhile, I’m taking off my shoe at this point, unable STILL to pop it from the grip of the pedal. I couldn’t do anything but laugh about it then and it still cracks me up. But it dawned on me today that they’ve probably laughed at that story as many times as I have. The viewpoint they had must have been hilarious.

Not my most graceful moment.

This is such a relaxed life. I’m sitting here doing some things on a quiet Saturday night. Senor Roody is out working, I’ll be picking him up in another hour or so. And the young one is laying on the floor playing a video game.

What amuses me is that when both of my boys play this particular video game, they customize the audio selection so that it plays nothing but classical and easy listening. I like that.

This is such a tranquil evening. So nice. I still can’t decide if I’m going to church in the morning. It’s been so long since I’ve made an appearance. But I kind of want to check in with the peeps and see what’s doin’. I’m sure I’ll sleep in moments too late to actually go, though. Maybe I’ll watch some church tv in the morning. See if the story has changed at all. Really wanted to talk to some of them, though.
Oh well, I guess I’ll see what happens when I wake up.

My god, my god, my god…
I’m so happy right now. For reasons that are beyond any natural explanation. Reasons that run outside of the natural course of life and emotion.

Nothing. Not one single thing at this very moment can topple me from this peak.

It’s my own design,
It’s my own remorse,
Help me to decide,
Help me make the most
Of freedom and of pleasure
Nothing ever lasts forever,
Everybody wants to rule the world

Theres a room where the light wont find you
Holding hands while the walls come tumbling down,
When they do I’ll be right behind you

So glad we’ve almost made it
So sad they had to fade it
Everybody wants to rule the world

Shout it! Shout it, I say!

My god, my god! I love this earth. I love people. I could kiss the sky. How could it ever be otherwise? I mean, really? I just can’t be any other way, can I really?

It’s a festivus miracle. Boy Wonder managed to get a job. Knowing that if he didn’t get a job by the end of today that he would be out at his mother’s for the rest of the summer, the boy pulled it off.

He’s been looking all week and last, and today, someone looked and said, “I like the cut of your jib!”

This reminded me of my first job. My dad was such a wiener. And, thus, made me one. I was at boarding school up in NY my junior year. Before the school year let out, my dad had me type up a letter which I then mailed to a grocery store down in Ocean Isle Beach, NC, where I would be spending some of that summer.

I don’t know if I ever got a letter back. But I do remember when I went to interview (in I’m SURE a coat and tie for the lovely position of bag boy) and was subsequently hired. Everyone knew who I was. “Oooooh, so you’re Scott.” Thanks pops. Nothing like dorking it up the first day in a new environment.

It was cool, though. One of the best summers at the beach. Good friends, good times, good love.