I already drink like a fish, so ...

Davina and I have resolved to start swimming at least twice a week. This promises to be highly amusing, as neither of us is a strong swimmer.

Davina: *clutching a pool noodle and kicking desperately* Warn me if I'm going to run into something!
Me: *standing in the thigh-high water next to her* Sure ... except, you're not really moving.

My major advantage over Davina is that fat floats, so I'm never in any real danger. Also, I can touch the bottom of the pool with my toes, even at the deep end. Yeah, I'm basically a giant.

But we always have a good time, so we've decided to name our little club (yes, two people can form a club - shut up). We're calling ourselves: Don't Laugh, You'll Drown. Catchy, eh? Davina even talked me into goggles and nose plugs - we really need to take pictures of that. Neither of us want to hold political office, anyway.

Also, my parents visited me for Independence Day. Here are the highlights:

Dad: How is Jo-jo?
Me: Jojo and her fiance Shawn graduated in May. Shawn was the 500th graduate from BTSR!
Dad: Ooh! Did they brand him?
Me: What?!? No!
Dad: They do it, Amma.
Me: No! No they don't!
Dad: *miming pressing a hot poker to his forehead* Ssssssssssst!

Mom: I love you so much, Amma, I could sit here and look at you all day. *thoughtful pause* Though you might not like it so much.

"Get a bicycle. You will not regret it, if you live." - Mark Twain

Monday was an exhausting day at work (though Head Doc did return from his trip, bearing Toblerones ... joy!). When I got home, I was starving. I started to make jambalaya - and promptly set a pot of oil on fire. Sound familiar?

Did I mention that I almost burned my condo down? Oh, yeah - while making tortillas I somehow managed to catch the pan on fire. Luckily, I had a pretty functional response (cursing and smothering the flames) rather than my usual spaz-out.

I was again able to smother the flames, but the smoke detector was going crazy. So I took the pan outside and removed the lid to let the smoke out. HUGE MISTAKE. Reunited with its long-lost love, oxygen, the fire roared back to life right in my face. I escaped with my eyebrows intact (more's the pity), but badly shaken. I decided to give up on dinner to keep my play date with Wistar.

I unlocked Killer from her cage the shed. That's right. Immediately after my near-death cooking experience, I thought it would be a jolly idea to get on my evil bicycle.

Sometimes, I wonder about myself. I really, really do.

On the bright side, I have come to the point in my life (decades ahead of my peers) that I don't worry about looking like a complete fool. I drove to the park to meet Wistar, and immediately strapped on my bike helmet and gloves. The children playing soccer and the young men with their dogs were highly amused.


My helmet looks like this ... only dorkier.

Wistar: *not amused* What are you wearing?
Me: Now now, Wistar. Safety first.
Wistar: I meant on your feet. Are those flip-flops?
Me: Well, my toesies like to breathe.

My poor footwear choices aside, we had a great lesson. I learned how to turn around! Next time, we may even leave the parking lot.

Lucky Girl

This weekend was something of an adventure. Maggie and I had plans to take Andi out for lunch, in lieu of attending her bridal shower. I figured that if I was going to be down in SWVA anyway, I might as well swing by Castle Sri and pick up my mother's old bicycle (this being an integral part of my Lose 25 By 25 plan).

Let me tell you a little of my cycling history. As a child, I loved my bike. It had a totally 80's color scheme of teal and pink, a tinny, annoying bell and a basket with a unicorn sticker. Not to mention the sparkly white handlebar tassels. In other words, this bike was hot shit. I named her Beulah.

So what if I never quite mastered the art of turning around? So what if I usually forgot all about my brakes and would have to skid to a stop using my feet, Flintstones-style? Beulah and I were learning and growing together.

Then, it happened. During a lesson with my parents, I had a terrible fall into the harsh, unforgiving gravel of a church parking lot. My leg was all torn up and I was completely traumatized. How could Beulah betray me like that? She and I never spoke again, and I didn't get back on a non-stationary bike for 16 years.

Flash forward to yesterday, and my mother's old bike (adjusted for height). Fighting my fear, I got back on and, after a few wobbly starts, seemed to be getting the hang of it. Struggling my way up a hill, I noticed that my gear dials did not match. As I dismounted to point the bike back down the hill, I made my fatal mistake - I turned the gear dials all the way down.

If I had been a movie heroine, the entire audience would have been screaming, "DON'T DO IT!" I know this now. Sadly, my life is not a movie (though if it were, it would certainly be a comedy of errors).

As you can imagine, I began careening down the hill at a slightly scary speed. My dad and Maggie, trying to stay out of my wildly oscillating path of destruction, were calling out "stop, stop!" True to form I panicked, neglected the brakes, and put my feet down.

Too bad I was barefoot at the time.

Leaving a thin layer of skin behind, I came to a stuttering halt. The bike did not stop with me, however. That's right - face plant onto hot asphalt. And I would have laughed, if it all hadn't been so tragically awkward.

Luckily, I was relatively unhurt. After some coddling by my mother (she actually clutched me to her bosom and stroked my hair), I was even able to get right back on. Though my dad made sure I took a helmet, and even offered elbow and knee pads. Probably should have taken him up on that...

By the way, the new bike's name is Killer.

And then on the way to Andi's house, my car (Sheldon) got a flat. We were able to get it replaced with a minimum of fuss and went on to have a delightful lunch, but my mom was rather concerned.

Mom: I worry about you!
Me: I worry about me, too.
Mom: Amma, I think someone has put drishti* on you.
Me: Oh you and your quaint, folksy superstitions ... do you really think so?!?

The problem being, you can't remove drishti from yourself. So please stop hating on me, people ... it's hazardous to my health.


*literally, view/sight ... figuratively, The Evil Eye