Today, not such a good day at work. There were no quesadillas today, there was no laughter.
Burnt a rice soup, totally blew it.
Forgot to pull turkeys, totally blew it.
Had lunch with Grandma and complained the whole time, totally blew it.
Dropped a three hundred pound industrial meat slicer on my hand while trying to wipe underneath it, totally blew it.
I cried right after because I thought I shattered every bone in my hand and then I stopped crying when I realized I could still move everything and I was just being a baby. A baby in pain. Thank you mother and father for instilling the no blood, no sympathy adage within us all. No blood was shed, no bones broken. Just about a trillion blood vessels. So I biked home with one hand and the already-purple one tucked into my armpit knowing full well that I fully blew it today and later it dawned on me in the quiet of my home that this is just the tip of the iceburg of the pain and toil that is to come. Except I will have no mama to call in the bush. Even when blood has been drawn.
At least my bread-and-butter hand (the one that got crushed) will still be able to plant. Thus, I am still able to plant. My bike dealer came by today to show me a potential new member of my bicycle family and while it had flare and was a perfect fit size-wise (I am size fifty, take that insecure women everywhere), it wasn't the right one. I have no desire to build up a new bike this summer (other than a new front wheel to match the hind, maybe) but I will know the potential addition to my stable when I see it. I have something in mind, but time will tell. I was happy to hear that J. Alba and I have good street credibility from his own bike snob sources and we both agreed that I have graduated to brakeless, a chrome Chris King headset and track drops. It is time for track. It is time for (humble) flare.
Still blowing it in the pain department, but this time with a stiff upper lip. No one keeps Baby in the corner. Babs is FINALLY home and I am dying to swim in a bottle of rouge with her beside her fakey fireplace, so off I go with my hand retucked into my armpit. Oh, also, I think this baby below would be a good match for my Jessica (pictured bottom, bottom).
The more babes in the stable, the better.