Hand-Me-Ups

"Sorry old girl," I said to [my bicycle] Gladys in the gray dishwater light of early morning,

"but I have to leave you at home."

-- Alan Bradley, A Red Herring Without Mustard

Lego Mini Marge Simpson with bicycle 12-28-14

"So if you have a bike that's hanging in the garage  --

one that you have fondness for but rarely ride --

keep an eye and ear out for someone who may benefit from it.

Bikes are built to be ridden."

--Rhys Newman, 

"The Joy of Hand-Me-Down Bikes," adventure-journal.com

hand-me-up

(noun)
"Something, such as an item of electronic equipment,
that is passed from a younger to an older member of a family."

One of the benefits of having kids that are about my size, like Sam, or grown much bigger than me, like Leo, is that I get their hand-me-ups.

My husband and I are repositories for clothes our boys have outgrown, toys they no longer play with, gizmos and gadgets they've replaced with newer, snazzier versions.

My first digital camera was a hand-me-up from Sam. It's where I cut my teeth and cozied up to the idea of digital photography.

I have an old, soft, thick, plaid flannel shirt of Leo's that I wear almost every day. It's keeps me warm when the house is chilly.

My favorite hand-me-up of the moment is a bicycle that Leo bequeathed to me when he got his car.

We bought the bike for him when he outgrew his old one, but before he had a driver's license. He mostly rode it back and forth to football practice when he couldn't bum a ride.

It's a good bike, barely used, and it was just sitting neglected in the garage gathering dust.

So when winter hit and I moved my skinny-wheeled, temperamental road bike to the stationary trainer in the basement, I cleaned up Leo's mountain bike and started putting it to use.

Now, it's my town bike. On mild winter days, I get outside and ride it for exercise. I buzz to the store on it. I have a wire basket that I can put on the handlebars to carry home groceries and stuff. Sometimes I toss my camera in the basket and just go exploring.

It's a substantial, hearty bike with thick nubby tires and pedals that don't require specialized cycling shoes. It's more sure-footed on slippery surfaces, and it gets me out of the basement so I can still enjoy riding in the fresh air and sunshine, even if it gets a little snowy.

Riding a bicycle is one of my all-time favorite "good things." And thanks to Leo's hand-me-up bike and a mild (so far) winter, I am still out there riding one, even though it's nearly January.

Last Ride Of The Season

"Love doesn't make the world go 'round;

love is what makes the ride worth while."

-- Shannon L. Alder

Sad Lego clown and toy motorcycle 11-6-14

This good thing is definitely a mixed bag.

I've been putting off prepping my motorcycle, Suzi-Two, for winter because I'm lazy, but also because it makes me feel sad.

Sad Lego clown and toy motorcycle 11-6-14

But yesterday was sunny and warm-ish here, so I took advantage of the good weather to do two things: 

1. I gently and lovingly sponge-bathed Suzi outside in the driveway to get her ready for hibernation.

That was the sad part.

She looked stunning though, with her chrome all polished and sparkling in the late-autumn sunshine.

2. I leathered up one last time, pulled on my helmet and took Suzi out for one last ride.

That was the good part.

The landscape was also stunning, with its rolling vistas of red and gold and green. The fresh fall air was like a tonic for my soul. I froze my ass off, but I didn't care.

After my ride, my husband measured out the fuel stabilizer and poured it in Suzi's gas tank. It keeps her arteries from getting clogged in the cold.

Then he took out her heart -- er, her battery -- and hooked it up to the trickle charger in the basement. It's like a little life-support system that keeps her ticker ticking so it will be strong and vigorous in the spring.

Now, whenever I go to the basement, I see Suzi's disembodied heart on a shelf and I feel a tiny sad twinge in my own chest. I know it's for her own good, but still.

Today I will swaddle Suzi in her blue sleeping bag and finish tucking her in for her long winter's nap.

And until spring springs, every time I walk past Suzi in the garage I'll pat her on the saddle and wonder if she's missing me as much as I'll be missing her.

Maybe it hurts less if your heart is on a shelf.

Sigh.

Letting Creativity Flow

"May what I do flow from me like a river,

no forcing and no holding back,

the way it is with children."

-- Rainer Maria Rilke

Elf Lego mini figure and polymer clay hand 10-25-14

"Captivity ends when creativity begins."

-- Constance Chuks Friday

There are days when I find myself thinking hard about what my "good thing" is going to be, and worrying that I won't be able to think of anything good at all.

If I've learned nothing else in my creative pursuits, I've learned that the less I think and the less I try to force something to happen, the better off I am.

In sports psychology they refer to over-thinking as "paralysis by analysis." 

I know that if I try too hard to control an artistic outcome, it'll be doomed to failure, or at best, mediocrity.

Spontaneity and openness and receptivity are the keys that unlock creative "flow." If I just let what comes come, and then go with it, the results are almost always better than anything I could have plotted or planned.

Today's picture, for example.

Yesterday. Four thirty p.m. 

I have no idea what my "good thing" is going to be for the day.

I keep a little lump of polymer clay on the ledge of my kitchen bay window, so while I was thinking, I picked it up and began kneading and pinching and shaping it into a little tree.

Jessica Lange in King Kong (1976)

Leo's girlfriend, Mackenna, said "That looks like a hand."

She was right.

And so I tried working the tree into a hand. It didn't work, so I smushed it all back into a lump and started over, intentionally making a hand and fingers and knuckles and nails.

It was a perfectly fine little hand. But it needed something.

I also keep several Lego mini figures in the kitchen window at any given time -- currently Marge Simpson, Abe Lincoln and a very happy little gap-toothed green elf.

I pulled off the elf's arms and legs, then wrapped his dismembered remains in the clay hand. He looked a little like Jessica Lange gripped in King Kong's fist, but with a more elfin sexuality.

I stuck a chopstick through the clay wrist to give it turgor, making it into a little stick puppet. Then we took it out onto the patio and Mackenna held the elf-in-hand over a little puddle of green "pee" while I shot pictures.

During our photo shoot, Mackenna said something like, "I love how this just totally went from a lump of clay to this." 

And I said something like, "It's always good when art just happens."

Voila. I had my "good thing."

I'm making no pretense that our spontaneous collaboration is high art, or even good art, but I do think it is a good illustration for the point I'm trying to make.

Sometimes it's good to just go with the flow.

A Good Dad

"My father gave me the greatest gift 

anyone could give another person -- 

he believed in me."

-- Jim Valvano

Lego William Shakespeare mini figure and "Li'l Will" Shakespeare action figure 10-18-14

"I believe that what we become depends 

on what our fathers teach us at odd moments,

when they aren't trying to teach us."

-- Umberto Eco, Foucault's Pendulum

"Be more than a father, be a dad.

Be more than a figure, be an example."

-- Steve Maraboli, Unapologetically You: 

Reflections on Life and the Human Experience

Picture it:

It's the night of parent teacher conferences.

My husband and I are walking down the hall to our son's first grade classroom.

All available surfaces -- the windows, the doors, the ceiling, the kids' lockers -- are decorated with artwork and projects displaying what the children have been up to.

It's Martin Luther King Jr. Day, or was earlier in the week, and the lockers leading up to our son's classroom all have little signs that say "I have a dream ..." at the top, with each child's big dream penciled in the space below.

"I have a dream ... to be an actress."

"I have a dream ... to be an astronaut."

"I have a dream ... to be a doctor."

"I have a dream ... to be a veterinarian."

"I have a dream ... to be a football player."

"I have a dream ... to be famous."

We read each one, looking for our son's, trying to imagine how Leo would answer the question, wondering just what his big dream might be. You never knew with this boy. He could be a loose canon.

My husband's sharp intake of breath let me know he'd found it. It was the only one of its kind.

"I have a dream ... to be a dad."

My husband was speechless.

To me, it made total sense.

The kids all wanted to be just like their heroes. They all wanted to be just like the coolest person they could imagine. They all wanted to be just like someone who they thought was greater than great.

Leo too.

Today is not Father's Day.

Today is not my husband's birthday.

Today is simply a regular old Saturday.

So why am I telling you this?

No special reason. I just felt compelled to let him know how lucky I feel.

My boys couldn't have a better man to pattern their lives after. He is a strong, tender, attentive, dedicated, patient, passionate, intelligent, invested, engaged, fun, interesting and way-beyond-capable father. He is the ballast in our family's ship, and without him, we'd have all floated adrift long, long ago.

Leo could have chosen anything for his first grade "dream."

He didn't just make a good choice.

He made the very best choice.

Me too.

A Pretty Good Sequel

"Better we show them, we chose to die on our feet, rather than live on our knees!"

-- Themistocles, 300: Rise of an Empire

Legonidas 3-8-14

Queen Gorgo:

"Leonidas is dead ..."

Themistocles:

"Then avenge him!"

-- 300: Rise of an Empire

I love the movie 300, the story of how Spartan warrior Leonidas led an army of only 300 soldiers to take on hordes of Persians and their narcissistic, golden god-king, Xerxes.

When trailers for the sequel, 300: Rise of an Empire began running in theaters several months ago, I marked March 7th on my calendar and eagerly awaited opening day. I wanted to see it while it was still hot and fresh.

We chose a 4 p.m. matinee and got there plenty early to beat the Friday crowds, but as it turned out, we had the theater almost blissfully to ourselves. I love it when that happens.

This sequel takes a unique approach. Instead of telling what happened after the first film, it is the story of what happened during it -- the events that took place simultaneously on the Greek side of things as they battled the Persians at sea, fighting for democracy and freedom. You also get to find out how Xerxes became Xerxes. 

Even though I missed Gerard Butler as Leonidas, everyone else is back along with some new faces, particularly Eva Green as an uber angry, uber sexy Greek-turned-Persian naval commander Artemisia, whose sole purpose in life is to kill every Greek male on the planet in revenge for how her former countrymen mistreated her as a child. Nothing makes a better villain than a justifiably pissed off hot girl with a huge chip on her shoulder and an entire Persian navy at her command. 

Expect more of the highly stylized bloodshed and graphic novel-esque violence as the first film, but with blue capes, and ships!

I'm usually leery of sequels. They rarely measure up to their originals. I definitely liked the original 300 better, but as sequels go, this one was pretty darned entertaining. (Plus, we went out for Vietnamese food after the show and I had one of the best bowls of vegetable soup I've ever eaten).

Soup and a movie. Weird, I know. But good.