I feel bad about not blogging. With the house full of company the past week and a half, my only internet access has been via iPhone or iPad. Sure, lots of folks are perfectly happy typing with one or two fingers, but I’m not one of them. I took a typing class in 9th grade for an easy grade. To my surprise, I not only learned to type but discovered I liked it. Now, it’s two hands or none.
Our daughter Polly was here for several days, the first few of which were anxious ones. She’d found a lump in her breast and had a referral from a clinic in Ajo for a mammogram in Tucson. She doesn’t have a car and could only come on the one day her boyfriend could drive her here, which was three days ahead of her appointment. It turned out the lump was just fibrous tissue, so the rest of her visit was a happy one, thank goodness. She drove back to Ajo with her boyfriend last night.
Polly’s visit overlapped with our friend Angie’s, here from Tampa until Monday. The dogs have been loving it. Different laps to curl up on by day, a wider selection of warm bodies to crawl into bed with at night!
I put our old hybrid bikes back into riding condition so that Polly and Angie could ride together, and they did. Angie and I rode too and will ride again tomorrow: earlier in the week we scouted a bicycle hare & hounds trail through downtown Tucson, tomorrow we’ll hare ahead of a pursuing pack. Angie talked me into putting metal baskets on the handlebars of the hybrids. We had to buy them at Wal-Mart, which made my skin crawl, but the price was right and Angie was buying. The baskets will hold our trail-marking flour bags.
Thursday was a motorcycle day. With our friends Jim and Mark, we rode to the old mining town of Bisbee and dropped in on hashing friends who live in one of the historic homes there.
It’s been a lively week. There’ll be a couple of quiet days after Angie flies home, but then I’m off on a five-day, three-state motorcycle run with my friend & maintenance guru Ed. Gotta ride now while it’s still cool enough, am I right?
Our mama hummingbird is back on her nest under the patio roof. I observed what I thought was her turning the eggs last night, but Donna thinks she was actually feeding chicks. We’ll know soon enough; I’m not going to pester the little family with my camera this year.
It occurs to me that I haven’t ridden the hybrid with two five-pound flour bags in a handlebar-mounted basket, and that I’d better go practice lest I trip myself up tomorrow. Wish me luck!
© 2015, Paul Woodford. All rights reserved.