Motorcycle Virgin

"Faster, faster, faster, until the thrill of speed overcomes the fear of death." - Hunter Thompson

Okay, so my last post was a little ... well, let's just say those thoughts have long set sail. It was just one of those nights, I suppose.

Anyhoo, hubby taught me to ride his Kawasaki motorcycle last night.




It's a hunk of rusting red metal, but it's fun as hell to ride. I was a little skeptical that I wouldn't be able to handle the beast (read: I am so out of shape I was afraid my marshmallow arms would give out and I would be squished on the pavement).

After a careful lesson of first gear, the brake and a few other pointers, I was off. Err, okay, so it took me a few minutes (like an hour) to figure out how to ease off the clutch and throttle the gas, but I eventually figured it out. I cruised around the neighborhood at a respectable 15 mph, looking like a true biker babe in my half helmet, blue wind pants and tan sneakers. At least it was dark outside.

I did pretty well, aside of pulling out in front of an RV and nearly taking out our neighbor's kids on their silver tricycles. But it was fun, and I think hubby was proud. Maybe next time I can venture into second gear.

Floundering

I preface this blog with this statement: I love my hubby. Without question.

I heard through the grapevine today that an old flame of mine is leaving for a 7-month tour in the military. I won't get into too many specifics to help protect all involved. What it boils down to is that when I heard the news, my stomach began to churn. It's still in knots, hours later. I've tried to convince myself that they're knots of concern, but I'm floundering in a sea of doubt.

Right now I sit before this computer, listening to the sound of rolling thunder. Hubby is working on his computer in the other room. And I sit here. Alone. Wondering what the hell is wrong with me. I cannot be having these thoughts. And yet I wonder if he ever thinks about me ...

It would have never worked out for the long run. I am happy with my life and marriage. But good byes were left unsaid, and if something were to happen ...

A Welcome of Sorts

"A smile is the universal welcome." - Max Eastman

Well, if you're reading this, then you must have stumbled onto my blog. Welcome. Not sure really what you'll find here, but I'm guessing a lot about nothing. Oh sure, I have brilliant revelations from time to time that would make Jesus blush. But, for the most part, my life is pretty ordinary.

Which is why I'm trying to do something new everyday. I find it humorous and sometimes embarrassing, but in the end I always learn something new. Or discover something I enjoy even more than my trusty ol' favorites. (But NEVER will I find anything better than my fav pair of jeans ... even if they do have more holes than Swiss cheese.)

For today, I tried the chocolate shake at Which Wich. A minor feat, but if you only knew how loyal I am to Sonic's hot fudge milkshake, then you would give me a high five or a slap on the bum for branching out in the milkshake world. Anyhoo, it was cold, creamy and kind of made my belly hurt. Ohwell.

Until next time ...

UPDATE (9/10): You may notice a few posts dated before this official "welcome". Well, I moved a few entries over today that I had posted on another site because life is complicated enough without having to keep up with two blogs. I also kept them posted on the original dates, just to make my life easier. I like to keep it simple -- so enjoy!

The Dallas Cowboys -- My Two Cents

"Individual commitment to a group effort -- that is what makes a team work, a company work, a society work, a civilization work." ~ Vince Lombardi

It seems everyone has their own opinion of why the Cowboys didn't pull through this year, getting knocked out by the Giants in the first round of the playoffs. And everyone is entitled to their own opinion. BUT, if I have to listen to another accredited journalist carry on about how Jessica Simpson is to blame for the fall of the Cowboy empire, then I'm going to trade in my Journalism degree for one in basket weaving.

Why is everyone resting the loss on the shoulders of Tony Romo anyway? Now, I'm not saying he didn't have a few key mistakes –- but the Cowboys lost as a team. Just as they won as a team prior to the playoffs.

Perhaps if the coaches hadn't been concentrating on interviews elsewhere, they would have been better prepared for the game at hand. Maybe if the Cowboys didn't acquire 11 penalties during the game, they would have been able to gain a few more yards, leading to a few more points on the scoreboard. Or, maybe if the offensive line would've kept the pressure off Romo in the second half, he wouldn't have gone down like a sack of potatoes every 5 seconds. Maybe if Jerry Jones hadn't paraded down the sidelines, shouting sweet nothings in the players' ears, they could have focused their hearts on the game. Maybe Crayton could catch a ball every once in awhile.

My point? Pressure knocked -– and everyone cracked.

The team is still evolving. The Cowboys are in a better place now than two years ago. So why is it that they aren't getting at least a little more credit for what was a pretty damn good season. I think everyone expected this to be Tony Romo's glory season with a fairy tale ending. But that's not how football works. Experience, preparation and cohesion are what work. And now, maybe the Cowboys are finally in a place to achieve that.

Stepping off my blue soapbox ...

An Inner Battle of Sorts

I'm currently fighting an inner battle about my current job situation. My previous contract position ended last week and I now have two offers for new positions on the table: Job A is a higher level position but requires four days a week in Chicago for at least one year; Job B is along the same lines as I was doing but working from home.

Sure, many might think "But dear, you're married, why would you want to be gone four days a week?" Because Job A presents a fantastic opportunity to gain awesome experience and exposure. Hubby's being as supportive as he can, but of course it's hard for him to be happy about it. Especially when Job B would allow me to work from home -- and the pay would be about the same.

Job B would be perfect for raising a family. And I tend to be a bit of a hermit and kind of relish the idea of working in my pjs. But will I gain enough to advance later in life?

My old boss says I need to figure out what I want out of life. He's the kind of person that lives to work. I think I work to live. The idea of Chicago is exciting -- but I know the glamour would wear off in a month or so. I would miss hubby. But would I regret not taking it later? Do I want the corporate career, the 8-6 schedule, wearing suits, networking with the company's elite?

Or do I want to have time to breathe during the day, enjoying life outside of work, having the opportunity to start a family sooner rather than later? We've been talking about building a new house, one that we can raise a family in, and that's exciting too. And I've always wanted more time that I can spend volunteering like I used to -- Job B would allow that. Flexibility is a rare gift these days.

Some say that I'm young, take the job in Chicago, it's a great career move. Others say I'm young, newly married and it would be too hard on the marriage. Then there's those who believe career will always be there later, so choose your marriage/family first.

I visited Chicago last week -- I do love big cities. But, the things that make Chicago wonderful are things I wouldn't experience because I'd be working or flying home. If the job was writing for a magazine, then I would sign the papers and hubby would back me 110%. But Job A is not my dream job and he knows that.

So I sit here now. Wide awake just like last night, and the night before. I'm waiting for a sign, it seems -- a huge blinking arrow that will fall from the sky and point me in the right direction.

Taking the Cow out of "Cowboys Cheerleaders"

Hubby's out of town, so I'm curled up on the couch, watching Chick TV, munching on handfuls of chocolate. Which is great fun until I get warped into watching shows like "Dallas Cowboys Cheerleaders", a reality show on CMT following the cheerleaders from tryouts to their first game.

I will admit I was enjoying the show. That is until they cut a girl from training camp because she was "fat". This girl weighed less than me, looked great in tiny spandex shorts, had a beautiful face, but neglected to have the washboards abs the coach was looking for.

Extremely frustrating. She was an AMAZING dancer. Even the coach said her technical skills were the best of the group. So why was she cut? I thought the Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders were supposed to be great role models. But by cutting the "fat" girl on national television, the coach is sending the message that America would rather watch a so-so dancer with washboard abs, than an elegant and amazing performer with a slightly softer middle.

It's shallow. And disgusting. I thought beauty rested in the overall woman, not just the midsection.

Tick Tock to the Boat Dock

Today has been a long day. Not really due to work, more like I just want to get outside and enjoy the beautiful weather. Last week at work was a doozy, let me tell ya. But today, the minutes have seemed to flow like molasses, a thick oozing of time that won't release my butt from this chair. Or my hands from this keyboard. My eyes from this screen. Tiiiiiiiccckkkk Toooocccck. So to help pass the time that, some day, I'll complain I don't have enough of, I figured I'd write a much delayed blog ...

Hubby and I have decided to buy a boat. Sure, probably an unpractical decision but, if you really know us then you know how much we enjoy hanging out on the water and fishing. We like to call it Couples Therapy, and I HIGHLY recommend it.

For those who know boats, we're thinking of the Stratos 486SF. (If you've heard something terrible about them, please let me know before we sink like the Titanic.) We've done a ton of research and looked at more boats than I truly have patience for, and this "fish and ski" seems like a great compromise for what we both want.

Not that we ski, but it would be nice to have a bigger boat so we can hang out on the lake, have room for company (and the little ones someday). And I wouldn't mind learning to wakeboard, though I've heard it's insanely rough on weak bodies like mine! As long as I have a cup holder for my adult beverage and plenty of room to cast, I'm set.

And I can't tell you how many city slickers tried to sell us floating pieces of rusty crap for almost the same cost of a new boat. FRUSTRATING. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that a deep gouge in the bottom of a boat isn't a good thing. Neither are live wells filled with nesting insects. Okay, so that last one is easily fixable with some pesticide and a hose, but I'm not reaching my hand in there.

For once I won't be pasty white all summer. I'll be glowing with skin cancer (but still glowing, nonetheless), cheeks kissed by the sweltering summer sun. And heck –- if I don't catch the 10lb bass of my dreams, I'll just pop a top to a new day …