I don’t remember the name of the paint color I picked for most the house. It’s a creamy white and I love the way it contrasts against the dark wood beams. I don’t remember what kind of wood it is. I think it’s teak, stained dark, but even if someone told me I probably would forget.
I don’t remember the passwords I’ve selected for most of my many online accounts. I’m forever needing to give my password hint and reading those wavy number-letter combinations they ask you for to verify it’s you. Or at least that’s what I imagine those psychedelic number-letters are doing. Besides making you feel woozy for an instant.
I don’t remember good portions of my childhood, if I ever got to sleep with my older sister, the one closest to me in age. I loved everything about her. Her long straight hair, black not brown. Her skinny arms and lazy-looking eyes. I loved how she always wore miniskirts or bell bottoms and that she was neat. She kept her Barbies in a Barbie case, with tiny hangers, which I lost soon after she passed them all down to me. I remember cutting Skipper’s hair so short and then lamenting it couldn’t grow back. I don’t remember if the reason I cut it was because I thought it would grow back.
I don’t remember the name of my third grade teacher. I know it started with a Z. I know Miss Wood was first grade. Miss Wood with white-blond hair worn ala Marilyn Monroe, who was so beautiful I couldn’t believe she was a teacher. I remember Mrs. Salisbury, second grade, the first and only Black teacher I had in elementary and even junior high. They call New Mexico a tricultural state: Hispanic, American Indian, White. I wonder what it feels like being left out of the picture.
I don’t remember much about third and fourth grade. Those were spent in a new school. I remember wishing I had Mrs. Salisbury again.
Oi! Passwords! Everytime I go on-line to pay my Visa card I have a mini-anxiety attack about remembering how to log-on and if I mess up, I’ll be blocked. Or…did I even use my card this month if not, do I even have to bother?
Sometimes when I ride my bike, I forget everything. Suddenly I am somewhere else on the trail and don’t remember how any details of how I got there. I like that that sensation.
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As long as you can snap to and remember how to get home, that sounds delicious.
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Riding practice instead of writing practice, eh MM?!
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ybonesy,
Your blog is inspiring me to write. I just posted something on my blog. Two posts in a week! Egads!
Wordraw,
I usually ride solo and know where I am. I’ve only been lost once, (in the Gila [New Mexico]) but I was able to find my way home.
mm
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mm,
So happy that red Ravine is inspiring you. I’ll have to check out your new posts.
I got lost in Arches National Park on a hike once. I am terrible at directions, have something a friend told me is called Mixed Dominance. I don’t register direction.
Anyway, I tried to hike by myself and lost the cairns on the path. It was getting dark so I settled in under an arch near a warm rock and watched the bats eat mosquitoes, hoping someone would find me. I had not brought water (stupid). I did have two camera bodies and plenty of film. : – )
Eventually, after a few hours, the park ranger and a group of my fellow photo students from RIT came calling my name around the bend. The rest of the story is good, too. But this is all I have time for.
It’s good to have a good sense of direction. And sometimes, it’s even okay to get lost.
QM
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Arches…one of my favorite places on the planet.
My first mountain bike trip to Moab was in February of 1987. As usual, I was solo and not knowing where to camp, I headed for the national park. I drove my Ranger pickup up the hill in the full moonlight. Snow was on the ground reflecting the light. In the pale light, I could make out the features; the Three Gossips, Balancing Rock, the spectacular fin formations, bluffs, etc. I don’t know if I’ll ever experience Arches N.P. quite as beautiful as that again. Definately something I will remember!
I set up my tent in the campground, and at sunrise I went hiking. I tracked a deer that morning. I saw fresh tracks and walked quietly and found it. It was eating its breakfast quietly among the rocks. I let it be. I walked to Landscape arch, then to the Double-O arch and continued looping around through the fins. A glorious before breakfast walk.
My love for the West is what I really want to share with my Venezuelan wife.
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