box_camera: (yay omg)

my bicycle fuck yeah, originally uploaded by pinstripe_bindi.

JUST LOOK AT IT.



You guys, I am probably leaving a little trail of cartoon hearts in my wake when I ride this around. I LOVE IIIIIIIT.

I looked into getting a geared bicycle; but honestly, the ground here is like the back of my hand. On terrain so flat, it's really just wasted effort. Plus, I just love the way cruisers look and feel. It' silly, but I respond emotionally to a cruiser like I never have to a ten-speed. The design has hardly changed since the 1950s; even the small changes they did make in the '70s and '80s have mostly been discarded. The last bicycle I had in California, a Schwinn Windwood, was very similar, and I can't even tell you how many times people my mother's age would stop me and say "That looks just like the bicycle I had as a kid!" It used to happen like, weekly.

I'm not sure how well the wicker basket will hold up in this climate, but it just went so much better with the bicycle than the metal ones, which I've never really cared for. I like this better because it won't rattle and bang and scrape the paint off. But this is a leisure bicycle, not my primary mode of transportation like it was in California, so I won't be out in bad weather much.

I'd forgotten how much I enjoy bicycling. You just notice so much more on a bicycle. You can smell the cane fields and the ditches and the rain; hear the insects and the birds. I've already shot a bunch of Holgaroids -- it's much easier to stop by the side of the road and photograph, say, a burning cane field when you're on a bicycle and not in a car.

Bicycling is REALLY not a popular hobby here, so people do stare. But I mean, people stared at me in California, too. It was like a fat girl riding an old-fashioned bike was the most amazing thing they'd ever seen in their life. You'd have thought I was riding a dinosaur or something by the way people gawked.

box_camera: (yay omg)
This weekend was very pleasant, sunny but not hot with just the right amount of breeze. It made me miss bicycling, so I went to Wal Mart to see what they had, and instantly fell in love with this:

Seriously, you guys. It was like that scene at the end of the Firefly episode "Out of Gas", where Mal sees Serenity for the first time (only she's not yet Serenity, just some busted-up piece of rusting junk, so I am obviously more shallow than Cap'n Tightpants). I wanted to pull it off the rack and slip a ring on its handlebar. I forced myself to walk away, because a) I wanted to wait a few days for my next paycheck; and b) I couldn't have fit it in my car anyway, I'll need Mom to come with me in her truck. But she will be mine. Oh, yes... she will. Probably Wednesday-ish.

I got some shooting done in my Argus C3, although I didn't finish the roll, and last night I made dinner for Granny again. She's kind of depressed about the upcoming holidays, because she misses Grandpa more during them. Plus a few of the residents in her assisted living home -- ones she actually liked -- have recently died.

Mom says she's also worried about Uncle Larry's memory, but I find the ALZHEIMER'S OMG diagnosis everyone's leaping to a little premature. I mean, the guy was a speedball addict for 2 decades. If a little short term memory loss is the only thing he suffers from in his 60s, he's gotten off easy.

I made turkey sage meatloaf, which I brought up making a couple months back and which Mom came up with about a dozen excuses (it's too different, she doesn't like meatloaf, she's 91 and won't try anything new, blah blah blah) for why Granny wouldn't eat it. The last one was the excuse that seriously made me think this was some bizarre conspiracy against me cooking for my grandmother, for motivations I can't even begin to guess at: "She won't be able to chew it". Right. Because everyone knows meatloaf is up there with like, steak or peanut brittle in the category of foods that are tough to chew even when you're not working with your original 90+ year old teeth. The hell?

So I made it anyway, and Granny liked it (I made a kick-ass gravy; gravy is something that I'm kind of hit-or-miss with but this one was a resounding success), and the first thing she said after finishing was "I like meatloaf, it's one of those things that's easy for me to chew".

HEY MOM YOU WANT A LITTLE SALT WITH THAT CROW YOU'RE EATING

You guys, I love my mother, but there are things she does that make no. fucking. sense. at all. to me. I'm learning she exaggerates the hell out of Granny's fussiness w/r/t food. Yes, like most 91-year-old Cajuns, she's a little picky. (Although she'll eat calves' brains and headcheese, 2 things that I can't even look at or smell, never mind chew and swallow.) It reminds me of how she used to exaggerate Grandpa's hearing loss. I mean okay, yes, when the guy entered his 90s, his hearing suffered a little. You had to pitch your voice a little louder in order for him to hear. But she used to bellow at him as if he were stone deaf. Once he and I were talking and I guess Mom thought I wasn't screaming quite at the top of my voice enough, and she yelled "DAD, CAN YOU HEAR HER?!?!?!" He looked at her mildly and said "I could hear you out in the street."

You have to have known my grandfather to understand how truly devastating that was. I was dying.
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