Tonight, after work, I'm going to ride my bicycle to the library.
And browse like it's going out of style.
I'm an unashamed and regular library visitor but lately, it seems, I'm usually in and out, picking up and dropping off DVDs and books and flying off to my next destination.
But not tonight. Tonight I'm going to linger in the stacks, letting my fingers run over all the various-sized spines, picking and choosing books with a liberal hand, stopping to read chapters here and there, hunting for something new and worthwhile. Maybe tonight I'll even break my tendency to dismiss a book based on its cover art, and will actually take the time to skim before rejecting. (Contrary to the old phrase, you can almost always judge a book by its cover. Case in point: Harlequin.)
Then I'll ride home, in the golden light of a clear August evening. Sigh. Bliss.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
ahh...icy hot!
On Sunday, I had the wonderful opportunity to play racquetball for the first time since...umm...January-February 2003. I'd been missing the game something fierce recently, and was able to hook up with the coworker of a friend to try out the beautiful new facilities at the downtown Y. We had a great time. I was pretty extraneously rusty for a few minutes, but as we warmed up, it all started coming back. Ish.
He creamed me the first game, but I made a comeback. Well, ok, I still lost, but he had to work for it. I enjoy playing with guys--the intensity they tend to bring prompts a similar reaction in me, one I don't often get to cut loose. Let me put it this way: when your opponent is shouting and whooping, it frees you up to do the same. Ha. Really. I have sound effects. I can reign those in if it doesn't feel appropriate, but on Sunday I didn't have to. I didn't have to tone it down or take it easy or worry about running someone over...not that I didn't nail the guy a couple times, but when you pretty much bounce off the other person, it's impossible to feel at fault.
There was certainly nothing tentative about our play. We were whaling the ball--I was caroming off walls and diving onto the floor. We played for a solid hour. I was hot-fuchsia-faced and literally dripping with sweat and...I already knew I would be catastrophically sore.
And I sure am. My racket arm did not want to hold the blow dryer up this morning. I'm all rubbed up with Icy Hot--hopefully, anyone coming by my office will simply think I've got a thing for peppermints.
Still, it's a beautiful thing. Thank God for little square rooms, short handled rackets, and blue rubber balls.
He creamed me the first game, but I made a comeback. Well, ok, I still lost, but he had to work for it. I enjoy playing with guys--the intensity they tend to bring prompts a similar reaction in me, one I don't often get to cut loose. Let me put it this way: when your opponent is shouting and whooping, it frees you up to do the same. Ha. Really. I have sound effects. I can reign those in if it doesn't feel appropriate, but on Sunday I didn't have to. I didn't have to tone it down or take it easy or worry about running someone over...not that I didn't nail the guy a couple times, but when you pretty much bounce off the other person, it's impossible to feel at fault.
There was certainly nothing tentative about our play. We were whaling the ball--I was caroming off walls and diving onto the floor. We played for a solid hour. I was hot-fuchsia-faced and literally dripping with sweat and...I already knew I would be catastrophically sore.
And I sure am. My racket arm did not want to hold the blow dryer up this morning. I'm all rubbed up with Icy Hot--hopefully, anyone coming by my office will simply think I've got a thing for peppermints.
Still, it's a beautiful thing. Thank God for little square rooms, short handled rackets, and blue rubber balls.
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