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Asha and Eddie are getting married tomorrow morning.

And coming to Montery for their lune de miel.

When man invented the bicycle he reached the peak of his attainments.  Here was a machine of precision and balance for the convenience of man.  And (unlike subsequent inventions for man's convenience) the more he used it, the fitter his body became.  Here, for once, was a product of man's brain that was entirely beneficial to those who used it, and of no harm or irritation to others.  Progress should have stopped when man invented the bicycle.  ~Elizabeth West, Hovel in the Hills

When I see an adult on a bicycle, I do not despair for the future of the human race.  ~H.G. Wells

Melancholy is incompatible with bicycling.  ~James E. Starrs

Get a bicycle.  You will not regret it if you live.  ~Mark Twain, "Taming the Bicycle"

 

Nothing compares to the simple pleasure of a bike ride.  ~John F. Kennedy

The sound of a car door opening in front of you is similar to the sound of a gun being cocked.  ~Amy Webster

Think of bicycles as rideable art that can just about save the world.  ~Grant Petersen

What do you call a cyclist who doesn't wear a helmet?  An organ donor.  ~David Perry

Cycle tracks will abound in Utopia.  ~H.G. Wells

I took care of my wheel as one would look after a Rolls Royce.  If it needed repairs I always brought it to the same shop on Myrtle Avenue run by  Ed Perry.  He handled the bike with kid gloves, you might say.  He would always see to it that neither front nor back wheel wobbled.  Often he would do a job for me without pay, because, as he put it, he never saw a man so in love with his bike as I was.  ~Henry Miller, My Bike and Other Friends

Cherie and I

leave the house every day

a few hills on our way

 

but most of the ride

the sea is alongside

 

whose depth I've admired 

tho elsewhere I've desired

It remains a stranger to me.

 

There are so many places

where my heart races

   

   

But here, my heart has to wait.

 

Help me remember the time that I did homework while my bum slowly sunk to the floor atop a noiselessly deflating twin air matress.  My only furniture.

Let's look back and laugh at the evolution of my stomach lining from the Irish peasant descended cement brick impervious to the acidic tempermentality of the long road taken and coffee and granola bar diet.   And how hilarious the morning I pulled my bike over and nearly yakked in the bush outside of Longs.

And picture my nights alone when I found that emotional stability that was leaving me through various spiritual instruments.

My Career:  

Nine of Wands - Discipline

"A confident goddess-like woman stands on a stone pedestal holding aloft two chevron-tipped swords, through the sheer strength of her will.  She is preparing to send them flying, tip first, into the ground, as she has already done with the seven other wands, to complete the barrier of protection at the mouth of her cave.  She hesitates to complete the job, realizing that she may be as much a prisoner of her efforts as she will be secure.  This is the dual nature of discipline.  The flower above her, however, radiates sun-energy and health of mind and body, so she will make the choice appropriate to the situation.  Her decision may be at variance with the commonplace notions, but she is not swayed by the opinions of the multitudes.  Her base is secure. "

My Career Life:

Four of Wands- Completion

"The wands support a fruitful tree, heavy with the results of perfected skills and work well done.  Beneath the tree are joined a husband and wife.  There is a suggestion of domestic tranquility, security and mutual support as they stand back-to-back, shoulder-to-shoulder, with their feet firmly planted.  Together they have achieved much and their harmonious relationship has helped to bring forth this harvest.  Two birds perch above the pair to cap the success of their aspirations and the happiness of their relationship.  Calm lines of structured energy traverse the sky.  Your labors have created a strong foundation."

The city begins to make sense, street names and neighborhoods become recognizable, navigable.  There is a spike in language acquisition, vocabulary expands by handfuls of words in one afternoon, like "wonderful"  and "stupid." 

The city has been experienced in the night and in the day, on foot, car, bus, taxi, metro, and boat.    But then, just when you make your first perfect pot of Turkish tea, and feel comfortable, relaxed and connected, something in the back of your mind tells you everything will change completely again soon.                  Very soon.  

Upon exiting your front door, feel free to  playfully attempt speedy navigation through the throngs, - as if in a starwars game.

Settle into a comfortable table along the Bosphorus while Sun is setting.  Take your first sip of a delicious wine and peruse the menu as a ship from Phom Penh unloads in the harbor.

You may drop your forkfull of delicious appetizer and lapse in the discussion of Iran as the moon begins to rise and command the horizon.

 

In fact there may be nothing to say for awhile other than breathless laudation of the moons stunning beauty.

At some point during the night, -clearly and sincerely state your top three reasons for wanting to be reasonably to quite wealthy.  Fireworks along the Bosphorus bridge will help drive your message home.

Bailey's n wine later,  stroll along home down your street,  lit up like a dragon.

Roofers are working on my terrace.  Yesterday morning they came very early and started 'taking over the space' while I was yawnignly washing some dishes and making some coffee.  The senior among them was offering me some coca cola as I could decipher from his gesticulations.  With my gestures I replied no thankyou, but he brought it anyway.  He proceeded to ask me my name and where I am from, -that much I could tell,  -but he was going on in Turkish as if everyone must understand Turkish and I must just be shy. 

He gestured to the sky and waved his hands and as I was no good conversation at all, he retreated to the terrace to make some phone calls.  "Kerdee!"" he called again, and brought over the phone, held it to my ear, and nodded encouragingly.  I continued washing dishes and asked, "hello?" (i.e. 'what the....') .  The guy on the line didn't speak English either, I didn't get the point.  The roofer paced out to the terrace and talked some more and then brought the phone back and held it to my ear again for me to talk.  I was outta there.   On my way he handed me the bottle of coke so that I might put it in the fridge for him.

I mentioned it to the secretary in the afternoon and she went straight up and gave him a piece of her mind.  He replied to her  that he was finished with the job anyway and would not be coming back.  

The next morning he was back. 

I sat together with my lady colleagues for a few of their morning cigarettes.  They asked me about the 'telephone game' and one translated it to the others.  They went on talking about this incident and occasionally holding an invisible phone to their ear while story telling , widening and narrowing their eyes and lighting a cigarette to discuss.   It was unanimously deemed suspicious, if not scandalous.  Behaviors like this are squelched in the Foundation for the Support of Women's Work.  Soon they were on the phone taking action.

Before long I heard the roofer's raised voice echoing down the staircase until he came into my office exclaiming and proclaiming to me indecipherably.  The ladies shot me looks of solidarity, disbelief, and "oh my god." They took care of it and told me later his statement was that he was not the telephone perpetrator, it was one of his workers whom he had already fired for bothering me.