Gray Day but yesterday was bright blue...

I have had a great weekend, Saturday and Sunday were perfect and I did my fifty mile motorcycle loop in great country and weather and puttered by the Harley-Davidson folks twice (Destination) I was so cool. Finish the day with the wife, wine and time well spent, completely forgetting I work in a prison library.

Okay I wake to gray skies, but still dry, time to get into the routine and increase my performance and I jogged in gray sweats, dark gray shirt and reflector belt, blue hand weights - get out and do it. When I return I call my mother and we talk a little bit, she never has her hearing aids in when I call, but the phone is flexible. I get cleaned up, and mount the Trusty Triumph, knowing that it may rain before I get home - still, I need to ride. There is a sixty-six year old woman out there in her eighth month of pregnancy, and it wasn't my fault - I realize how difficult it is to live twenty more years at the pace of an adult that must stay ahead of a growing child - evidently no one has told her and she wants it all. Strange that I think that doing exercises during commercials is the way to get myself ripped and hardbodied, and my friend agrees, but do I have the resolve to really work out during commercials? Well, what else is there to do - certainly not watch them...

I work through the afternoon and evening, library stuff, hearing that the White House has ordered the automobile companies to new mileage requirements - why don't they order everyone to walk? We would save so much fuel and be healthier. Oh, but Obama smokes doesn't he? So we know how smart he is, how much he cares about his children and how much he is doing to personally reduce carbon levels in the atmosphere - do you think the reason you don't see pictures of him smoking is media bias - or that they have been bought? Well, I did try to assist one inmate patron in finding books about the problems with smoking and how to quit. Found some, not as many as years ago, and gave him my personal story and motivation, but remember that inmates don't smoke - no tobacco inside the prisons - or any legal tobacco anyway. I chase everyone out, turn off the machines and lock up - it is waiting on me, the rain is back, Summer only a memory.

I ride home in the rain, one other fool rider out on the highway, but the bike performs and I roar and splash my way home. My wife opens the motorcycle door when she hears me coming and I do what she has wanted since I bought the motorcycle - I ride it straight into the garage - it means backing out tomorrow, it means I will be out of sync as the bike isn't in combat parked position, but then I never ride it out of the garage, just push it to the launch position like the Space Shuttle. It is good to be home, rain drops dripping from my soaked trousers - I will love hot medicinal soup and salad, hot coffee and WWE RAW. A letter waits from my mother, with her poetry, to read. Good night. Oh, and don't forget the commercials and the exercises during.