Guys. It's pretty amazing what a few pain-free days will do for a person. Well, specifically for this person, anyway. I am enjoying not only the relief but what seems to be an attitude change as well. I feel more optimistic. Like anything and everything is possible.
But my expectations for the results of this epidural are seriously getting out of control. How do I know this? Because I made John stop the car so that I could look at a motorcycle sitting by the road with a for sale sign on it.
What a little beauty. Just looking at it made me want to hop on it, give the kick start a go, and zoom off. It was a small motorcycle just slightly larger than the one from my youth.
Back when I was a teenager, I used to ride one exactly like this while wearing a sparkly gold helmet that matched the bike's paint job:
Oh, man. I loved that motorcycle. Dad bought it for my sibs and me with the idea that it was to be used for practical things like checking fence lines and running in to the local tractor supply to pick up small parts, etc.
We did do those things on our beloved Yamaha Enduro, but mostly just drove the heck out of it. We had the perfect place to do it, too: Dad owned a couple of farms that adjoined and had miles of what we called "lanes" which were basically dirt roads on the property. And when I got my driver's license with a motorcycle certification, all the country roads in the area were suddenly all mine as well.
Sigh. What fun. Even though I had brothers and sisters, this zippy little gold-colored bike usually had my fanny on the seat. My older sister took a tumble on it once and wasn't thrilled with motorcycling after that, and my brother quickly decided that it was a wimpy bike and bought himself a big old Honda. Pffft. Whatever. I thought my little Yamaha was just perfect.
Fast forward to the present, when a plus sized, 56 year old woman riding a euphoric wave of nostalgia imagines herself astride a similar motorcycle, zooming around our little town. Can't you just see it?
What a fun little daydream that is...... ah, but it's time to come back to reality, Julia my girl.
Someday I'll buy my grandkids one.