Part 23

The hand that holds the carrot

first morning ice
Mornings are getting much cooler now in Prescott.    This is the first morning I rode into town wearing a hoodie.    Its the scarlet hoodie that Jana bought for me a number of years ago from one of her retail jobs.    Much worn and faded now.    This hoodie has had much use as Bandon weather gear for most people who live there is a hoodie.  

Temperatures in Bandon range from the low 50s in Winter to the high 60s in summer.   Pretty much cool and breezy most of the year.   Coastal weather.    During the rainy season November to April, when it is not raining, most folk wear hoodies.    In summer when it is not raining with all the wind it is usually a hoodie as well.   Bandon is a hoodie town.

This being Arizona, the temperatures do warm up in the afternoon, so I am thinking that from here on in I might shift my rides from morning coffee rides to afternoon Tea rides.    This way I can still get my daily exercise in, in order to counterbalance the muffins and scones I ingest once I get to the coffee shop, which has been an indulgence of late that I am working now to wean myself off of.      I have found a great bakery here as well, and that is just plain crazy and dangerous.

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I am still debating whether or not to cart this Trek bike back to Bandon with me, but am leaning heavily toward expending the effort.  It's been a good bike.  They sell bike racks on Amazon starting at around 30 dollars and I am thinking it will be worth the expense.  

I am not sure said bike racks will work on the mini cooper, but I am pretty good at jiggering things to my purpose and am hoping this will be the case with the cheap bike rack.  I already have a pretty good Thule bike rack back in Bandon, despite it getting on in years, but maybe this Amazon one will find a use for itself when I get back, either for me, or for someone in need.

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I am trying to watch the best shows on Hulu, Disney+ and Apple TV while I am here at Jill's because I do not have those streaming services back in Bandon.  Watched another movie last night about an older guy finding love in the twilight of his career and his life.   What is is with all these older guy movies I am watching.   It's like never having  heard of a word before, then suddenly coming across that word written down 3 more times in the following 24 hours.    Like God pointing his finger at you.   What did I do?     I know it probably has more to do with me selecting these movies than these movies finding me by chance, but still.

Finding love in the twilight.   Not much chance of it this far down the line.   Like romance novels for bored housewives sitting on the beach, stuck with watching the kids, and dreaming of more.    A moth drawn to a flame.  Dark selfies.  The other self as the bearer of the stick that holds the carrot.    

The middle aged woman  - who has given up on ever finding love - sitting on the bench alongside the infinite river, looks up and smiles weakly as the man tries to convince her that she should give their relationship a chance

I’m not going to do it. I’m not going to do it, because it’ll hurt. . . . and I won’t do it. . . .You see, what I think it is, is . . . is that I think I’m more comfortable with being disappointed. I think I’m angry with you for trying to take that away.

She pauses, reconsiders, and then asks "How could it ever work?", and after a moment he replies "I have no idea.  But it will".

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I would like to unpack at some point why stories resonate and are the great motivators in people.   What evolutionary survival mechanism is it that our species clings to and responds to stories? (and music for that matter).

Perhaps we find meaning when we can plaster someone else's poetry on top of our own messy lives, as if there is a sliver of a chance that maybe we can make sense of it all.   Of any of it.



 


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