Deadly Red Treadly

I have recently joined a social bicycle riding club.  Well, there is four of us now anyway.  I ride with my friend about every fortnight on weekends but this will be every week while she is at work. 

I have a "ladies" bike, no gears, wicker basket and a nice comfy seat.  It is red so it goes faster.  I bought it from a department store in a box and we put it together.

I am riding with real women who ride real bikes with real gears and those slinky riding jerseys.  I wear my pink Dunlop Volleys, leggings and over sized man's shirt.  Man I look hot!!  (Not).

I think the woman who takes us is gobsmacked - no gears?  What is that about?  You can see the lack of comprehension in her bulging eyes as she stares at the foreign body that is my deadly red treadly.  It does have hand brakes...

Anyway, we had our ride.  They took it quite slow until I enquired if this was their normal pace...it was so-o-o slow.  I think they thought my bike was handicapped.   Once the pace picked up a bit it was lovely.  Chatting, riding, chatting, dodging swooping, nest protecting magpies and spying mother koalas in the road side trees.  Beautiful.  I did ask for a couple of drinks stops, we red bike riders get thirsty.

On the way back I started to fatigue.  We red bike riders tire when riding against the wind but I made it back and was amazed to find out that we had ridden a whole 19km!!  Woohoo, I am so impressed with myself.  I survived the ride with NO gears.

I shall ride again with these real women.  Maybe they will convert me to gears, maybe not.  But I shall ride the deadly red treadly with a comfy seat with pride, puffing and panting and peddling for all I am worth.

Dry Ground

This was our paddocks one week ago...desperately needing rain.

Holy Hail Storm Batman!

Only small stones but they shredded the mango tree as you can see...

Bee Gees & Housework

The Bee Gees, Their Greatest Hits, Disc 2:  Cleaning the house with this music this morning I was a sight to see.

Striding down my newly vacuumed hall in my 80s ski jacket and unruly mop of hair to STAYIN’ ALIVE…no beard though.

Purple tracksuit clad bum swaying to the song MORE THAN A WOMAN as I sing loudly into the toilet bowl.

Reaching up to the shower rose with a pained expression on my face as I belt out the chorus of HOW DEEP IS YOUR LOVE.

Sweeping the detritus from my laundry floor and bopping around the sweeper to YOU WIN AGAIN.

And finally collapsing into my camping recliner in the sun of the back veranda and singing with weakening energy to GUILTY with Barbara Streisand and Bazza.  I sat through EMOTION and HEARTBREAKER before I decided enough was enough.

All the while my 19 year old son, who has been warned of the housework concert, is clamped under his doona, hoodie stretched over his head and most probably grimacing to my dulcet tones.

If you gotta’ do the housework, and eventually you do, it is not a bad way to do it.

Just love their stuff, talented little Vegemites that they be.

Brain Injury Anniversary - Whoa 7 years?

That anniversary snuck up on me a tad, wow it has been 7 years since I did the head plant from the back of my horse.  7 years of highs and lows, but mostly highs. 

I think I can safely assume that I will not make a full recovery any time soon.  I still have minor short term memory loss, concentration issues and just a LOT OF FATIGUE!  Not that it bothers me to have to sleep for an hour an a half every day, go to bed at 9.30 each night or suffer the consequences and heaven forbid if I spend too much time concentrating on anything because my brain goes onto Confusion Mode.  Aaah but it is all good really.  I have learnt patience, sometimes inner peace and acceptance.  I am not complaining, just making fun of it.

Funny story:  I met someone the other night who I recognised and they me but neither of us spoke for a few minutes until the penny dropped.  She is another brain injured soul and we laughed when we realised our mutual quandary.  This Fellow Headcase is only 2.5 years into the recovery - huh amateur!  And, me thinks is still fighting the affects of the difficulties associated with her injury, unfortunately.  I first talked with her when I was asked to meet her approximately 12 months after her injury by my ex-brain injury counsellor and I do remember thinking that she is not taking this lying down (so to speak).  I also fought my injury but in the end you have to accept what is and I feel she is not quite there yet.  We women are stubborn creatures.  I also feel that she looks at me and my "limitations" and dreads the thought of being me in years to come. 

But me and my limitations are doing alright.  I am very lucky to be employed by a large company that will take any hours I can offer (maximum 7 hours/week).  I have a loving family and the best of friends.  I am surrounding by beautiful countryside and have gorgeous pets.  I am not dead basically.  If you are not dead, you have to live and I believe I am not to be pitied as I saw in this Fellow Headcase's eyes. Good Gravy, give me hell, tease me senseless - I can take it, but do not pity me and look down on me, that I will not accept.

Our Garden

 

Dress Sense?

 

 

My teenagers and their friends on a typical night out.