Under the curse of "be careful!!"

My mother use to plague me with "be careful, dear" throughout my exploratory years. I got a pair of skates, which came with a "be careful, dear." And so I was. I was so afraid of skinning my knee that I couldn't skate backwards. This comes up a lot now because of "Birdie" my new Trikke. After my trip over the handlebars on my first outing, I still get a little nervous.

I was going out to carve the other day and two of my neighbors said, as I was walking through the lobby, "be careful!" I was spooked. I had decided if I got one more warning that I would turn around and at the foot of the TV, pull the covers over my head.

Well, nothing happened that day. I did think of my cousin Theresa. We never really met, I was a few months old and she was 5. Our families were together visiting our grandparents and Theresa rode her bike into the street, was hit by a car, flew 50 feet and broke her neck. She died in the street that day.

I grew up under the shadow of a dead girl. "Be careful, dear" was a real warning, based in muscle memory. It was an admonistration, a mantra to remind me of what might happen in one fast moment. It was a name put on a curse. "If you do something even a little unsafe you might be wiped off the face of the world. Sit still"

I've decided to shut my mother's voice up! I won't sit still anymore. Carve Diem is the new mantra!
photo by Randy Boyd

Fast Woman

Megan Fox makes me want to jump into the dyke end of the pool. She makes me wonder about dicks and twats and what sexuality is really all about. So what is it all about dare I ask? When I am surrounded by lesbians I start questioning my sexuality. When I'm around interesting men I have no questions, (interesting is the important word here). Is it like my friend StanLe says, are we just sexual, not straight or bi or gay?

I like the thought of being sexual, not putting a label on it. Don't we have enough labels as it is? I have been surprised by men who identify with being gay saying they consider themselves bisexual really, they just mostly dated men. Is there such a thing as straight-curious?

Why is it that when society freely explores its sexuality the elders think it's the fall of civilization? And if my straight friends read this, will they become uncomfortable being alone with me? No need to be unless you look like Megan Fox.

So, I have no answers, only questions, at this point. What a good way to see if anyone is reading this blog!

Happy Birthday to ME

Well today's the day I turn 53. Yikes! Lately I've been feeling 35. I think we all have a physical age and a mental age, you know the age we are inside our head. The age that dictates how we dress or act. So I'm 35, it's a good age, not too old or young for that matter.

I was very successful at 35. I had nice clothes, nice car, nice address. That was a long time ago. Back then I think I was mentally 73. I had nice things but the inside of my head was all messed up. I was steering towards a head-on crash with myself. I don't like to remember the old days. I just want the number.

So today I reclaim 35 for myself, and I will work hard at keeping the years at bay. That means eating well, exercising like the devil's on my ass, playing with friends and sleeping long. Oh, and taking my meds.

So happy birthday to me!
Photo by Randy Boyd

I got my Trikke!!!

Well, the day finally came and I got my Trikke!

I feel about seven years old again. Everyone I have eye contact with feels the same way. I am so visible on this toy. And I don't care.

It is a very hard workout, getting going. It's a lot of upper body strength, which I have none of and yet always wanted for survival in the urban wilds. After two days I'm already going 1/2 block then I just loose steam and momentum. But that 1/2 block is kick-ass fun!

I definitely forget that I am 52+ when I am maneuvering this thing. I look at it like my fountain of youth. I can't wait to be going around the block, or grocery shopping or to my doctor's appointments with this thing. I can't wait to be just cambering along the ocean bike trail at sunset. All these things are in my grasp. The possibilities run through my bulging fingers from the pool of my hand. Or something like that. I didn't mean to get all deep and shit. I just couldn't help myself.

So back to my Trikke. I wonder what her name should be. She is a matte blue, I think very unusual and understated like me (well that's what I suspect anyway). Maybe The Terror of Upper Pine, Age slayer, Fat Buster, Dream Catcher or even just Zoey. I'll figure it out eventually. Updates to come...
photo by Randy Boyd

Revisiting "Cougar"

A few posts back I was adamant about not being labeled a cougar. I thought it a pejorative term and quite unflattering as well. And so I guess as a cougar might eat almost any live meat, I must eat my words. Let me explain...

I was riding on the shuttle, the smaller version of a bus in my town. It travels along Ocean Blvd. and connects two beach cities. There are usually some very delicious young men on this bus. True to form, a young blond 25-ish man, with pouty lips and gorgeous cheekbones, got on the bus. I couldn't take my eyes off of him. I wanted to bite those lovely lips. I caught a stray thought -- "I could rip him UUUPPPPP!!!!!!!!! "

Uh-oh, Cougar! Now I understand why that term came about, and if the shoe fits, I will wear it.

So, I eat my words, and who knows what else, 'cuz a cougar's gotta consume!

Grannies with Herpes

I know they're out there. I'm almost-granny-aged and I've got them. Who knew they spread like sparks in a Santa Ana wind. Estimates were said to be 30% infected in the 1980's. We thought they spread from small fiery opal blisters. But no -- anytime, anywhere.

They don't spread on toilet seats. Can't get 'em in a pool. You don't need a passport to get them, just be out of condoms. It only takes once. And once they come, they stay like an unwanted friend on the couch.

Wow, how many little herpes soldiers did I disperse during my herky jerky sexual nights, when all it took was someone interested in hearing a poem I wrote. And of course some Stoli. All I can say is "sorry, guys."

So how many grandpas out there have the sores? I will never be able to look an older man in the eyes again...

Here we go again

Today I saw a woman pushing a cart full of bags. Her face was sunburned and lined. Her eyes were bloodshot and teary. Her nose was bright red. She had to be about 53 but she looked 68.

I realized she looks how I feel inside when I am on my down cycle. As I stated before bipolar II is sneaky just like the fog. It is a fog that creeps not only into my heart, but into my muscles as well.

Just when I was walking daily, it crippled me into submission. I just tripped. One day on the couch turns into five. My body just aches and there is no reason. I feel sickly. I sleep all day and am awake all night. I usually see both the sun rise and set during the same day.

Calls from friends go unanswered. I start contemplating the meaning of life. Again. I chain smoke cigarettes and I hate each one progressively more than the last. Why...Do...I...Do...This???

And the sugar I eat! Cookies, brownies, cakes, candy, candy, candy. I am diabetic, but I don't think about that while I'm eating.


"Just get out there, Jeri"
coach shouts. "Just do it!"

And I know, now I know, that all I have to do is to pull myself off the couch and take a walk. I don't even care if it's just a block that I walk. "Just get out there," coach Jeri shouts. "Just do it." And so I do. Finally, grudgingly.

I haven't walked for about 8 days now, but I am walking quickly. I am still strong. My pace becomes powerful. I keep going. Each block under my heels makes me feel stronger. I can do this. I can still do 26 blocks without any trouble! My body is still there for me.

I feel like shit because I eat shit (figuratively). If my body is my machine, then I perform as well as the meals I miss, or the ones I over-indulge during. Don't get me wrong, I love feeling on top of the world. And that is how I feel when all pistons are firing correctly. And I'm eating greens, blues, reds and yellows.

So the cycle continues. I'm climbing back up, I'm feeling better, I'm making phone calls. This time I was down eight days. I find overall my good days do outnumber the bad. I guess life for me is like riding out a storm, once the rain stops and the wind slows, I get my bearings, I no longer walk against the wind, and that always lasts longer than the storms.

Trying a Trikke

Tuesday was a magical day. StanLe and I went to South Bay Trikke so that I could try a Trikke and talk to Andy, at South Bay Trikke (SouthBayTrikke.com), about the details of the impending purchase. I got lessons on how to ride because one can't just hop on and maneuver "cambering". It must be taught. I also got to ride an easier motorized trikke which automatically corrects leg movements.

It was a blast! I was surfing through time and space, like a land surfer! I was gliding and rocking back and forth. I felt muscles I had long ago retired. But who cared? I couldn't stop. And this instrument was secure with two foot pedals and handle bars with hand brakes. I was getting praise on how quickly I was learning so I stepped it up.

Next lesson was circles and figure eights, which is a safety movement in case someone steps in front of the Trikke. I was committed to a circle and out stepped a car bumper. I panicked and cranked the handle bars in the opposite direction which made the trikke stop. It didn't stop me. I flew over the handle bars. Next moment... face hitting asphalt. Luckily my nose was there to stop my fall. It was also lucky that Andy is a fireman and knows what to do in an emergency -- keep me calm and apply ice.

I couldn't think, it hurt so much. I felt the blood and tears flowing down my face. All I could hear was "breathe Jeri, breathe." The ice felt good against my nose. And StanLe's strong hands on my shoulders kept me from flying off into hysteria. I didn't cry, I knew it would hurt too much.

I had to "get back on that horse" that bucked me off if I ever wanted to land surf again. So after about 30 minutes I got on the motorized version and rode safely up and down the street until the fear dissipated.

Special thanks to Andy and StanLe, they got me through a nightmare

experience. Even though I have bruises, I am once again dreaming about cambering.

My swolen eye... and fat nose

I'm a procrastinator

I have 5 days of dirty dishes in the sink. I keep putting off washing the dishes and now I have no clean spoons or forks or well, knives either. It is at this point that the dishes are piled about two feet high and it's starting to smell of old garbage. I'm noticing small fruit flies. I'm no good on my own.

I have a helper, Angelica, who is on vacation. So, it's up to me. When I do dishes, my back screams for me to sit on my ass. I do have a "condition" that makes my back so vocal, it has something to do with arthritis and fibromyalgia. So Angelica comes almost daily, to help me take are of my details.

I'm also a person who doesn't pay all her bills on payday. I shoot them out a bill a day. I like to think it's so I can hold on to the money for a few more days. It's still spent way before mid-month anyway, I don't know who I'm fooling. I also put off doctor's appointments, blood draws or physical therapy.

Am I sloppy or disorganized? I don't think so. I just know I would rather do things tomorrow, because tomorrow's a better day.

I acted all ghetto today

I passed a neighbor on the street, Tony. He taught some of us in the building about paper mache. He was a too talkative man with past glories that he was still reviving, so I lost interest. But before I did, after every class, he'd bum a cig from me.

So as I stated earlier, I passed him on the street today and he was smoking and I was wanting. So I asked for one. He looked at me like a two-headed pile piece of crap that fell from the sky. And he kept walking. That was when I shape-shifted into ghetto, and shouted at his back, "well, you've bummed them from me before!" It slipped out like a step on a banana peel.

He probably didn't even hear me with his ear buds inserted. But there were innocent bystanders present. I caused unwanted drama. I was visible and I don't like that.