oh heavenly day (all the clouds blew away)
Today my bicycle finally acquired a name.
I spent much of the afternoon at the library with Sarah, Hannah, and Victoria (Alessandra left yesterday to spend Pascha -- Orthodox Easter -- in Maine with her family), except for the part I spent doing yard-work (not entirely voluntarily, but Sarah and Hannah stopped to chat after church and Caroline stopped to chat and play with Leandra whilst walking her dogs), and the other part I spent running an errand to get sugar, and ask about hair dyeing materials at Sally's. The errandy bit was interesting, as it involved me on a bicycle dodging things and being berated roundly by the-voice-in-my-head (which has weirdly taken on many characteristics of Spike's; don't even ask) and, alack, getting my first tan of the season. I shall have to be more vigilant with the sunscreen after this.
Anyway, I attained a bag of sugar and rode downtown to the library with the bag dangling off my handlebars and thudding awkwardly hither and thither. I had my satchel with me, of course, but it was full to bursting with hardcover books for the library, and therefore not much help. We met up in the midst of the stacks and poked books at each other and were not very good at being quiet. I found some stray books, and Sarah found an Angel novelisation which amused us greatly. Later we wandered downstairs to watch the children while Mrs M went to the supermarket, with Sarah and some assorted youngsters. Hannah and Victoria and I somehow got onto the topic of The Death Of Moony The iPod, or The Cruel Murder Of Moony The iPod, depending on whom one asks, which turned into plotting out a murder mystery game in which we solve the mystery of Moony's untimely death and pretend to be other people and have silly names (I am Winifred Partridge, grieving -- so far as we know -- fiancée of the late Irving Podsworth; also I am probably a vampire, which is wont to cause trouble as the late Mr Podsworth was, as most of you know, a wereipod werewolf). Frodo-the-action-figure, for reasons only partially known, is a major participant in the proceedings.
There was then the traditional migration to Hockman's, and, as we headed out the door, several of us said "Quickly, to the Angelmobile, away!" nearly in unison, which resulted in a group effort to quote the entire monologue from memory. ("And prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!") Hopping aboard my bicycle, I had an epiphany, and cried out, "I've got it! I've been trying to name my bicycle for ages, and from now on, it shall be known as -- THE ANGELMOBILE!" Agreement and hilarity ensued. (And it's all true. I've been scrambling after a name for some time, as I've got to call it something when I'm shouting at it. I thought briefly about Serenity, but my bicycle could only be called such by the blackest of irony, as it has attempted to kill me on several occasions. The Angelmobile suits its crotchety personality and delusions of grandeur, and my sense of geekery and fangirlism OH SHUT UP.) This distraction enabled us to lose Sarah, who called a minute or two later from Hockman's scolding us for not being there. We scolded her for not being here, and I managed the feat of bicycling one-handed while eating an apple: rather suavely, I might add.
Then we bought a lot of chocolate, and the following dialogue also ensued.
ME: [has song stuck in head] Sarah, sing something!
SARAH: ?
ME: Sing something! Anything! Right now!
SARAH: Let me rest in peace / Let me get some sleep / Let me take my love and bury it in a hole six foot deep --
ME: ARGH THAT WAS THE SONG I WAS TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY HEAD ALL DAY, YOU TWIT.
SARAH: [smirks with the air of the well-practised smirker]
Then someone got to singing "Early One Morning" and I put my hands over my ears and attempted to eat Victoria. We're a lot of ridiculous geeks, we are. (Fortunately, so are the proprietors of Hockman's, so they aren't terribly worried.)
I bicycled home quite happily (despite "Rest in Peace" remaining firmly lodged in my head, forcing me to sing it out loud all the way home), satisfied with having had a great deal of exercise, and cosied up with a book and my newfound chocolate and the window wide open with the breeze coming in and Solas' live album (preparation!), with breaks in between to bake peanut butter cookies and eat some of them.
I am very fond of Saturdays.
I spent much of the afternoon at the library with Sarah, Hannah, and Victoria (Alessandra left yesterday to spend Pascha -- Orthodox Easter -- in Maine with her family), except for the part I spent doing yard-work (not entirely voluntarily, but Sarah and Hannah stopped to chat after church and Caroline stopped to chat and play with Leandra whilst walking her dogs), and the other part I spent running an errand to get sugar, and ask about hair dyeing materials at Sally's. The errandy bit was interesting, as it involved me on a bicycle dodging things and being berated roundly by the-voice-in-my-head (which has weirdly taken on many characteristics of Spike's; don't even ask) and, alack, getting my first tan of the season. I shall have to be more vigilant with the sunscreen after this.
Anyway, I attained a bag of sugar and rode downtown to the library with the bag dangling off my handlebars and thudding awkwardly hither and thither. I had my satchel with me, of course, but it was full to bursting with hardcover books for the library, and therefore not much help. We met up in the midst of the stacks and poked books at each other and were not very good at being quiet. I found some stray books, and Sarah found an Angel novelisation which amused us greatly. Later we wandered downstairs to watch the children while Mrs M went to the supermarket, with Sarah and some assorted youngsters. Hannah and Victoria and I somehow got onto the topic of The Death Of Moony The iPod, or The Cruel Murder Of Moony The iPod, depending on whom one asks, which turned into plotting out a murder mystery game in which we solve the mystery of Moony's untimely death and pretend to be other people and have silly names (I am Winifred Partridge, grieving -- so far as we know -- fiancée of the late Irving Podsworth; also I am probably a vampire, which is wont to cause trouble as the late Mr Podsworth was, as most of you know, a wereipod werewolf). Frodo-the-action-figure, for reasons only partially known, is a major participant in the proceedings.
There was then the traditional migration to Hockman's, and, as we headed out the door, several of us said "Quickly, to the Angelmobile, away!" nearly in unison, which resulted in a group effort to quote the entire monologue from memory. ("And prancing away like a magnificent poof is truly thanks enough!") Hopping aboard my bicycle, I had an epiphany, and cried out, "I've got it! I've been trying to name my bicycle for ages, and from now on, it shall be known as -- THE ANGELMOBILE!" Agreement and hilarity ensued. (And it's all true. I've been scrambling after a name for some time, as I've got to call it something when I'm shouting at it. I thought briefly about Serenity, but my bicycle could only be called such by the blackest of irony, as it has attempted to kill me on several occasions. The Angelmobile suits its crotchety personality and delusions of grandeur, and my sense of geekery and fangirlism OH SHUT UP.) This distraction enabled us to lose Sarah, who called a minute or two later from Hockman's scolding us for not being there. We scolded her for not being here, and I managed the feat of bicycling one-handed while eating an apple: rather suavely, I might add.
Then we bought a lot of chocolate, and the following dialogue also ensued.
ME: [has song stuck in head] Sarah, sing something!
SARAH: ?
ME: Sing something! Anything! Right now!
SARAH: Let me rest in peace / Let me get some sleep / Let me take my love and bury it in a hole six foot deep --
ME: ARGH THAT WAS THE SONG I WAS TRYING TO GET OUT OF MY HEAD ALL DAY, YOU TWIT.
SARAH: [smirks with the air of the well-practised smirker]
Then someone got to singing "Early One Morning" and I put my hands over my ears and attempted to eat Victoria. We're a lot of ridiculous geeks, we are. (Fortunately, so are the proprietors of Hockman's, so they aren't terribly worried.)
I bicycled home quite happily (despite "Rest in Peace" remaining firmly lodged in my head, forcing me to sing it out loud all the way home), satisfied with having had a great deal of exercise, and cosied up with a book and my newfound chocolate and the window wide open with the breeze coming in and Solas' live album (preparation!), with breaks in between to bake peanut butter cookies and eat some of them.
I am very fond of Saturdays.