Last weekend, the junior son and his wife presented me with a Mother’s Day offering: a bicycle. I was thrilled, since the bicycle presented to me on Mother’s Day the first year we were here in this house now lies in pieces on the basement floor, the hapless victim of an engineering attempt gone awry. I had been asking the assorted qualified bike repair personnel (one of whom had, for a time, earned his living doing bike repair) who happen to have resided under this roof to restore said bike to a bike-able condition. In fact, I think this was the first year in a while that I didn’t wistfully remark, “Gee, I would love it if someone fixed up my bike for Mother’s Day.”
So far so good. I've been riding around the neighborhood a bit, and have to admit I’d forgotten just how hard a leather bike saddle can be. And while the ankle twisted in that pre-dawn dog-walking episode is healing, it’s still a bit tender. I have no desire to ride in one of those en masse clubs; my goal is much simpler: I want to ride to work.
As for Mother's Day itself, I got to have a bunch of high quality chuckles on the phone with the senior son, and then we went over to the junior son and spouse house for a lovely dinner. My daughter-in-law makes some wicked good coffee ice cream! I won't even mention the almond macaroons. And of course any time spent with my grandpuppy is good time.
Got a new bike and wanna be really cool? They still sell handlebar streamers!
I gotta get me some of those!