Sunday, June 24, 2001.

Hatless Baldman Index: 48 (+1)
Inevitability Index: 38 (+1).
Drinking: Some sort of rice milk. It's good.
Saying hello to: Marcus (a.k.a. Speed Racer Xtasy).
At least there are 31 problems that you do not have, Marcus :-).

LIKE BUTTER

"What's the plan for today?" Amy asked this morning.

"I don't know. What do you want to do today?"

Another weekend off together! We could do anything today.

We decided to shower and eat at our favorite Chinese restaurant first.

Amy was a little surprised I wanted to sit next to her in the booth (which I do sometimes) instead of across from her. I think I tend to make the more romantic gestures in our relationship (although not as often as I could), while she is often the more practical one. Sometimes, even though I'm The Guy, I do wish it were the other way at times, so I kind of lead by example I guess.

I surprised our usual waitress as well by ordering something other than my usual Sweet & Sour Chicken. I just broke a ten-year habit there.

It was the kind of day where you just wanted to stay outside and enjoy all that summery love in the air as long as possible. So, afterwards, I suggested,

"Hey, want to get some ice cream?"

Amy got the butter pecan. I got the Reese's Peanut Butter ice cream. She acted perplexed when hers didn't taste good, to which I replied,

"Well, what did you expect? Who wants ice cream that tastes like butter?"

Peanut butter is different of course.

I still finished hers for her though.

SPEED RACER XXX

"It's so nice out today, baby. We should buy some bikes. Like today," I suggested freespiritedly. Amy liked that idea too.

We went to the ghetto Meijer's store near our place because we had no idea where a real bike shop was.

We found two nice and cheap bikes.

With no sign of help around, I took them off the ceiling hooks, adjusted the seats, opened a foot pump and inflated the tires in the aisle.

"I'm going to try it out," Amy said as she got on her bike and disappeared in the aisles.

As I started pumping the tires in my bike, the store person appeared, slightly annoyed, until I said,

"Oh, I'm going to buy the pump anyway. The bike too," I said.

She was a motherly African-American woman, and began cleaning up our aisle as some kids bounced a basketball nearby.

"Now what kind of parents bring their kids to a store and let them bounce balls like that?" she said to me.

"Yeah, this isn't a playground," I said, hoping Amy wouldn't come zooming around the corner on her bike at that instant.

The motherly lady smiled and continued to chat. I reverted to the "talking to older people" skills I've learned in the hospital and listened patiently, occasionally repeating one of the last things she said in agreement. I didn't feel her pulse or check for ankle swelling this time though. She called me "sweety" a lot.

By check out time, Amy had gotten two compliments on her old-fashioned style bike. She even tied a little wicker fishing basket on the front of it. She just needed some daisies and a parasol or something.

"Everyone's envious of my basket," Amy said.

Indeed, baby.

(Sexual remark repressed there.

Almost.)

A MAN AND HIS TOOL

Well, anyone who knows me knows I'm not exactly a handy man with regards to non-flesh things.

But I did maintain my bike in college fairly well. And I am somewhat familiar with those wrench and screwdriver things (haha) from all the installing and uninstalling devices on my computers in search of the perfect gaming machine.

(My SONY computer is built tight baby. Had a major hard time getting to the DVD drive components for my speaker cable.)

Anyways, we stopped off at the tool store and I felt my maleness rising to the occasion as I picked up those heavy cast-iron tools of dismantling and constructing.

I copped a feel of Amy's fine femaleness in the hardware aisle as well. (That made my maleness rise too, in a different way. Hardware, indeed.) I think some old guy saw us.

"We need one of these," Amy said as she picked up a cherry air freshener at the checkout counter. It smelled so good I wanted to eat it.

"You need one of these," I told her as I picked up a cannister of mace at the checkout counter. I doubt it smells as good as the air freshener. Mace mace baby.

(Amy had to tell me twice in the car, "DO NOT EAT THE AIR FRESHENER." But at least I asked first.)

 

THE ZEN OF TRON

After a few modifications, we finally went out bike riding. Not along trails or anything, just on the streets and sidewalks around our suburb. We biked back to the plaza and movie store a mile away.

I'd lean into corners with my leg out trying to simulate (poorly) a Tron light-cycle cornering at ninety degrees. Or duck under the lowest branches I could find like the Millennium Falcon escaping from the jaws of some giant asteroid worm.

It felt like my college days when I'd bike everywhere on campus. From apartment to class to arcade to class to student union to arcade to gym to arcade to home again.

Only this time I didn't have crowds of students to weave around for a class I was late for because of an "immortal" winning streak in Mortal Kombat.

Or pay a quarter to watch some unreal babe's tight buns and thighs doing bicycle kicks. I just let Amy ride ahead of me.

College was such a mix of freedom and uncertainty ....

Did I want to go to art school or medschool? Was I the right person for either?

Should I spend my student loans on tuition or blow it at the arcade and charge everything else? (As if this was a conscious decision.)

Theoretically, I could have dated anyone in college. But would I fall madly in love with her for superficial and wrong reasons and live to regret it after two kids and a failed marriage? Could she love me the way I --- Oh wait. That must be her boyfriend putting his tongue down her throat. Nevermind. (Scans the next library table....)

Am I EVER going to have sex?!?!?!

... Anything was possible but nothing was guaranteed.

Maybe I miss that freedom a tiny bit. But I don't miss the uncertainty at all.

On the way back, Amy and I rode side by side. White pavement below. Leafy green trees beside us. The blue sky above. My lungs expanding with the fresh air. The feel of sweat cooling in the summer breeze.

I felt that freedom again. Only this time it was even better.

I was free and with my Amy.

Without the uncertainty. Which is really what true freedom is all about.

_____________________________________________________________

 

MEDICAL FACT O' THE DAY

When you rise from a lying position to a standing position, about 350 to 500 mL of blood (one to one-and-a-half cans of Diet Coke in amount) redistributes from your head and chest to your legs and abdomen*.

This is one reason why people occasionally feel lightheaded when they get up too fast. It's often worse if you are dehydrated, drunk, inactive (even for a day), or older.

The solution is to get up a bit more slowly (sit first). And drink more water (dark yellow urine usually means you haven't drank enough water).

This can also happen if you sit on your ass and play video games for twelve hours straight, and then try to stand up. I've tested this theory out many a time. The things I do for science.

* (This drop in cerebral blood flow is usually compensated for by vasoconstriction, a slight increase in heart rate, vasopressin, and anti-diuretic hormone, among other things you would be a fool to read about unless you absolutely had to.)

 

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