Random Thought

In a way, crosswords do harm by cluttering up the mind with an aimless heap of unusual words selected purely for mechanical exigencies and having no well-proportioned relation to the needs of graceful discourse. ~H. P. Lovecraft

Sadly, I love crosswords......

Naive Wisdom - a poem

Broken promises lie scattered at my feet; an aching fills my empty heart.
Hopes which once were firmly grasped, lies have ripped apart.

Unanswered questions invade my mind; seeking answers never to find.
I close my eyes in anxious vain: never to trust again.

Naivete begets wisdom.

What is it with the color pink???? I hate the color pink! Or at least, I thought it did. I have always been the kind of gal who wears black and brown and blue, and various shades in between. I have been known to have some other earthy colors in my wardrobe, such as burnt orange, but pink was never one of them. It's a sissy color! A color for bimbos and girls who add 2 + 2 and come up with 5.

But in the last year or so, pink has kinda been speaking to me. So much so that I traded in an orange gym bag for a pink one. Did you hear me??? PINK! Its a soft pink, baby pink if you will, and sooo cute! Reebok brand with gray accents. And I have some dark pink wicking shirts, bordering the color of fuschia, and they don't clash with the bag.

I can't believe I am gushing about a pink gym bag...... I need therapy.

I suppose before I get too far into this blog thing, I should explain what the whole “Bianchi Girl” thing is all about (for those of you who care to know). As you can see from my links, a Bianchi is an Italian made bike. When I first started cycling. I was riding a Giant OCR Limited. A very nice bike, but not fully fitted for me and not fully the “wow” factor.

As I got more into cycling, and knowledgeable of what I wanted and liked, I kind of gravitated to the Bianchi. I loved the look, the design, the quality; and though it’s a fairly common bike in the cycling world, its not one you see everyday. I tried to fight the desire for one. Convinced myself I could. But then my dearest hubby graced me with my very own custom fit, full carbon 2006 Bianchi 928, handmade in Italy.

Where the “Bianchi Girl” parts comes in is a little more jealousy based.

A local female rider whom I have never met rides a Bianchi as well. Not the 928, but a Bianchi nonetheless. And she is a strong rider. And she is fit, and lean, and cute, and rides with the confidence of a pro. I refer to her as Bianchi Girl. She has set the standard I want to achieve so that one day (hopefully soon) I too will be worthy of the Bianchi Girl title. And then I will lay waste to her and she can eat my dust!!

WASHED HANDS - a poem of youth

Lollipop kisses (sticky sweet) impress their nectar upon your whiskered cheek:
Your hand absently wiped away their adolescent aftertaste.

Despondent arms; outstretched for a reassuring (pretentious) hug
Grasp only the stale air of your indifference breathed upon my naively upturned face:
Smothered in incognizance.

Does it mystify?

That I have excommunicated myself from your well rehearsed pleasantries?

Your hypocritical attempts to condone justification of your displaced loyalty

simply compounds the situation.

Your bed is not mine to lie in; your rules no longer mine to follow.

Perhaps now you will be the one to recite fairytales on feather-filled pillows

as silent tears cascade down self erected barricades, puddling by your cheek...

Pray you never hear the lone hoot owl as he waits impatiently by your grave...