Bugs, Guts, Glory

So counting bugs has proved to be alright. I'll admit I took the job so my parents wouldn't continue to pressure me to find one and this one seemed as good as any. I live in a little valley where the total population can not exceed 20,000 and they may even be an over estimate. However, there is a large amount of mint fields. I grew up here and had no idea. My eyes have been opened to how I never fully appreciated the beauty of where I live as I remained most my youth in the city and ventured out only for the occasional hike or camping trip. I didn't realize that there was such a vast amount of farmland and open area. I think I was always vaguely aware, but now it is painted in my mind. I would like to think that it is not unlike some beautiful landscape found in the green hills of Ireland or somewhere in Europe. But that maybe because I decided to stay home while many of my friends went off gallivanting across the globe, then again...

I recently was in a longboarding accident. The word accident sounds just so pitiful, but I really didn't it on purpose. I would like to blame the two guys walking through the cemetery with out their shirts on or how they didn't step out of the way when I made the corner and shouted "Look out!" I could also blame the fact that I made the turn even when I saw they were there, but I am of a one tract mind when it comes to these sorts of things and so I stuck with it. This accident has let me to reflect on how the skin is attached to the body and how it can be left behind if not carefully attired when longboarding. It has also helped me think of my mortality and thus my inevitable stupidity. What was I doing longboarding in a cemetery, I am not really sure the details are a little fuzzy now. After a couple a week or so of pussing scabs and a bruised ego I have come to be very grateful for my decision long ago to wear a helmet while longboarding.

Due to the nature of my job and my life at this time I have taken up a series of projects in order to occupy my time. I bought this glorious bike made in London, England. I want to say it is a pre 1960s bike, but I am uncertain. All I know is it is a beauty and it it was mine for two dollars at a local yard sale. Oh what a fine day that was. This project involves me learning about bikes and how they work. So far I have cleaned the frame and replaced a tire. I do not want to paint it despite the chipped quality. I believe it is beautiful just how it is. The key now is to make sure my dad doesn't completely take over and so it will remain my project and not his. (Although his help is much appreciated and much needed.)