Mini-usha

Normally I wouldn't subject the three of you reading my blog to the everyday bothers, recounting the minutia of everyday life, but today was gooooood.
I woke up at 6am for no explainable reason, having procured 3 mighty disorienting hours of sleep. When I woke up I was sitting directly up in bed with my eyes wide starring at a clock that read 6:15, and being certain that I had slept in, first till 6 pm, and when the morning light and the position of the sun disputed this theory, then I assumed that I had slept through an entire day of work. Cursing the bastards who hadn't bothered to call me and mourning the job that I was sure that I lost, I rolled out of bed to deal with my landlady's dog, who had started to bark furiously at the first sound I had made. When I got down stairs all I could think to do is tap the top of his kennel reassuringly, being in no condition to deal with the savage animal within. that seemed able to hit every side of his enclosure at once, with a furious desire for freedom. It was in this state that my landlady found me, bleary eyed and tapping gently the moulded plastic above the snarling beast, contained in a linty T-shirt, boxers askew.
I hailed a good morning to her and excused my self with a grunt, it was at this time that I realised that I only had 3 hours, but hallelujah still had a job, and it was only the 11th. So I took this strange opportunity and dressed and extricated myself from my sleeping tomb, and took to the road. I had left my bike way out on park point 3 days earlier and I decided today was the day to retrieve it, so off my feet went, and on the road I encountered the following scene:

A couple on bikes rode by me, and then turned off up one of the side streets. They had kept perfect pace with one another moving like fish in a stream, but as the woman turned up the hill, I could hear from a block away her chain come loose and wedge it's self behind her cassette, in front of her spokes. She seemed to take it in stride at first and quickly flipped her bike over and began adjusting the chain. Her male compatriot in flashy neon hat and Jersey, hovered momentarily his left foot still in place on it's pedal. With out any out pouring of emotion she let her bike drop and then kicked it gently almost lovingly, exhausted. really she just picked the seat of the bike a few inches off the pavement with her foot and let it drop again.

They were to far away for me to hear but Flashy Jersey let out a frustrated exclamation of some sort, while Gentle Kick walked a few begrudging steps to the sidewalk and laid down. as she was laying down, I suddenly realised how beautiful she was, and hoped that she hadn't heard my stifled laff. It was on the same street that I had to turn on, though in the opposite direction, so it became difficult for me to look back at them. Flashy Jersey half heatedly trying to placate Gentle Kick, and help her back up to the social strata where she didn't make scenes in the street... As I walked I wondered what I would have done to cheer such a beautiful handful, and if it would be worth it.

I had been thinking about taking the city buss out to my bicycle, however the buss system in Duluth is a pain beyond measure. The people of the DTA seem to think that I don't need to get my bike at 7:30am on a Sunday, go figure! So I moseyed over to the hot dog dinner that also serves extremely cheap breakfasts, gobbled two pancakes and two eggs sunny side up, to provide me energy for the remaining 22 block voyage.
I retrieved my bike, and nothing much occurred till quite a bit latter...

Part II

I had attempted to wheedle a few of my friends out in the early mornings shortly after my first morning alarm went off, by early morning I of course mean 10-11, and while I put out several hooks no fish bit, so I did the only thing I could think of, the only thing that made sense, I returned to park point, and biked farther than I had walked, all the way out to the very tip, to pick berries. On my way there I ran into a friend's little sister who pointed me in the direction of the good berries, I knew already, but had stoped to investigate some spent raspberry bushes on the side of the road and she was kind enuff to point me in the right direction. I contemplated offering her a bagel when I discovered that she had a camp set up on the beach along the way to the berry patch, but decided that it was strange and condescending, even if it was a genuinely nice thought.

I continued on my way down past tourists and the little airport, down an old dirt service road until it became too sandy to continue on pedal driven propulsion. There I discovered that the raspberries everywhere were basically spent. I had missed them, but I had arrived just exactly in time for the first round of blueberries, and picked a small container worth for the better part of two hours, eating as I went so that until I was satisfied I didn't make much progress. while collecting I encountered a very old man with a gargantuan dong striding through the woods in only a red spedo and sneakers.
... Our eyes met
... Our hearts met.