Charged

That's what we must be, what I must be: charged. All the getting ready has led to the writing.

Adults contemplate. We worry, consider, pause, and analyze at length. And, I, very often, enjoy the exercise and the safety in this. It sometimes just feels like my way, but, it's time to throw some things up here. Actually writing is better than thinking about writing and talking about writing. 

I know we're full of so many stories, thoughts, opinions, and dreams. Ideas are immediately available. Inspiration is like the water from the sprinklers we ran through as children. The water was shocking, refreshing, and drenching. We screamed and felt very alive. Squeak, squeak the knob is turned to the left. Let's go!

Put it in the wind, Montgomery

I am a slave to my Honda's tortuously designed battery compartment.

I convince myself I can remove the battery, top the water levels and replace the battery in 10 minutes, no big deal. In fact it usually takes 30 minutes and sometimes involves spilling a bit of battery acid on myself. I always forget to factor in the 20 minutes it takes to put the battery back into its compartment, and the two minutes it takes to walk away and clear my head.

I could splurge on a sealed battery that doesn't require topping off, but I learn something new about my bike each time I take the side panel off and wrestle with a part or two. Today, I removed what I deemed an unnecessary part. We'll see who's right, Honda, but the impossible battery housing is your first strike.

Starting this blog with my friend Lucia has hit some serious anti-momentum that makes the battery ritual look like a walk in the park. Well, anti-writing momentum, but pro-living momentum (such as getting married). But I am poised over this keyboard ready to crack open my thoughts and see what inspires -- hopefully it won't all be about batteries, but that is what starts the machine after all.