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Dang! if I haven’t been itchin’ to blog. No time, no time. Too busy livin’ to write about it. Got a moment, listening to The Killers Day & Age (love it, love it, love it), have my notebook open, and I’m down to business. This itchin’ to blog is a symptom of my desire to write more fiction, but having difficulty finding the time necessary to really develop an idea and stick with it long enough to see what kind of story comes of it. A blog post (or two, or three, or four) should keep me from going completely bonkers, so then ….

I went for my first motorcycle ride of the season, on the back of Hubby’s bike, that’s my perch. Big, old helmet-head. If we’re not going too fast, I keep the face shield up so I can feel the breeze – much needed with our near-90 degree temps today. I’m telling you, if there’s a heaven, it smells like lilacs. Not lilac perfume, mind you, but uncut, on the bush, blooming in the spring lilacs. As we rode past massive blooming lilac bushes, I sniffed up the scent. Nothing better, except maybe fresh-mown lawn with the hint of small gas engine.

If there’s a hell, I’m convinced it smells of creosote-soaked bridge decking. Our little pre-supper ride took us under an old railroad bridge that’s been converted into a recreational trail and I could smell the creosote wafting off it. Blech!

Did you know that all motorcycle license tabs in Minnesota come due in February? I learned that through observation. Hubby and I had to take his cycle to a repair shop this past Monday in order to have the clutch cable fixed and every licensed cycle on the showroom floor had plates with “Feb” stamped into them next to where the tab goes. Makes me feel a little like Sherlock Holmes to have figured this out. It’s the weird sort of detail that would be right at home in a novel.

Other than taking a cycle ride, working, and jonesing to write, what have I been up to? Ah, yes. There was the rock-picking last night. Hubby is leading an effort to start a community garden to benefit the Food Shelf. The garden plot was plowed Sunday. Before it can be tilled, big rocks had to be removed because it’s not good to hit them with the tiller. Hubby, Young Son, Daughter, and I did the requisite stone moving, with Young Son and Daughter impressing me with their strength. Daughter was adamant that she wanted to help with this task because she has heard some of her friends complain about how hard it is and wanted to experience the pain first-hand. To reward everyone’s effort, we purchased Icees at the gas station afterward.

The night before last (The Day of the Great Clutch Cable Repair), we attended Daughter’s last band concert of the school year. Wonderful show, first-class performance. Following the concert, Hubby’s parents treated us to dessert at a local restaurant. It’s a post-concert tradition in the family.

That’s what I’ve been up to lately and now that I’ve gotten that properly blogged, I’m feeling less goosy about getting to my writing. Whew!