3.

Newly born yet still

always together

she nestles softly with me.

Soon able to see more than

only my face

she watches the world from my arms.

Walking, then running

climbing and flying

she continues to stay within reach.

Time inexorably

chasing her closer

she leaps off the edge into 3.

 And she got a party, of course.

And there was feasting and family.

          Gramma Linda, lookin' cute!

 

 The brand-new three year old was plied with many faboo gifts...

More than she could really take in all at once.

we're talking a frenzied flurry of frantic unwrapping.

 This year's cake. (Oh, how I miss the Thriftway bakery)

The wish.

 The Astronaut.

 (Space helmet crafted by big sister Raya.)

Yes, the Birthday Post was a little late again!

This year I blame our computer.

You won't believe how clumsily I have to craft this,

just try blogging without most of the useful add-ons

and a fault5y6 key6board.

can't even get spellchecker to work!!

  

If you bike Urbania during the deep hours of the night long enough, eventually you will race a coyote.  You'll pass beneath the rookeries where the herons sleep. You'll encounter hobos in the thin nests they've fashioned themselves to wait out the darkness. And you will note the location of every 7-Eleven in a twenty mile radius of town, because, where else are you going to get nachos and a Slurpee at one A.M.?

 Over this last summer, a community of people who shared a love of biking and a lack of daylight hours in which to ride, coalesced into a loosely formed gang of Nyte Ryderz. Nearly every night at ten thirty people showed up to ryde for a couple of hours through the chilly ether of evening.  And something awesome did happen.

 Riding my bike purely for pleasure was a novelty to me. Or rather, the adult me.  As a kid, I rode everywhere, all day.  Often for no reason at all other than to range about with a group of friends.  For years now, my bike has been used primarily as my transportation to and from work.  Or running easy errands around town.  Mostly trying to keep my car off the road and work in a little exercise.  I'd yet to do much in the way of aimless cruising.

 My first night ryding, a friend, probably noticing my huge cheesy grin, said, "Isn't this fun?"

And it was.

Way more fun than I had anticipated.  I am not really sure why.  Maybe it's all the little unexpected things that happen on a ryde.  Maybe it's the thing itself;  A group of people, exploring together a familiar environment rendered alien by black shadow. Sharing the small thrill of discovering a swaying, bouncing bridge spanning a sluggish slough. Scouting trails, pathways and shortcuts from Boeing Field to Kent.  I can't make someone else know how satisfying a dozen sets of bicycle tires bump-clanking over the various metal covers set in sidewalk and street sounds.

The air is cool, damp and quiet.  Businesses are mostly closed.  Vast parking lots near empty.  Car traffic is slight.  On the streets, we spread out.  Knots of two or three people casually merge and separate, threads of many different conversations spun and stitched together during the night.  (Not all the talk is for tender ears, boyz will be boyz.)

We have breaks. Finding a sweet spot to sit a spell always pleases us and we have several named:  The Grotto, Basketball Court, Grassy Knoll.  Visiting a convenience store is also popular.  Loading up on junky snacks and candy shared out in the parking lot.  The dumpster rats, plump and bold, sitting on their haunches, wee paws praying that we are messy eaters.

We challenge each other to learn new skills, and admire those that can easily jump off warehouse loading dock ramps and pop wheelies.  ( I myself recently mastered the bunny hop.)  We take our bikes off-road through brambles and ruts.  Zip down steep, grassy hills just dare-devil enough in the dark to make your eyes shine and your throat fill with laughter and fear without being properly dangerous.

We make our eventual way back to the Source.  Back into our own small town.  Back, for me, to my warm bed, family, bills and grown-up self.

Of course I can't speak for any of the others, but I know this is what I loved best; That I was playing.  Just playing.