Saturday...

Saturday,
There is something beautiful about having a day where I don't have anything I NEED to do. Sure, there are plenty of things to get done and many of them do get done, but there is no schedule. It is something where I am not bound to the clock and where I can get things done in the time that it takes and not have to worry about it. I'm very thankful for Saturdays.

I made my first payments on my college loans. yay.

Tomorrow, I have to lead a lesson for the young people in my church. Hopefully, that goes well. The topic is going to be on getting out of our comfort zones and evangelism and what that means. We'll see what happens.

I was kind of down last night. Today, I was going to start my flying lessons. My words can't describe how excited I was to get started. Finally, after all these years, I am going to start the thing I wanted to do ever since I could remember! But, after work, I checked my email and was notified that today was not going to work... the excitement fell from my limbs. I have to wait another week? (sigh) Ok, I guess.

This week, we have been working about half an hour a way from home. On the way to and from work, we cross over I-90 and one day, I looked down at the cars running back and forth along the veins of the country and the trip was brought back to me. I do miss the feeling of the open road. I miss the wind, the destination and the trip: the smells, sights and sounds. My sight caught the horizon to the east and I thought of Boston and the Atlantic coast and then my gaze followed the asfalt to the west, and visions of the mountains and a sunset over the Pacific Ocean flooded into my memory.

Along with that, I "winterized" the Goldwing this week, at least partially. It hadn't run in almost 2 months, so I wanted to start it, warm the engine up and run some seafoam through it. After some messing around, exchanging batteries and jumpstarting, the engine fired. A cloud of blue smoke rolled out the tail pipes and then she purred like a kitten. Sound has a funny was of bringing back memories. Hearing that engine was like interacting with a friend you hadn't seen in years. The same familiar pur I had heard every day for 3 months and the life of the beast that had carried me around the country, now sprung through my ears once again. My eyes closed and I saw the mountains, winding roads, the ocean and deserts. The same smells, sights and sounds came to my ears as the sight of I-90. Off in the distance, the soft clanging of a buoy bell, bouncing on the ocean, could be heard over the slow crash of the waves...