This afternoon, with the Pacific Ocean splashing up on my right, the cliffs towering on my left, traffic smothering me on all sides, and tears streaming down my face, I sang “Blest Be The Tie” alone, and tried not to add another tally to the ridiculous statistic of PCH crashes. I don’t tell you this to garner sympathy. I tell you because, a. It’s a funny picture. I felt ridiculous, even as it was happening. b. To remind everyone that I am, in fact, a girl, and that I do, in fact, miss you all very, very much.
Now, in case I haven’t humiliated myself enough on the internet, I’d like to share another story from this weekend—one that will hopefully have more applicability than a 20-year-old woman bawling like a 20-month-old. Last night, my family sat around debating whether or not to go see The Great Gatsby.
Somehow, Cooper prevailed upon me to play video games with them instead. Right up there with my inability to dance, whistle, and display appropriate emotion is my inability to play video games. I just pray thanks that I was born a female. Anyway, I got suckered into about four rounds of some awful superhero-fight-club style game. I am pretty sure I lost all of them (except one against my mom…). That’s not the embarrassing part. The embarrassing part is that after those four rounds (about 2:00 minutes each), my left thumb had formed a significant blister. This is not a joke. I have photographic proof. I was not only pathetic enough to lose video games to my mom, I actually had a blister from playing 10:00 minutes of the ps3. I am sure you can imagine the humor that this little stunt provided the rest of my family.
This episode was reminiscent of The Time I Learned To Ride A Bike. This is not to be confused with The Time I Taught Andrea To Ride A Bike At Age Eighteen, although that was a blog-worthy story too.
No, I learned to ride a bike way back in Olympia, Washington, at the age of Seven. The blip was that I learned to ride at the same time as Cooper. Now, Cooper had been chasing me since before he could walk. Literally. Seriously, though: for some reason, mom put him in a walker at the tender age of a couple months, and he would wobble all over the house chasing me around. So, I am sure that you can imagine the implications of Cooper on a bike. Whether intentionally or not, he ran into me countless times on that first harrowing bike day. Honestly, I am not sure how I made it through that day without having a heart attack. We have home video footage of it (as we do of all the episodes of my Especially Awkward Days) (Let’s be honest, all of the days are pretty awkward). In this video, you can tell by my posture that I felt similar anxiety to a Nascar Driver. When I finally went inside that day, I could barely move my hands, I had been holding the handlebars so tightly. Whether or not I had blisters from my day of bike riding, it sure felt like it.
That’s kind of my default, though: holding on as tight as I can and hoping I don’t fall down, or get thrown through a wall by the villain, or whatever. But that’s not healthy. Or beneficial. Or fun. And in reality, Cooper probably will run me over, the Joker will probably set me on fire, regardless of whether or not I am worrying about it. But that’s part of life. Falling. Having people run into you. Being thrown through walls (uh…). So why not enjoy the rest of it? So here’s to the next 20 years being blister free, even if I do get a few more scrapes.