Instinct whispered in my ear, "Girl, you need to rip that up. You drew better than this when you were in grade school." Pride hollered, "OMG! How can you even THINK of posting this hotter -than-Texas mess???" Embarrassed, I closed my Moleskin, tucked it on the bottom of my paper necessaries, and moved on.
It began with this quick sketch. I realized it was in trouble when the realization that no bike ever looked like this smote my brain. My head ached really hard when I had to admit that third leg did nothing to give an impression of peddling. Those tail feathers look like streamers. The outside leg could not find a pedal! Those ghostly unfinished images look like they're hanging their head in shame, or else they don't want to be identified.
JC, my cheering squad of one, tried to make it be something it wasn't. He said the bike was a new design for racing bikes. See why I hug him hard enough to make his ribs creak? He missed that third leg. (grin) There comes a time when a body has to know when to let go though, right? You don't have to necessarily let go of the thing since you can always start over, but you have to let go of your pride. We learn more from the mistakes than successes--seeing as how mistakes make success possible. I can draw a passable human riding a bike; what I'm not good at is drawing a cartoon bird on a bike because lines blur, but I tried. And tried again.
Yes! I did it. I sent mail to Rio. My goal is to send as many congrats as I can because I hope the odds of my mail making it increase due to sheer determination, faith, and volume. I call it covering my bases too. I get my lap desk, position my tools within easy reach, and go with the flow while I watch the Games. Things don't go well when I try too hard. Performance anxiety? Probably. Persistence pays off though. JC mailed five gold wishes for the women's gymnastics team several days ago. Last night I did twelve postcards meant for todays mail. My sore neck proves it wasn't a dream. It didn't happen because I forgot to take pictures before JC left. There's always tomorrow.
So. Yes, I made scrambled eggs when I was going for easy over, but just like those Olympics athletes, I shook it off and continue to go for gold. My gold? Knowing Teams USA members 've written to will get my mail wishes, or it will come back to me with a Rio postmark. Am I only dreaming? No matter. Just like those seven little guys who whistled while they worked--I'm grinning instead. This is fun!
My mail is stacking up nicely; not toppling mind you, because I sneak in a few replies during events such as rowing, rugby, men gymnastics, table tennis, trampoline, archery, badminton, boxing . . . This is the first day I've not gone out. A first in awhile! JC caught whiffs of cabin fever at the onset, and we've been gone most of the day for four in a row. The post office is always first, or last as we make our way homeward. On this day I waited for him to bring the international postage stamps for the athletes in Rio. There were none. So we drove for miles to the best little post office we know. They have everything.
My chariot. A Texan is in big trouble if they leave children, pets, or senior citizens in a vehicle even if the windows are down. I cannot help but wonder which category JC assigns me. Hmm. Since we need a step ladder for my exits it's easier to leave me in the car with the a/c on. I do enjoy the cooled seats. Please don't tell. An elderly couple died from heat; their a/c didn't work. Without a thyroid gland, I am even less able to tolerate heat; my thermostat still does not work well which translates in a need to work harder at staying cool. I hope y'all are cool in every way.
Hydration is key. Iced hydration is key-er. Writing letters, notecards, and postcards inside while hydrating with iced liquids is as keyed as I can imagine. If you can top that without being in a pool or atop a mountain . . . let me know. Write on. Write like you're going for the gold!