Stream of Conscience

Of course, I can’t deliver the line as smugly as Charles Malik Whitfield, but you get the idea.  (Well, only if you watch Supernatural.  If you don’t, then start, dammit!)

I was out & about yesterday, instead of staying inside making little tiny pictures.  Went and got my semi-annual pedicure.  Then went to Old Town (or Old Towne or Olde Town, I can never remember which it is) Alexandria for a couple errands.  Picked up two watches I’d left for repair at the coolest jewelry shop in the history of ever.  One watch had been broken for a year.  I wore it to Texas last summer to see Jensen Ackles in “A Few Good Men.”  And when I went to change the time, the stem broke.  What a bitch.  And it was the first time I’d worn it.

Then I stopped by the comic book store to pick up episode 3 of “Supernatural Origins,” which I’d missed the last time I was in.  The smell of incense filled the room.  I mentioned that it took me back to my college days, and Howard (the owner) said “We’re all a bunch of aging hippies here.”   I knew there was a reason I fit in!  :D  I also wanted the latest magazine issue of the Supernatural magazine (5, is it?) but he didn’t have it.  Somehow we got on the subject of variant covers.  (Oh, I remember.  Each issue of the magazine has a “collectible” cover, one that doesn’t have any text on it other than the title, and I’d bought one last time without realizing it .)  Howard keeps his variant covers behind the counter in protective covers.  I mentioned the gorgeous one they’d had for “Supernatural  Rising Son” issue 1, and relayed the story of one gal who’d gone to her comic store the day it came out and the owner had already jacked the price up to $15.  (Of course she bought it!  I would have, too!)  Howard was outraged.  Or should I say “incensed”? Ha!

It was a beautiful day, and I saw lots of bicyclists everywhere.  I was so jealous, I decided right then & there that next summer I’d be back among them.   I used to ride a lot.  I thought nothing of coming home after work and riding down to Mount Vernon, 24 miles round-trip.  Which meant weekend rides were much longer.  There’s something about biking that soothes my soul more than anything else.  Maybe it’s the rhythm of the pedals and the wheels turning.  All I know is that when I get on the bike, my cares melt away within seconds.  Yep, my bike needs me.