When a transportation choice becomes my primary mechanism for coping with completely unrelated stuff that kinda sucks

Recent growth.

A posted a few weeks back that I quit my job and that, as Martha Stewart would say, was a good thing.  I'm was able to do that because Bob and I decided to sell our house; short sell it, actually, because this is, after all, Arizona, and we bought at the absolute top of the market.  We decided and go ahead and proceed with a short sell because we need our lives to change and one way of making that happen is for me to go back to school and pursue a Masters in Social Work in order for me to return to a previous career in which my previous Masters degree in Art Therapy is not longer sufficient.  It's either the house or the rest of our lives.  We chose the rest of our lives.

Mountain desert refuge.

So in all my free time, I have been keeping the house in show-place condition and sprucing up the backyard to the splendor Bob and I created over the last several years.  The yard work put me in a bit of a funk, however.  Bob and I spent untold hours, but not a fortune, on hauling landscaping gravel, mulch, rock, shrubs, trees and native plants to the backyard to create a zen-like, xeroscape paradise outside our kitchen door where we can rid ourselves of the stress and occasional ugliness thrown at us during the day.  We found a firepit and a couple of wooden chairs that I stained myself to set out in the middle of the garden for after dark star gazing, wine sipping and chatting. 

The beloved firepit

It became quite the refuge, nearly replacing our front porch as our favorite spot in the castle, and we're really going to miss it.  I'm convinced the backyard might sell the house, and I admit that as I pulled weeds and cut back the growth that died over the winter I felt as tad bitter as I thought about someone else enjoying what the Planner Guy and I had lovingly built.  Oh, well, I tell myself, as long as we our living here we're going take pride in it.  And I press on with my labor.

Hand roll deliciousness!

Then at day's end of the Thursday, Bob phoned and announced that the evening was just right for sushi.  He was on his bike, pedaling over to Teppon Fuji for two for $12 maki rolls.  "I'm there!", I replied, and hopped on my Breezer to join him.

Bob and suchi await!

Ah, the late day sun on my face and the wind in my hair.  I pedaled down the urban trail and felt a little of the sadness leaving me.  We're moving forward.  We're headed in a new direction.  Good things are just around the corner.  We can do this.

For years, running was my primary means of stress management.  I loved running so grabbing my Muzinos took no effort.  A herniated disk and lately a possible torn meniscus in my left knee have kept me from running for several months.  But I can still bike, and I'm very grateful for that.  Biking has become a primary means of mental escape.  When we leave this house and go wherever we go next (we're not exactly certain what lies ahead) we will sell a lot of stuff (another good thing since we are striving for a life less cluttered with stuff and more so with experiences) but we won't sell out bikes.  They will go with us.  Now on my rides, between considering which maki roll to order, I am wondering where my bikes will carry me this fall.  What route will become my favorite; which will become second nature?  Will I see something along my new path that provides me with as much amusement as the prairie dog colony I pass each day on my way downtown?   Who will become the familiar faces who never fail to smile at me when I ride past?  And the most exciting question, where will me daily rides begin and end?  What will the necessities of day that I pack in my pannier?  Will bus or rail be a part of my trip.  It may sound odd but even writing these questions makes me giddy with excitement!

Tulips made a recent and welcome appearance on my usual route.

Hmmm. . . it may be some weeks or even a few months before those questions are finally settled.  Bob and I want them answered now but all we can do is wait and prepare to be flexible for what comes next.  Meantime, we're going to enjoy our backyard.  Friends, a bike riding family embarking on exciting changes in their own lives, are coming over for barbecued ribs tomorrow night and, if the weather cooperates, we'll move the old farm table in the kitchen to the backyard, light the fire pit and speculate on what the future holds.