all fly by in a blur.

While in California during the first weeks of June, Keri and I decided {largely upon my urging, though she was and remains enthusiastic} to kick a soccer ball around the back yard at my folk's house. Of course as most things do, our backyard kicking desired more space, and evolved into a bit of park kicking. As my wife, relatively nascent at this activity, did learn quickly how to put some force into her kick, she has been slower in developing accuracy. Needless to say, I suffered a broken finger from this sunny afternoon in the park. It is amazing to me how much one uses their pinky, and how much one doesn’t realize this fact before they break it. Such it is with all things I believe. We take them for granted. I do report that she is growing more and more adept with each time out.

And today, as I have typed many times on this journal, the rain falls. A cat sits by my side, and I can still hear the birds from my place on the porch. Perhaps they sing for the rain, and the onslaught of worms. And the Tour De France has begun.

Struck by the beauty of keri’s journals {really, they are AMAZING!!! They are what I have always dreamed of mine to become} I’ve begun drawing and painting in my own. I tend to grow frustrated with this, as my drawings always seem rather awful to me, but I do enjoy watching the pages turn from black and white to brightly colored. I’ve not really drifted off into the world of collage yet, as it seems every time I try that, the results are even more disheartening. My collage tends to just look like some stupid things glued on paper. They don’t even seem to have that childlike magic that so often comes with the haphazard feel of collage.

So for now I stick with the pen and the paper and the paints. The men on bicycles who ride faster than I could ever imagine riding. They really are a wonder of the world. And not just Lance Armstrong. All of them. Igor Flores of Spain, who is currently in 189th place, is after all only a little over 12 minutes behind. While he has no chance of winning, the race, there are very few humans that can ride a bicycle like that. An astounding feat. Just to be there. Someday, I intend to be there, on the roadside, watching them all fly by in a blur.

Posted by jeff pitcher at July 5, 2005 03:46 PM

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