Not much changes around here in a week. It is Wild Wednesday again and I am still trying to put as large a space as humanly possible between myself and the laundry. I cannot understand how it is, my kids always seem to run a muck half naked, and still there is a turn-over of muddy outfits like it is nobody's business.
I am between cycles so now is a good time to explain the concept behind wild Wednesdays. Because, my mind is fresh on bikes and bikers and old biker babes, from that little visit to the Elko Jamboree last week, a favorite wild woman/Wednesday story of mine comes to mind. Picture this...
It is the middle of summer in the middle of the Midwest and I am in the middle of my second pregnancy. I find myself in the truck outside a store that faces a river tavern, which banks the Mississippi.
I am alone in the hot stickiness except an acquaintance, whose acquaintence has gone in after ice, beer, I have no idea what else. Everybody else on earth is at work or whatnot, because it is probably Wednesday.
Anyhow, I have a hot thirsty eye on the bar, and was halfway through a tumbleweed wish that I was not pregnant. Out comes this older woman (over 65) in full biker babe regalia. She has the whitest hair you ever saw, black chaps, the leather jacket, the black tank top minus a bra, a little-bit leathery skin, and a big old tasseled biker babe purse. In one hand she carries her drink, which has been put into a "to go" plastic cup. Her friends, are sort of holding on to her, and kind of guiding her toward a vehicle.
I say, sort of because, just as I took notice of this woman and her obvious merriment, she bit dust. Her knee high leather boots gave way to the gravel parking lot. She lay flat on her back, head laying on a rock and her giant purse is now 15 feet away. Her friends stood over her, probably looking for blood. In her hand was the cocktail, which was at the end of an arm that was strait up in the air. I am sure she had to be bleeding about the elbows, but she flops herself over and manages to somehow stand back up.
She holds out her drink to her friends as if to make a toast. "I did int spill!" I can hear her across the street. And, I think, what a morning the group must have had, if to judge the spectacle, debacle and debochery that has now peaked before the sun even.
I was just getting ready to yell out the window, "You go girl!" when the acquaintence next to me said, "Oh, that poor woman!"
Poor woman? O my gosh that woman was having a freaking blast! I was probably glowing nuclear green from jealousy. Did I mention I was half pregnant and it was mid-way through summer in the mid-west? Yes, there was sweat pouring out of places on my body that no human sweats from!
"Well, I better be having that much fun when I am that age," I told the acquaintance, "Because, I am NOT having ANY fun right now."
Years have gone by and I still think about that wild woman outside that riverside tavern every so often. I love old biker babes and their audacious way they carry on the unexpected while the rest of us are headed to the laundry room or cubicle land.
It also brings about what should be wild on Wednesday and why we are set to celebrate wild Wednesdays as often as Wednesdays come, here on the Dancing Tumbleweed Blog.
Life being mostly work is not usually fun. Even though I do not have a regular work week, it is not impossible for me to feel frayed by Wednesday. I have been to the office so I know some of you will be out to a meeting or other enterprise until dusk. Wednesdays are long and most of life being driven by unfun work, it is good to take a minute, between cycles, to just be wild on Wednesdays.
So, on wild Wednesdays at the Wild Nevadan HjB, anything goes. Wild Wednesday posts are for you to enjoy an unexpected break from your day with one of my wild moments. It is a mini decompression machine. It is hump day, wildnevadan style.
So where did I leave that old biker babe? Not in the gravel parking lot! Back to her: she was right in the middle of a wild Wednesday but I would hazard, regret came later or the next day. So, as sad as this sounds, wild Wednesday is not about going hog-wild. Dang it.
Alright, its todays wild Wednesday confession time.
I'm calling it "these three jeans."
Did I mention I have an overwhelming pile of laundry which multiplies within the confines of my laundry room? Well, I do.
Have I mentioned before how much I hate laundry? Well, I do. (Sometimes, when I hit the button on the dryer I fantasize that I dropped a match on that load instead).
And part of this huge mess that seems to always be my Wednesday is these three jeans.
I do not think anyone will argue that I have not worn them out past their usefulness. The knees and asses are g.o.n.e.
I took a good look at them this morning and figured one more time through the cycle of life that leads to the washing machine and dryer will vaporize them into jean dust. And, an unexpected thought came to my wild mind...
Yes I did!
Because, it is Wednesday and I am wild like that!
And now there are three less jeans to wash!
Have a wild Wednesday and thanks for reading,
June 22, 2011