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July 28, 2006 Was it really just last night that I was contemplating applying for a job at a healthy lifestyle magazine? Based on events that occurred this morning, I am officially taking myself out of the running. First of all, I take all responsibility for procuring the baby bike seat so that Jack, my wonderful 26.8 pound boy and I, could go for breezy, gentle rides. I imagined us coasting down the trails and in all fairness, chugging up slight inclines as necessary. What I didn’t conceive was the possibility of not being able to get out of the driveway without having to practice regaining my balance. Finally, after cycling around our miniscule backyard, we inched our way over the gravel and onto the road. After only a few short minutes, my femurs began to burn like embers, my back and face began to break out into a sweat, and my hands, thanks to my infantile allergy to rubber, began to tingle as they gripped the handlebars in a deathlike vice. To make matters worse, we hadn’t even arrived at The Crossings yet. The Crossings is known as the lovely upscale residential neighborhood down the road from us where all the people are friendly. Not anymore. Now, I prefer to think of it as a cesspool of hills, and a place where women call their children into the house as you walk your bike passed their overpriced home. Yes, I’m sure I looked menacing as I could barely put one foot in front of the other in an effort not to have Jack go careening over the side as I prayed that I would relocate the entrance to the godforsaken development that I had only entered five minutes ago. Perhaps our ride would have gone smoother if I actually knew how to change gears. Or the water bottle didn’t go flying off the bike. Or the three year old loosely wrapped bike lock, whose combination is unknown, hadn’t kept catching on my sneakers. Finally, there it was, the way out. I made my way up to the path, only to be met with further humiliation. The professional biker. He was clad in black athletic biking shorts, helmet, gloves and worst of all…the smug smile. Oh sure, as he went whizzing past he said, “Hi,” but I know what he was really thinking. “Hah, look at the housewife who takes a few Pilates classes a week and thinks she can actually go out for a spin and not pass out in the process.” I managed a cheerful, “Hey,” in an effort to appear nonplussed despite my face which was actually pulsing. Crossing the road, I breathed a sigh of relief in knowing that the only thing that separated us from the house was a downward patch of concrete. I have truly never been more satisfied to hear the crunch of gravel that lines our driveway. Jack and I parked the bike in the garage. I caught my breath and counted to three while I lifted him out of the baby seat. I wasn’t the only one who was a victim today. Even Jack made a beeline for the air conditioner, standing in front of it so that he could feel the cool air blow on his face and baby fine hair. 9:15 am. We had only been gone half an hour. To Whom It May Concern: In regards to the position you posted for the writer/editor position of the healthy lifestyle magazine…please disregard my resume. Sincerely, Karen Nelson. ------------ About the author: Karen is a frustrated eighth grade english teacher hoping to move into another industry soon. She lives in Northern New Jersey with her wonderfully supportive husband, beautiful son, and two psychotic cats. This is her first submission to Useless-Knowledge. Email: kmnelson58@yahoo.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com. Please link to this article rather than copying and pasting it onto your site (which would be unauthorized and illegal). |
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