The bicycle lifted off the ground easily. I only used one hand. It weighed very little. At least, the bike weighed much less than the last bicycle I’d taken for a spin anywhere.
Anna Sale wondered if at some point in the coming weeks of not spending, as the variety of food in my kitchen cupboards began to narrow, if I’d ask for help.
I began my five days of the online New Year, New Uke ukulele camp, hosted by Virginia singer/songwriter Caroline Scruggs, like most everybody else did — with a quick, little video explaining who I was to the rest of the Facebook group and describing what I hoped to accomplish.
The little black case sat at the foot of my bed through Christmas, untouched and unopened like a gift from an aunt who tends to send potholders covered in cat hair or bags of razor-sharp ribbon candy.
The text from The Red Cross sounded frantic. In bold type, it read, “Critical Need! You’re now eligible to give.”
Sometimes the only way to make it through a difficult holiday is just to push on through — kind of like Clark Griswald in “National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.”
Chris Higgins looked at the bundle of pine needles, cypress twigs and magnolia leaves in my hand and he tried to be kind.
Women in masks and compression shorts watched me as I took off my jacket and kicked off my shoes on the second floor of the Butch Hiles Brazilian Jujitsu gym in Charleston.
Dried out bug corpses floated to the surface of the water. They came up whole and in pieces — a single, thin leg or maybe an antenna rested on an air bubble. The bubble popped and the bug appendage drifted away toward the side of the bucket.
Every now and again, someone asks me what’s been my favorite month? What’s been the best thing I’ve done with “One Month at a Time”?