hum

There’s Bradley my husband, who is good, considerate, patient, kind, brilliant with the kids. And then there’s Bradley the cyclist, who’s a bit of a twat.

It has the unique virtue of yielding a rate of speed as great as that of the horse, nearly as great as that attained by steam power, and yet it imposes upon the consciousness the fact that it is entirely self-propulsion. In the nature of the motion is another unique combination. With the great speed there are the subtle glide and sway of skating, something of the yacht’s rocking, a touch of the equestrian bounce, and a suggestion of flying. The effect of all this upon the mind is as wholesomely stimulating as is the exercise to the body.

We all do that; we put things off because we don’t feel we’re entitled to do it. Unless you’re one of the few who have no demons.

[…]

With a good therapist, you can achieve anything.

Much as I’d like to think that kitsch has no purchase in my world, it’s found its way in — and it’s sleeping on my rug.

Ceil and I gossip in English while, a few trees away, Erminio and his brother-in-law banter in Veronese dialect, laughing constantly.