This is known as The Funrise.

Chatty buzz fills office cubicles, laughs echo down high school halls, and the clock ticks a little bit faster as we all smile and get ready for a couple big days of

AWESOME!

Photos from: here

Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.

You’re late.

Racing, running, rushing, you’re checking your watch and picturing your friend tapping their foot and rolling their eyes while waiting for you.

That’s why it’s great when you arrive hot, sweaty, and breathless just before they rush around the corner hot, sweaty, and breathless, too.

Now no one has to feel bad.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Blast off.

Getting a six-foot liftoff when you’re two feet tall shoots you straight into the stratosphere. Suddenly you’re riding your own personal human in a bumpy living room safari in the clouds. Your diaper-padded ass bounces safely on sturdy shoulders as you giggle and grab fistfuls of hair and glasses while gazing down at the tiny toy-covered world you thought you knew.

Yes, your baby brain zooms out and gives a sneak peek of the big world you’re about to discover: riding wobbly bikes and skinning your knees at distant playgrounds, cruising around after curfew with fresh drivers licenses, and staring out tiny airplane windows at distant crisscrossed patches of your hometown.

Look back on those blurry shoulder rides in those jungle backyards and remember the rushing gushing feeling of going way up, staring way down, opening your eyes, and opening your mind…

AWESOME!

Photos from: here and here

It’s a terrible scene.

As that cell phone, digital camera, or pair of sunglasses crash lands on the concrete everyone gasps as it crunches, bounces, and skids hard…

Suddenly your eyes blur, stomach twists, and world flips as you fade back and suddenly realize you’re covered in scrubs inside a busy hospital ER.

You glance down the hall and see ambulance guys racing towards you wheeling your bloody cell phone strapped to a gurney without any noticeable lights or beeps. Someone’s got an icebox holding the battery case that blew off and a nurse is screaming that signal strength has flatlined.

Your eyebrows furrow and  pupils dilate as you snap on latex gloves, pull up your face mask, and start frantically checking for vitals. You scan for signs of blunt trauma, pop the battery in and out, and then finally stare straight into your cell phone’s face while closing your eyes, wincing, and forcing yourself to push Power.

There is a pause.

Nurses lean in with wide hopeful eyes, ambulance guys jostle and crowd, and nervous friends squeeze their own phones tightly for comfort and support. Then suddenly as everyone waits… and waits… and wait…

The power flashes and blinks back on.

And there is cheering.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Now’s your time.

As the sun dips down and the twilight fades to darkness there’s nothing sweeter than wheeling your bike out of the garage for a late summer night cruise. Those freewheeling adventures are great for a few reasons:

• The sound of silence. Hello darkness, my old friend. I’ve come to ride with you again. Yes, blaring horns, squealing brakes, and revving engines are all turned down and you’re left alone in the shadows with the wind whispering in your ears.

• Danger, Will Robinson. There’s a sense of reckless cool cruising down those lonely black roads. You can swerve your bike in all directions, hop off the curbs, and be a two-wheeled free spirit.

• Street King. Houselights flick off and raccoons paw trash cans as you rule your Neighborhood Empire as the newly crowned Street King. Puff your chest and scream ‘This is my land!’ at any passing motorists. Just keep the crown under your helmet for safety.

Yes, riding your bike late at night lets you be alone with your thoughts and your dreams and your fears all rolling around your brain as you roll around the block. Chatty parents, buzzing phones, and little brothers are all left behind as you stare forward into the black and ride on and on and on…

AWESOME!

Photos from: here and here

My mom and I saw a movie the other night.

I zoomed up the highway from my downtown apartment and she got a lift through the quiet sidestreets of my hometown. She had a big smile when I got there and was waiting in the lobby wearing lipstick and a cream cable knit sweater. She had the tickets pre-purchased and a purse packed with white chocolate, mixed nuts, and two bottles of water.

A plump n’ perky assistant manager with curls waterfalling out of her tight ballcap ripped our tickets and pointed us down the hall. We passed a couple glossy-eyed teens holding mops and texting as we walked into the theater and had a quick discussion — Where do you want to sit? Where do you want to sit? Wherever you want to sit — before grabbing a couple in the middle of the red plushy tundra.

Now, my mom’s five feet tall so her legs dangled from the chair, her clean gray spongy-soled sneakers swaying like a kid on a swing set. We chatted, chilled, and chowed down on chocolate before leaning back for the start of the show.

My mom fell asleep in twenty minutes.

I elbowed her softly and her eyes popped open. She looked at me, laughed guiltily, and whispered in a mock-cranky tone “It’s past my bedtime!” She then watched a few more minutes before dozing off again. After a couple more elbow jabs, I eventually just let her go.

When the credits started rolling and the house lights turned up we put on our coats on and made our way down. “So what did you think of the ending?” I asked with a big smile. “I liked the way they wrapped things up,” she straight-faced back, holding the metal handrail and single-stepping down the stairs.

I drove her home down the quiet, wet-slicked roads, through empty intersections, past my old school, and the park where my sister and I had soccer practice. When we reached the house she smiled groggily, gave me a big hug, and said come back soon.

As I zipped down the highway into the bright city lights my brain photo-flashed back … to blurry images of late-night rides through those same empty intersections, front row seats at school plays, and cold wobbly lawn chairs sitting patiently on the sidelines at soccer practice…

Happy Mother’s Day, everybody.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here, here and here

Let’s see here.

Saturday we got here. Sunday we did nothing. Then after that we did nothing. The next day we did nothing. And we’re doing nothing now.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

I suck at parallel parking.

Honestly, just look at me out there: tire-scraping, curb-bumping, seven-point turning in the middle of the busy downtown street. Yes, that’s why I always breathe a massive sigh of relief when someone stops by to lend me a hand:

1. Airport Crew Chief. Strap a neon vest and giant earmuffs on this gal because she’s straight off the landing strip. If you’re lucky she’ll stand in your side mirror and use that beautiful two-hands-getting-closer-together technique.

2. The Extremist. Dude’s got no middle ground. He’s an extreme screamer who’s favorite lines are “Back back back back back ba STOP!” and “Lots of space lots of space lots of — you’re on the curb.”

3. Mr. Measures. This teacher’s straight outta the portables and all about the accuracy. He’ll be dusting chalk off his hands while inspecting your bumper and calling out “You’ve still got four inches.”

Yes, we sure love these kind sidewalk souls. Without their help we’d be craning our necks and twisting our spines so it’s great when they pop on by to help us pop on in.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here and here

Peel the pleasure.

It doesn’t matter if you’re a Smooth Roller who uses your finger to slowly wheel the sticky icky into a little jelly roll or a Stretch Inspector who grabs a glue corner and yanks it further and further until it eventually snaps.

Nope, doesn’t matter at all.

Just enjoy the ride.

AWESOME!

Photo from: here

Every plate has a story.

Maybe it’s a cab of college kids on an endless summer road trip. Beef jerky wrappers, stained T-shirts, and a sweaty cooler fill the backseat of the rusty Volvo as they cruise cross country to soak in some sunny freedom before school starts. You see them laughing in front of you and softly smile at distant days gone by…

Or maybe it’s a couple retirees enjoying the first few weeks of a brand new life. As you pass their big boxy RV in the slow lane, you peek in and notice a wrinkly driver in a tight ballcap and baggy pink shirt steering fiercely with big twinkle in her eye. Your brain backflips as you daydream about your last day of work …

Or maybe it’s a family station wagon filling up at the pumps with a canoe on the roof and sleeping bags in the window. Two kids are playing video games in crumbs and juice stains as baby chews Cheerios and falls fast asleep. You glance at your boyfriend riding shotgun and he looks up innocently and smiles…

Yes, seeing a license plate from far away is a reminder we’re all tied together from the edge of our driveways to the edge of your driveways. Dusty towns, big cities, open fields, and tree-lined lanes may lie between us… but the truth is we’re all in this together: bouncing in cars, swerving down roads, spinning in place, flying through space.

AWESOME!

Photos from: here and here