(Disclaimer: The opinions expressed here are my own because, guess what? This is my blog and I do what I want to!)
Magicians rank right up there with clowns for yuck factor. Their carefully guarded secrets still are just sleight of hand, smoke and mirrors, and distraction. Why would I want to see people pulling rabbits, scarves, pigeons, or rutabagas out of a hat?
Still, there’s something to be said for distraction. I’m on day three without a cigarette. (pats her own back) I’m watching Deadliest Catch marathons, knitting matching covers for my washer and dryer, snaking out the sinks, waxing the driveway, teaching myself Swahili, and cleaning the car, air ducts, and random stray dogs.
Yesterday, was the ultimate distraction. I went on a field trip as research for my next book. The Harley dealership was huge and majestic. Hundreds of gleaming motorcycles greeted me with the promise of open roads and cute guys wearing leather chaps. I wanted to get a bike back in another lifetime, but my ex forbade it. Probably one of the reasons why he’s now my ex.
I actually drooled on one of the Softtail Deluxes, and considered a used Sportster as a starter bike. I found the bike I wanted for my roguish character, and checked out everything from leather jackets, to belt buckles, to Harley cribbage boards. I’ve led such a sheltered life. I never knew they had cribbage tournaments in the back rooms of biker bars. That’s definitely going in the book!
Can I afford a bike? No. Would the numbness in my hands be a detriment to riding a bike? Yes. But, for one shining afternoon, I had no desire for a cigarette, and it didn’t even require a magician.