Old Potato Road.

i created a simple blog to keep track of the odd happenings in this unconventional life of mine. Old Potato Road is my favorite road in between Austin and my hometown of Bryan, Texas. at a point in my life when i was figuring out what the hell i was going to do and who the hell i wanted to be i'd pass Old Potato Road and laugh out loud. it reminds me to honor and seek those simple moments that give breath to our crazy lives.

even today, when i drive by after my mom, dad or courtney has graciously scooped me up from the austin airport i anticipate passing Old Potato Road. it reminds me of finding joy in the simple moments of our lives. the sort of simple joy that creates reprieve from the dust of everyday life we sometimes can't shake.

i offer no wisdom. just sharing my life. things that make me laugh. things that make me cry. things that make me, well, me.
SKATE OR DIE There was a fire on the L Train this morning so the hoards of plaid clad and peasant dressed folk had to figure alternative means to get to the city.  2 different co-workers alerted me to the incident so I’d spare myself from attempting a ride from Bedford Ave in Brooklyn.  I wasn’t going to let this mishap squelch what was a nice long weekend.  I go into the storage unit in our apt, grab my skateboard, pat Stella on the head and tell her to DREAM BIG (this really happens each day) and skate on over to Bakeri to get my morning Iced Soy Latte.   Soy Latte in hand I throw my preppy tote bag with navy ticking stripe over my shoulder and before hitting the pavement I put on Kelly Rowland’s new song “Motivation”.  This was a tricky song choice because where it pumps me up, it also elicits the urge for slow gyrating moves.  The kind my parents pointed out at Victory Dances in High School that were “nasty”.  Regardless, I love it and skated about 1/2 a mile to the next train in Brooklyn.  A lovely simple moment with me and my freshly straightened hair rolling through the streets of Brooklyn. This moment reminded me of my skateboard club, Skate or Die, that met in my attic growing up.  We each had a beam of wood with our names on it and a 2 nails to support the weight of our skateboards to showcase during our meetings.  Most of the meetings consisted of us sitting down with our extremely intelligent next door neighbors, The Schlabach’s, who would sketch out our next ramp.  Essentially we’d plan out my next broken bone. Probably my favorite activity that arose from skateboarding was when we’d get a wardrobe box, lay it down on the board and squish 2 of us inside.  Then the person at the top of our hill would push you as hard as they could and basically you’d just roll down Birchcrest Lane until you crashed.  Maybe not the brightest idea, but it sure was fun.  Funny that now at almost 30 years old, I still love the feeling of just puttering around on my skateboard without a care in the world.  Well, not caring about anything besides the infamous New York City pot holes.

SKATE OR DIE

There was a fire on the L Train this morning so the hoards of plaid clad and peasant dressed folk had to figure alternative means to get to the city.  2 different co-workers alerted me to the incident so I’d spare myself from attempting a ride from Bedford Ave in Brooklyn.  I wasn’t going to let this mishap squelch what was a nice long weekend.  I go into the storage unit in our apt, grab my skateboard, pat Stella on the head and tell her to DREAM BIG (this really happens each day) and skate on over to Bakeri to get my morning Iced Soy Latte.  

Soy Latte in hand I throw my preppy tote bag with navy ticking stripe over my shoulder and before hitting the pavement I put on Kelly Rowland’s new song “Motivation”.  This was a tricky song choice because where it pumps me up, it also elicits the urge for slow gyrating moves.  The kind my parents pointed out at Victory Dances in High School that were “nasty”.  Regardless, I love it and skated about 1/2 a mile to the next train in Brooklyn.  A lovely simple moment with me and my freshly straightened hair rolling through the streets of Brooklyn.

This moment reminded me of my skateboard club, Skate or Die, that met in my attic growing up.  We each had a beam of wood with our names on it and a 2 nails to support the weight of our skateboards to showcase during our meetings.  Most of the meetings consisted of us sitting down with our extremely intelligent next door neighbors, The Schlabach’s, who would sketch out our next ramp.  Essentially we’d plan out my next broken bone.

Probably my favorite activity that arose from skateboarding was when we’d get a wardrobe box, lay it down on the board and squish 2 of us inside.  Then the person at the top of our hill would push you as hard as they could and basically you’d just roll down Birchcrest Lane until you crashed.  Maybe not the brightest idea, but it sure was fun. 

Funny that now at almost 30 years old, I still love the feeling of just puttering around on my skateboard without a care in the world.  Well, not caring about anything besides the infamous New York City pot holes.