All dressed up and no place to go.

On Saturday, the women who taught my motorcycle safety course kept yelling at me. They weren't really yelling. After all I was wearing a helmet and seven other Buell motorcycles were revving their way around a training area. They didn't have a choice but to be loud. But between their volume and tone I started to feel as if I wasn't able to do anything right.

Then today, one of the women took me aside and said, "You're a better rider than you think you are. I should have told you that yesterday." She must have been right because I did better than anyone in the class on my skills test. I missed one question out of 50 on the written exam.

In retrospect I shouldn't have minded all the criticism. I was paying these people to tell me what I was doing wrong so I'll have a better chance of staying safe on the road. I dig encouragement and positive reinforcement as much as anyone, but this wasn't the place for me to get a shot in the arm.

I got my road test slip. All I need to do now is head on over the DMV and take their written test and I've got a license.

What good is a license if you don't have a motorcycle?

Not much.

But that's a topic we'll broach another time.

Now I've got a million things to do to get ready to leave for Ft. Worth. Allie may have strep and this is crucial time for Deb at work.

My head is clogged and I'm coughing. I need to gargle with Listerine to try and kill whatever bacteria Alllie gave to me over the past few days.

Oh. BOO HOO. If you're so sick and stressed why didn't you skip motorcycle class and work this weekend?

Because.

Now shut up and go buy me a motorcycle.