Beans and Bikes

I have a new bicycle. I feel the same excitement I did when I gazed on my first training-wheels-less bike that my parents bought me at a yard sale. I was seven. It was a banana seat and I want to say it was the kind that you had to pedal backwards to break. I remember believing that in order to ride a bike, you had to keep the front wheel as straight as possible. Which of course is the opposite of the truth. I finally figured it out and I remember my dad running behind me, holding onto the back "handle" to keep me steady as I learned to ride. Shortly, I realized he was no longer there with me and I was riding, really riding, all by myself. It was exhilarating. That was my one and only American bike. I've owned a few bikes in China. And every member of my family has had a bike stolen except for me. My bike always just so happened to be safe. My last bike was custom built for me for Christmas. I loved it although something was wrong with it that they could never identify. This is the reason I didn't take it with us to NC.
I now own my second American bike. John wanted to look at bikes yesterday so we went to a Dick's Sports store and checked them out. I didn't expect to get one THAT day but after riding it down the aisle a few times, I saw that glint in John's eye. We went around town and on base shopping and later came back to get my bike. I couldn't wipe the silly childish grin off my face as we walked it out to the car. I also got a helmet that is oh so very "LiQi" as John likes to say. Which basically means...it's very ME. It's green with little skull and cross bone monkeys on it. Or something. It's random. But I love it. And I love my new bike. This was a good weekend.
Saturday or Sunday morning, one of our kitties Bean jumped up to greet us when my alarm went off. After purring and nudging my hands with her face, she sat on the edge of the bed and John whispered to look. She was sitting staring up at the fan (because she is SURE that one day she will catch it if she stands up tall enough). Shortly her tail started whipping around wildly and she sat on her hind legs and flailed her little black arms, desperately hoping to catch hold of the spinning toy in the sky. It was so cute I could have died. She also made a little chirping noise. Bean is a doll. She is one of those animals where you have to clutch your chest to keep your heart from bursting because she is just too cute for reality. And she doesn't meow. She chirps and she "reow?"s. I don't know if I've ever owned a cat that simply "meowed." All my cats always have the strangest voices. My old cat Orange that still lives in Washington with my parents honks. I believe she is slightly deaf too so it's more like bellowing than anything but it is not a meow. Definitely honk-like. We call her the Fog Horn. Bean's brother George peeps. He has the tiniest voice I think I've ever heard. And it's quite hilarious when paired with his size.
These kitties bring me so much joy and happiness. I honestly don't know what I would have done without them over John's deployment.