Oh I'm Feeling Hot! Hot! Hot!

Apparently I didn't get enough of the heat during the trip to AC. Or at least that's the justification I'm using for why I decided to - less than a week later - take Lucille and head back north before hooking a right and heading for Ocean City.

Oh, and it was the OC Fastest Bartender Finals.

For those who don't know, I help out with the Fastest Bartender Contest which is held in multiple cities all up and down the east coast. This is one of the cooler charitable organizations I've had the priviledge of working with. And, as a bonus, they happen to be fairly fond of my photography skillz which means that I get to practice my paparazzi talents while folks raise money (gotta love combining two loves)!

(ok, enough plugging for one post)

Anywhosit - the finals are kind of a big deal so I make every effort to attend them, regardless of location. Besides, who is going to pass up a prime opportunity to chill at the beach?! So here I have the chance to combine beach, photography, raising money AND motorcycling.... um yeah, sign my ass up por favor.

Ride up was largely uneventful thankfully. It wasn't nearly as painfully hot as the trip to AC was and my riding mood was a little more pleasant. We were all goofing off and having a grand ol' time - I was taking lots of pictures, everyone was really getting into the contest which was awesome...

Unfortunately, I got a call that I'd expected but been dreading and honestly... had been avoiding even thinking about that day. Our beloved family dog, Jack, passed away late that night. He was an old, happy boy who was fortunate enough to not only be at home when he passed but also did not suffer. The poor guy's heart had just had enough that night after one last walk.

Jack: Thanksgiving 1997 - July 13, 2010

This dog was truly amazing. I know everyone says that about their dogs, but Jack was special. My aunt called him "one of my all-time favorite canines." He had boundless levels of love to hand out to anyone with a hand to pet him. He and my brother grew up together. I remember how he would play so much differently with my brother when he was little (my brother was about 4 when we got Jack) than he would play with my sister and I or my parents. I'd catch my sister talking to Jack constantly, which was reassuring to me because I felt like everyone - even a strong-willed girl like Moo - needed someone to just listen. My dad always tried to play the rough-and-tough man and at first acted like he was unphased by Jack. It was very obvious very quickly though that Dad would spoil this dog silly, and was often the one getting him all riled up to play at all hours of the night. And my mom... there is no doubt that Jack played a key role in my mom's quality of life and healing process while she was going through breast cancer treatments. Jack was every kind of dog he needed to be, and always had room in his heart to be just a little more.

The phone call from my mom tore me apart. I was sick with pain from losing such an amazing piece of my life and felt like I had a hole that was eating me from the inside out. I felt so guilty for not being there - for him and for my family. My heart was not ready to bear the load of death just a week after Mike's funeral. I was so far from home and my own dogs and just wanted to curl up and cry, which is exactly what happened on that Ocean City street corner. I was fortunate enough to be with good friends and even now I can't honestly explain the feeling of reassurance I had just from them being there. Thanks for the hugs, you know who you are~*

Needless to say the rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Though my coping mechanism may not have been the most ideal, I had cried all that my body was capable of crying in a week's time and I needed to have a good time. But hey - I had a drink renamed after me :D For the curious cats in the audience, a "Shoe Bomb" (dear FBI/ homeland security, I'm not a terrorist. Though this drink may cause night terrors) is a shot of Jameson bombed in a glass of Smirnoff Ice. I know I know, initial instinct is to recoil. However, trust me when I say it's delicious. Tastes like ginger ale. I do strongly suggest you stick with just one though...

Riding home the next day was therapeutic. Though my head appreciated the fresh air, my heart appreciated the solitude that riding a bike provides. It's just you and the road and the engine - you can reach out and feel the world flow through your fingertips like water in a forest stream. It's invigorating and difficult to describe. If you ride and you can't remember the last time you felt this way on your bike, I encourage you to find a road - any road will do - and just go and put your hands out and take a deep breath in as you eat up the pavement. 

The only way you can understand your destination is to appreciate the journey for all it's worth.

2 days.

Another 500 miles.

Another loss for the world, but another big gain for heaven.

Sleep tight puppers...