Saturday, June 20, 2009

Stylin'

My young neighbor and I share a name: Celeste. She has the stronger claim on it, as it's her first name and my second one, so I let her use it.

Celeste has a new bike. Look at those white tires with the pink sidewalls! I like the little clips on the spokes, too. They make a soft buzzing noise as she speeds down the sidewalk. This is a special edition "Slumber Party" bike, with a zipper bag on the front to carry her treasures.

Celeste has been riding that thing up and down the block every chance she gets. Her brother Cesar got a new scooter. He wouldn't pose, which is his prerogative. But I'm grateful to Celeste for letting me take her picture.

A bit of business:
I'd love it if you'd read my story at the Rose City Sisters Flash Fiction Blog. It's short! Leave a comment even if you don't like the story (writers had better have thick skin). Then read the guidelines and submit your own story to the Rose City Sisters.

Did you miss out on the Eateries Handbook? Here's something I can offer all Pasadena Daily Photo visitors: a discount at Whooga.com. Nice boots, $30 off when you enter the code PASADENADA into the box in the cart. I've checked it out and it's legit. Let me know what you think of offers like these. Good? Smarmy? More? Fewer?

17 comments:

Shell Sherree said...

I'm positive I gave the same handlebar ribbons to my niece for her bike. {Well, not those exact same ones, of course.} What a cutie-pie!

Love your story at Rose City Sisters, Petrea - very moving. {And I have no aversion to prizes and special offers at all.}

Jean Spitzer said...

I went to Rose City, read the story and then tried to comment. For some reason (unknown to me, or I would fix the problem), I can't post a comment with certain blogs and that is one of them.

So, I'll say it here: I got very worried about Belinda and then very relieved when she opened the gift and then the door. Good story. Makes me want to read more.

wv: daing

Petrea Burchard said...

I had those streamers when I was a kid. They never go out of style. Yeah, Celeste is a cutie. We have good people on the block.

Daing! Thanks for reading the story. I want it to get a lot of exposure. It's the first fiction I've published in a while.

Vanda said...

I wonder what her favorite color is.

Cafe Pasadena said...

Nice cute shot of your neighbor. Judging by her TShirt, looks like she also knows another blogger - Stef.

I read your story in a flash! Who knew a shutterladybug could also write.

The Whooga isn't gonna help me, P. This dog can't recall the last time I wore boots. But, please let me know if your code works on Petco or PetSmart.

Desiree said...

Ah Petrea:
I love the name Celeste, and she's the heroine in my mainstream novel--
ask Margaret about it.
Great shot!

HearkenCreative said...

I had a crush on a Celeste in high school, but it was doomed: she lived 300 miles away. But I still have a fondness for the name...

Off-topic, but related to the bikes: I was cleaning out the garage, and all the bikes were out this morning, and it started raining! Again! Come on, alrightalready, June gloom just needs to pack up and go home. June is almost over. Now I need to go out and wipe down all the bikes.

Okay, I'll trade you links to stories — I loved the hopefulness of yours, Petrea. My birthday present to my wife last year was a container garden on our side porch, with herbs and peppers (and we're working on chives, too), so I related to your protagonist's sentiments. My wife's newest story just went up over at Futurismic, and I'd love her to get some loving, too: http://bit.ly/H1hvt — it's scifi and heavy on mathematics, so be warned.

A cup of tea and a book and your story have already been consumed on this drizzly morning; now I'm unsure how to top all that...

Maria said...

awe so sweet. there is nothing better than a pink bike when you are a little girl.

Vanda said...

A pink pony?

I got up early to go hiking, and it was raining! We hiked anyway.

John Sandel said...

I will testify to the profound spell that the name Celeste can drop over the male consciousness, like spangled velvet over a cockatiel's roost—la stella have nothing on my beloved.

Petrea Burchard said...

Gee, sweetie. (I need the Bugs Bunny heart pounding pic here.)
Celeste, you've got good things to look forward to.

V: green?

CO: thanks for reading.

Desiree: I will ask. You have an excellent imagination for heroines.

Speaking of excellent: Hearken, your wife's story is terrific. Pasadena is so full of good writers we ought to have our own publishing company.

Hmm.

Hee hee, Vanda. Maria, I would have wanted the pony, but Celeste seems thrilled with her bike.

toast said...

Celeste's bike is amazing! I had a similar one when I was a kid, except mine was hot pink with purple splatters on the body of the bike. Same spoke clips and white wheels, though. ;) I think every kid should learn how to ride a bike - the feeling of graduating to a two-wheeler after training wheels is a great feeling of accomplishment!

PJ said...

Celeste's bike is her horse. It's a kind of freedom, at least in my generation. I still love to bike.

Ms M said...

A lovely post and photo. :>)

Petrea Burchard said...

That's the analogy, isn't it, PJ? Of course.

HearkenCreative said...

Thanks for checking out my wife's story, Petrea! Yes, Pasadena is home to quite a lot of writing talent, both now and in the past (Upton Sinclair and my wife's inspiration and idol — Octavia Butler — come to mind).

Keep writing; I can't wait to see what you show us next.

A bike can be a horse but, like a horse, they can be unruly: I broke my arm last year when my bike and the road had a disagreement — one of the perils of riding in Pasadena where the streets aren't made for bicycles, and aren't swept or repaired that often. But I'm back on the bike and commuting several times a week; it feels good, and it's cheaper then pouring $3+/gallon gas into my car...

Petrea Burchard said...

Loren, I've been wanting a bike for ages, but I would never ride one on the street in this town.

I'll keep writing. Can't stop. Thanks for reading my story.