Life Slows

This is for Her; of course it's a recurring theme, like carp.

                                      This is a ditty 'bout how the grass grows

                                      Tough and random, not careful laid rows

                                      Bluegrass, fescue, whichever you chose

                                      Dew clinging loosely, licks at my toes

                                      A wafting spring scent, whenever she mows

                                      A soft summer playground for jays and the crows

                                      Midnight snack for the bunnies and does

                                      Natural stage for backyard shows

                                      A scrapbook filled with young superbowl throws

                                      The subject for many a poet and prose

                                      Listen real careful, you can hear as wind blows

                                      Catching your tears in the midst of your woes

                                      A mat for meditation...your heartbeat slows

                                      Supporting young love even as they propose

                                      Flashback of all the highs and the lows

                                      I believe that's how the story goes,

                                      But I'm not really sure anyone knows.

                                                                                                                yv



My Ah Ha Moment

I guess I can say this here, since although it's public, my readership is low. I want to quit my job. There, it's real, it's on the internet. I can remember a day when it was on TV it was real.  Funny, now that we have Reality TV those days are gone.

I would like to pull the plug. Change the channel. Donate my television to the local dump. I'm not disgruntled, bitter, or angry; I'm just done. Problem is, what now?

I've been crunching the numbers, seems like old times.  At least this time the math makes more sense. But what I need is more cents. Here's what I came up with:  I'll be fine I just need to give up coffee, beer, gas, tv (no problem), and food. I'm bargaining away my vices for the ability to see more sunsets.  I think it's a fair trade. But then I think, but some of those things are important, like beer.

Folks keep telling me I need to make a list.  A pros cons list. Do I have to, she said in her best only child whine. I know what it's going to tell me and that's not the answer I want to hear. I asked my dad for permission to quit my job. He gave me advice about the list. The things I put on the pro side that are really important to me, put them on TWICE. It's the best advice he's ever given.

Tonight the wind was howling like it was angry about something. Then came the sleet. Beneath the street lights I found a beautiful peculiar scene. It was as if I was riding in a snow globe being assaulted by a pit bull. And I thought, I'm sick of riding in circles.



BWI

I'm sorry what?  Did I hear you correctly? Did you just call me HIGH MAINTENANCE? Me? Did you mean to call ME high maintenance? Or did you just say Hi! Maintenance? Because I'm a technician, not maintenance.

I walked in a bar, met a guy named Jerry, and he accused me of being high maintenance within 5 minutes. I hate to break it to you Jer but not a single hair follicle has seen a brush, comb, razor, or tweezer in a month or more. I'm not proud, I'm just saying.

On a positive note, I got in for free. "Bikers get in free," that's what the doorman said. And if I could just point out, high maintenance girls DO NOT ride to bars on bikes. Sometimes they ride ON bars on bikes, but never bikes to bars.

But I will say this, in an effort to pack for my upcoming trip, I have come across a most disturbing girlie thought:  I've got drawers full of clothes and not a thing to wear!

Gone Fishing

What a difference a year makes. I've had a particularly craptastic time of it...until I decided not to. Talking helps; friends help; listening helps. Dancing...helps. Attitude Adjusted. Mission Defined.

I've recently added a fresh breeze to my life. She rocks. She types in italics. Accidentally. And shows her teeth about it.  She makes me smile, and laugh out loud. She is a good friend.

I am so lucky to be surrounded by good friends. Friends that remind me about the importance of life. Friends that encourage me to dance and sing out loud, real loud. Friends that remind me to put my passion into work AND work into passion. I have refound my smile.

I've taken to midday dance downs. It's fun. I dance in the living room.  I dance in the kitchen.  I dance down the hall. Last night I almost danced in the bar, but I didn't want to be refused my next beer. It wasn't that kind of bar.

I heard today my new life motto.  Last night it was Carpe Carp, which I still like, but is really a "you had to be there" moment. Today it is I haven't seen nearly enough sunsets yet. Cue the midlife crisis; I am ready.

Sara Bareilles:
There's too many things that I haven't done yet
Too many sunsets
I haven't seen
You can't waste the day wishing it'd slow down
You would've thought by now
I'd have learned something
There's too many things i haven't done yet
Too many sunsets i haven't seen

Snow White

Pure as the ridden snow. I finally got to use my snow tires today! Now, please may I never have to use them again. 

This is about my trip.  Or at least that is the guise I am using to hook you in.  Not that it matters, I have one solid reader and .5 various others.  My faithful follower?  A doctor, so I can say whatever I like.

You've guessed it, another blasted post about my period. I won't get into the specifics of it, but you well know it's a troublesome time in my life. And it's poised to impact my travels. But this is really about math so hang in there.

So I pulled out a pen and paper, calculator, calendar, and ancient abacus. All in an effort to pinpoint the exact moment of its arrival. I don't like surprises.  I like them even less on 20 hour plane rides. And once I realized the time change of traveling across the globe might present a variable I hadn't anticipated I was face to face with a complex puzzle. 

It was starting to play out like a brow scrunching word problem in a college level Prob and Stat class. If I leave on a plane at 6:00 UTC/GMT +8 hours from an area with no DST to arrive EST 19:00 and Aunt Flo arrives 2 hours later on the same plane how many times will I need get up and go stuff myself into a tiny excuse of a CR during that flight?

See? Tougher than Rubiks Cube. I can promise you this, I'd be up and down more times than a Jane Fonda workout tape. But just as I was about to fully panic I reconsulted the calendar.  Phew, I was an entire week off.  You'd a thought I just found out I wasn't pregnant.  And believe me the first person I'd tell is the doctor at Sibley! (see if you were the faithful reader, you'd get that)

But the math problem of the whole ordeal is still intriguing.  And I'm thinking if the word problems I actually did encounter in freshman math read like this I might have paid closer attention.  If your tampon has the capacity of .0001 litres of liquid, which is absorbed at a rate of .001 litres per 48 minutes how often would you need to change it during an overseas flight, oh and by the way you are wearing snowy white pants. Now THAT I might have paid attention to. I really didn't think it'd be necessary to work through the trajectory of a satellite leaving orbit.

Semantics

Careful what you wish for. I hate to keep harping on the door incident, but I bumped my head, consider it a skip in the record. Going through the door is not exactly what you meant to say I'm guessing.  And perhaps maybe rethinking this bumper sticker, also necessary.

Define girlfriend. Define dirty. How dirty IS your bike? I'm just saying you might get more than you bargained for. Trust me.

Today I went to the bank. To speak to someone about my account.  See, they have these people, who sit at desks, away from the counter, that work for the bank, I thought they were there to help.

"Did you need help with something?" See, I told you, there to help.  I stated my issue, my concern, and they said, "just dial the number on the back of your card". The one that says 'customer service' I say? Meanwhile thinking, WHAT is it THESE folks do at the bank all day?

Is this like sending an associate to an event to have them stand at a display and when people come up and ask for more information, they say....say it with me....Just Go To The Website.  I love that one.

Night Cap

It's been brought to my attention that I am cryptic and unclear.  Yes, I know.  So this is for you.  A recap of my ER tour and events thereafter...as clear as it can be, for what it's worth.

I'd like to first draw your attention to the picture on the right.  Notice the big green button on the left wall.  That is what you are supposed to push to exit, I believe you will notice also a note on the left door stating as much.  We here in America, however, travel on the right.  Perhaps you see the danger in this set up.  I mean I'm no Engineer, well, actually I am but not that kind of Engineer.

So let's jump to the point of impact. JD was standing over me going on and on about a red cast on my arm. Then I got whisked away to the ER by way of several traffic circles that may have been unnecessary, but I wasn't driving, nor thinking clearly.  So we finally got to the ER where I sat in the waiting room and read something about mothers and unicorns on the sign above the desk.

My designated driver parked illegally in front of  a police car right in front of the Emergency Room access.  She then came in walked by me several times (the waiting room is the size of a small closet) and then sat down next to me across from a room labeled TRIAGE, which she managed to pronounce, but had trouble figuring out what it was.  She's a reporter. And I was hit on the head? It's where they coral the 3 year olds duh!

Then they call me back and perform an eye test from the adjacent wing.  The nurse texts me to tell me to cover the right eye.  I read a couple lines, hesitate, and seriously wonder if she wants me call out the Russian characters I see in the next line.  I do. She asks me to stop.

Then they call in the main gal, the one who engages in the multiple questions about my sex life or rather lack thereof. Remember the back and forth between pregnancy and period? Now I've only experienced the one but I believe they are both fairly obvious and somewhat mutually exclusive of each other.  But she thoroughly questions me anyway, to be sure.  Don't they have tests for that...I mean if you don't trust me. Or was there a particular answer you were looking for ma'am?  What have you heard??

Then she does the drinking tests.  Turns out I'm sober. Cold hard sober. Completely within the legal limit.  Maybe if I had said I was pregnant we could have skipped this part? Then Chandelier checked me in.  The Divine Miss not the elegant light fixture. I'm sorry?  Is that your stripper name?  I remember when they used to have STRIPERS in hospitals...

Then they hooked me up with a bike where the wheels were next to each other instead of one in front of the other.  Because there were no working pedals this turned out to be a good thing.  And it came with a chauffeur who took me to the CAT test.  I'm still not exactly sure why they were looking for cats in my head, but turns out none were there, thank god.

Then they told me to resume normal activity minus the TV watching, drinking, and staying up late.  I don't understand, what?  My head hurts. I managed to check off all three, oh wait, I think I got confused I WASN'T supposed to do those, shoot.

When I went to work today I marched myself up to HR to fill out an accident report.  I wore my helmet inside the building and everyone laughed. 

Got it?  Unicorns, a cast, Chandeliers, cats, sober, NOT PREGNANT.  That's 100% what happened as accurately as I can possibly recall.

Doors: 2. Me: Goose Egg

Well I made it through the night, I haven't been to sleep yet, but I did manage to run audio successfully and drive a car home. I think I might live, but I guess we'll see if I wake up in the morning.

Cuz they were super worried about it at the hospital.  First there was the doctor...or doctor's assistant, or whatever she was, the woman administering the drinking tests...and can I just say they were real concerned about my last period, they always are. Then there are the pregnant questions.  And birth control.  Really, are all these questions necessary or even relevant? I bumped my HEAD!

3 weeks.  No. No. In that order. Then she leans in real close, bats her eyelashes over her beautiful rimmed glasses, and whispers, "Can you give me a good reason?" Excuse me?  Are you flirting with me? Because I can honestly say, I'm a little rusty.  Get it?  Rusty? Ha!  That's off the CHAIN YO! Raahaha

She was not.  Flirting, that is. I mean mine's been on a year long sabbatical, but it came back with a vengeance BAM!(like riding a bike)...all it took was a bonk on the head; an enormous clunk on the noggin. I damn near bit my tongue off; okay, really I just shaved off a sliver of half a taste bud, but then I came to and asked someone to kiss it. My tongue! To make it better.  They sent me to the ER.

Where they asked me about my sex life. I said, a good reason I'm not on birth control? She said, pregnant, how do you know you're not pregnant because they are going to demand a concrete answer...I mean you're the doctor, but isn't the bleeding from the uterine wall a sign? How about I'M NOT SEXUALLY ACTIVE??  Is that a good enough reason for you?  Apparently it was.

Then they sit me down with a list of signs and symptoms.  Do you live alone?  There we go again!  Are you trying to depress me or is this just a side effect?  YES, I live alone.  Well, could someone check on you? Watch you? Make sure you are still breathing? I thought, Parker will definitely be calling you in the morning to let you know someone needs to feed her if I have not, but I just cleared the CAT test and didn't want to bring that up again.

Er...

The line wasn't so bad, but as soon as they put the wristband on I got a drinking test.  What?  Shouldn't I get at least get ONE drink first?  Not a bad idea to test someone before AND after, I mean to get an accurate test, but I ain't even been served yet!

Okay, so I touched my nose and heel toed my way across the room.  Now can I have a drink? Not for two days; are you crazy!  I just took out a door with my head.  Surely I deserve a drink.

There I go again with a door/work injury.  Hadn't even thought of it.  Turns out they don't work as good if you try to put your head through them.  I mean before they are opened.  Note to self:  wear helmet even when OFF the bike...

It's not the coolest club in town, but I did get this really cool bracelet with my name on it.  I asked, and they don't actually serve ANY drinks.  Apple juice, that's right they offered me apple juice.  BUT I did get a free ride in a wheel chair like an amusement park.  I really think the guy could have put more into it, it was really rather tame.  And he just left me sit outside this really ominous sign that said CAUTION RADIATION.

No cause for alarm...there are absolutely NO cats in my head!  Zero.  I didn't think it necessary to take radioactive pictures to find this out however. CAT Scan, they called it.  It was really a brain scan and I tried to activate every cranny so it would light up like I see on TeeVee.

Diagnosis:  concussion.  The medical term for, there's really nothing wrong, but we want to cover our ass.  Treatment:  resume normal activity, no TV, no alcohol, and don't stay up late.  Uh, Doc, we may have a problem here...can you maybe rank those in order of importance because there's no way you're getting all that!

COGnitive Behavioral Therapy

The Y is silent?  Silent?  Are you sure? I don't remember this grammatical rule.  I before E...yes..except after C...yes..and sometimes Y...right...but the Y has always had a voice!  The Y must always be heard!

Not this time sister cyclist.  Every now and again you come across a situation that has no answer. I don't love it, but there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Toast success, I guess; good thing there's a beer handy in my cage.

This is another one of those life parallels that played itself out several times this week.  Some things just don't have a 'why'.  Why? Didn't your mother ever tell you, because I said so. Sometimes it doesn't matter, sometimes no one knows, sometimes...Christ on a Kestrel just let it go!

Grit, grime, grease, gunk, gross.  I'm not sure what or how, but my bike is no longer creaking.  Thank the lord Amen. I was about to stick it on a boat to Africa...I can you know!?  I'm not sure I found the answer, perhaps it was the Ick.  The Ick is never good.  It has ruined the best relationships, felled mighty royals, flattened political wannabees.  I say blame the Ick.

Oh, but then the Y isn't really silent.  Well you know what, two negatives don't really make a positive either, but that one's been around since the beginning of A. Well, I'm using my emotional license to manipulate the truth. You try sleeping in this brain with puzzles unsolved! It was the ICK I tell you!

Besides, I still don't know how ESPN got into Mic 11 so there's your Silent Y.  And if you hear Sara Walsh talking on top of one of our reporters you'll know why, but I won't.

It IS a Vehicle

A girl walks into a...body shop, thought I was gonna say BAR dincha?  Oh shoot, that's not going to work either...so a girl rides into a body shop...

I did.  I parked out back and rode the little joint around front and into the office.  Parked it right there beneath the counter.  Kickstand and all. Then, I plopped my key down on the counter and the guy just looked at me.

I looked, and sure enough, I was in the right place, says Auto Body right on the door.  "I'm dropping my car off to get repaired."  There may have been a hint of attitude. (hey, it was early)

He looked at me.  At the bike.  At me.  At the bike.  He stood to get a better look at the bike.  Then he shrugged, took the key, and said "okay".  And we all laughed.  I told him the fender needed tightened and maybe a touch up on the paint.  Then he pulled out the paint book...

...Meanwhile, they are banging the shit out of my car for a few grand.  I like the sense of humor; I guess you need it when you charge folks $100 for new logos so Honda can advertise on your trunk.  For FREE.  Okay, I'll drop it.  But that's about $13 a letter.  And the bumper stickers...?

Suxism

...well not exactly.  I would like to retract everything I said in my previous post. Except the title, I'd like to reiterate that.

Today's ride may well be one of the top 5 worst ever.  Top 3.  IF you only count the rides that sucked because of non-technical issues.  I'm not quite ready to blame the tires, but the way I felt it couldn't possibly be just ONE thing at fault.

I'm almost hoping I've contracted MS or Fibro or the Ebola Virus or something that better explains my acute case of Maximum Gluteus Couchitis.  My performance was horrendous.  I stopped THREE times on may way in.  From home.  To work. 

I was seriously regretting passing by that two year old with her arm outreached, cheerio between her fingers, offering it, to me. I thought, how cute, she is sharing her treats.  I had no idea she was trying to save my life.  Turns out I'm not even smarter than a 2 Year Old.

And so, 50 yards down the road, I BONKED.  Hard.  I debiked.  I sat down.  But I didn't take off my shoes OR helmet.  There was no picnic, but I sure did need it.  Was it the heat?  The lack of breakfast?  Was I tired?  The rhino virus?  WHY was I so tired. 

I stopped again, and refueled on cookies I remembered were in my bag. God love M&M...the couple, not the candy.  Four cookies, filled with short lived sugar bursts.  It got me 150 yards further.  Good!  The zoo.  I HAVE to walk through the zoo, it's not like I CAN'T ride.  I'm NOT ALLOWED to.  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

Prairie Dogs.  I love prairie dogs.  Maybe I'll just sit here awhile and watch them.  Ooh, the gorillas are out.  What is that, a bird?  A wild, free bird.  Squirrels, now you don't see those everyday... Moms with strollers were beating me up the hill, even while taking in the zebras, or is it zebrae?

Debunking the popular theory, every ride is a good ride.  This one sucked.  Hard.  I might be stuck at work...

My Tired Life

If you ask any shop they'll surely tell you it's about tires.  I don't totally agree, the wheels themselves deserve some cred., but for the money it truly is all about the tires.

Once I took my bike in the shop, had them overhaul it while I was off doing RAAM, and when I got back I could barely ride the thing!  You could blame RAAM, but it was all about the tires and the cassette.  I went from mountain to road (11 to 9) and beefy commuter tires.  I sucked some major asphalt.

So you may have questioned my desire to switch from 28s to 35s.  I know!  And it's not like I really needed to put snow tires on my bike, what with temperatures licking 55 degrees. My old commuter mountain bike (may she rest in peace) went from knobby fats to skinny slicks.  Now I'm converting from skinny slicks to knobby fats?  Women!

You don't understand...(I know that's the definition of woman).  I was riding a single speed with 28s.  Now I've got GEARS and a ROAD crank!  I'm cruising despite the knobby fats.  I sound a bit like a Star Wars war craft but better yet I can fly like one!

It's all about what you put into it.  Just like life.  You can sit back and coast stuck on your cycle or you pour your heart and soul into it and really get something out of it.  I mean the scenery is nice either way, but you'll feel so much better if you're not just along for the ride.

And that's all I have to say about that...

Have You Checked Whoville?

Dear Santa Baby, Honey, Snookums...

I couldn't help but notice you didn't leave what I asked for this Christmas.  In fact, correct me if I'm wrong, but you didn't stop by at all.  I know you were in the neighborhood, it appears Christmas puked all over my neighbors' living room.

I mean I had some choice moments, but I wouldn't label me 'naughty'...really I don't think anyone would....Sincerely, NOTHING happened in Vegas, I didn't just leave it there!  Perhaps it was that bit about the post office and you leaving packages there?  Come on!  Where's your sense of humor?  It's a blog, I know it's on the Internet, but it's really not real.

So anyway, I'll let it slide this year.  I've been distracted with a sack of sidetrack anyway.  I'm getting all the bad out of the way before we even get into the new year so no excuses.  But I thought I could go ahead and get you a list early so you could work on it.  And please, if you come across my dream gift and you are in the area go ahead and drop it by...even if it's April, just don't forget the bow.

It's the same thing I've already asked for, I just have a list you can use as a guide.  It's just a guide, but I wouldn't stray too far from it.  Sort of a Betterman Top 10 List

 1.  someone who can laugh and have a good time  FUN FUN FUN
 2.  someone who introduces me to new things and stretches my imagination
 3.  someone who pushes me to be a better person and is striving for the same
 4.  someone who isn't too materialistic (whether it be trash or treasure)
 5.  someone who rides faster than me
 6.  someone who no offense, doesn't have rosy cheeks and a snowy white beard
 7.  someone who touches me outside of...you know....the naughty stuff ;)
 8.  someone who has vacation and is not afraid to use it
 9.  someone who rides through mud puddles
10. someone who is super excited to see me

...it's just a start, but if you could keep your eye out now....thanks so much