Wednesday, August 27, 2008
We got off to a late start on Monday, so much so that we weren't going to make it to the campground in time for the 11 *PM* deadline... so we finally had the happy experience of camping at the Door County Walmart-- classy! We had always heard that you could spend the night there in the parking lot, and there you have it: we can cross that one off the list of "tacky things we must do before we die".
So then it's wake up early, pick up some last minute purchases, and head out to the campground, all at the decent hour you should have made it the previous day if you were the punctual type.
The campground was not too crowded, I suspect because those from the Land of Lincoln went back to school this week, and we have since decided to make this the official camping week for evermore.
The weather was gorgeous, the bike trails sublime. The kids were crabby (quelle surprise!), so Jake and I took the motorcycles out on the peninsula for a ride all by our adult lonesome, wheeeee! We met the friendliest couple from Oregon who travelled all this way for the Harley reunion-- amazing! What an incredible thing it must be to have a passion that can take you places, I really need to look into that...
We determined that it would cost a whopping $70+ to take the kids and the cycles on the ferry to Washington Island, and would it be worth it??? That truly is the question of the day, an excellent indication of how little stress we're feeling, ahhhhhhh:-)
We twisted arms big time to get the kids on the bikes for an ice cream run, sigh! Its getting harder and harder to entice the kids to get up and moving... they enjoyed their gigantic custard sundaes while I munched on an apple, and being the less geebed out afterwards, kicked their butts on the ride back home (I felt so good, I rode up the huge hill to get out of the ice cream place TWICE. I remember being *barely* able to get out of there the last time we went a couple years ago, and each and every time before then..)
Of course, the ride was spectacular, stunning, breathtaking (I'm running out of adjectives here, so let's just say it was pretty dang fabulous) and funny, since I remember the trails as being a little more grueling than they actually were, go figure. Either the ride wasn't so bad because I wasn't hauling dead weight in the form of a bike trailer or trail-a-bike (one of the few advantages of parenting adolescents, yippie yahooey! I flew past those poor trailer draggers and tried very hard not to gloat, tee hee), or my daily self abuse back home is increasing my stamina. Either way, I'm loving it.
It got dark waaaay too early the first night, and since I neglected to bring any evening entertainment, the boys went promptly to sleep while Grace and I twiddled our thumbs-- it was only 9 pm, for cripes sake! So we girls mustered up the ambition to make an evening trip to the beach to check out the stars (and fairly uncharacteristic of our lazy, scaredy cat selves). The beach also happens to be the only place in the whole gigantic campground that has a cell signal *and* a place to charge Grace's phone, so off we went.
Being the ever smart girl, Grace had the brilliant idea to bring a lantern, a tiny thing that I scoffed at: as a self proclaimed master navigator, I thought for sure that we didn't need a light. After all, I had my phone (which casts like a tiny flicker of light, woo hoo), and we were just going to the beach, an easy, 5 minute walk from our campsite.
The night sky was breathtaking, you could see every constellation and galaxy with perfect clarity, making for excellent stargazing. That, and Grace could return all 600 of the texts she received when there was no signal, and I could sit and read my favorite blogs by the light of the stars. We felt like quite the clever girls, mixing the very best the world has to offer: the night sky, the wind blowing off the water, the faint call of an owl... and reading the Crunchy Con blog and Natalie Dee comics.
Thought we'd see other techno addicts hiding out by the light of the moon, but we were the only ones, compounding the feeling that we are worse off than most, but no surprise there.
At around 11, the lure of the camp bed beckoned, and so I set off alone with my trusty iPhone, as Grace wasn't quite ready to head back. And off I went into the pitch black night... feeling the confidence that I initially had of my stellar navigational skills flicker and wane with each step I made. Where the hell was I anyway? Which direction was I heading-- and was our camp this way, or over that way? I had no flippin clue. All of a sudden the panic crept in, even tho I was only a 2 minute walk from where I started: I was lost, in the pitch black, and was flooded with visions of wandering around in the night aimlessly until morning (the greatest fear being that I'd miss my morning bike ride). The panic went straight to my gut, a ridiculous thing, since I knew how to get back to where I started and the bathrooms nearby (if only I could get there in time!). It was a strange reaction, one of those sympathetic "fight or flight" things I'd heard about in nursing school but thought was far below my civilized self.
I was walking as fast as I could-- all the while FREAKING OUT--listening to the sound of my flip flops as they hit the trail beneath me that I felt but could not see. Gar!
Made it back, just.in.time... to wail my lost status to my totally UNsympathetic daughter (I even texted her "I'm lost", to which she replied "like I care"-- evil, bad daughter;-).
I convinced her that we needed to leave right then and there with her lantern so we could make it back together, and THE SAME FREAKING THING HAPPENED AGAIN. We got totally turned around, weaved and bobbed on our way to finding the trail, and got stopped by the Rangers, who were no help at all, really. I think they thought they were busting a couple of teens drinking on the beach (hence the weaving), and told us the trail was "over there" (yah, we knew that... but finding it was another deal altogether). So off we went again, like big time dorks, feeling for the road beneath us to guide us *somewhere*: our first attempt led us out of the campground altogether, so we backtracked, looked for landmarks barely remembered, backtracked again, and then went for it and picked a path. It was the wrong path, but thought we remembered that it took us to the camper (Grace thought it was in one direction, I thought it was the other.... and mom overruled).
THANK GOD! After wandering around in the dark for 45 minutes we made it back to camp, humbled and grateful... and shamed, as the "clueless girls who should never venture out" we truly are. No more will I boast about being able to find my way in the dark sans flashlight, for even with a light source was still able to get myself lost, boo (and no, Jake was not worried and thought it was funny, said: "you two should do that sort of stuff more often", sheesh!)
The rest of the vacation was pretty chilled, the kids sleeping in as long as possible, me taking long bike rides in the early am (averaging 15- 30+ miles per day).
I can't describe how beautiful and fun the trails are to ride: I'd start out by the beach (and check my emails, tee hee), ride along the shore, a knotty trail with great little hills and sharp corners... I've taken a liking to riding my bike as hard as possible, using my upper body to pull the bike up, over, and side to side, showing it who's boss (fully realizing that one day it will throw me over the handlebars and really let me know..). The sensation of flying, of maneuvering my body to work with the rise and fall of the land was incredible. The best way I can illustrate the joy I felt was when I saw a little 7 or 8 year old girl on the trail, pedaling her bike with abandon: she would stand up, sit down, pedal like crazy, and cruise... you could see her turn her head to catch the wind to blow her hair, and she'd smile a full face, radiant grin, showing the pure elation she felt as she flew down the trail. That's how I felt, like a kid again: the pedaling almost effortless, climbing the hills with a sting and a burn, with the absolute thrill of riding downhill as fast as possible, pulling the bike to and fro to avoid tree roots and rocks, feeling strong and alive.
Each trail opened up to a new and gorgeous natural feature of the park, one better than the next: the first being the shoreline, and then the woods and bluff (my favorite! You'll be climbing some to get there, but your ass will thank you later. The views are breathtaking, and the ride down a *ton* of fun). One way takes you up, up, up the bluff even further, the other only part of the way, but both eventually take you to an open meadow, a basin lined with mature cedars and prairie flowers. Soon, you'll find yourself at the Ranger's station, and it'll be time to head back the way you came, so you can revisit all the gorgeous spots all over again, before you end up back at the beach.
I tried to get as many miles behind me as I could before the guilt set in that I was holding up the family, but no one seemed to care.
We rented double kayaks on our second day, which was an incredible upper body workout and *tons* of fun. I've been trying to get Jake to ok the purchase of a couple decent kayaks for us and a Sunfish (sailboat) for the kids, and maybe I've convinced him now... we are the toy family, for sure, and are so blessed for it!
We paddled out to Horseshoe Island and explored the trails (in a bikini and flip flops, what a woman...), where Grace was accosted by a millipede and narrowly escaped with her life.
Paddling back was a pain as Grace decided she'd rather be the passenger vs an active paddler, but I was able to amp up my endurance by singing Fiona Apple and Ditty Bops songs (thank god we were out of hearing range for anyone) and make it back in time for our 2 hour limit. Man! Did my shoulders hurt so good the next day:-)
The kids hung on the beach quite a lot, I rode my bike, Jake did a little of both, and we were able to get the kids out for one motorcycle ride out to the end of the peninsula-- beautiful! On the return trip, we stopped in Ephraim, to find a cute but misplaced hippie couple singing and playing slide guitar, with the girl occasionally doing hula hoop tricks (a la Cirque Du Soleil?). Being in the midwest, most folks initially looked confused as to what to make of such free spirited goings on, but eventually relaxed and it became almost normal to see people expressing themselves openly in the public square.
It was nice, took me back a few... I remember being free that way in other parts of the country, and was it the place that made it possible, 0r was it just who I was at the time?
I think it was mostly the location: Santa Fe, Tuscon, and parts of Texas being far more open to artistic people, but of course was a completely different girl back then (and sometimes I miss her).
Jake and I wrapped up the trip with one last motorcycle ride out to Bailey's Point (while the kids beached it yet again per their choice, hopeless relaxers!). We made it back just in time to strap the bikes back on the trailer and thoroughly irritate Mr Punctual Dude, the guy who was to take residence in our camp once we left and had to wait 15 WHOLE MINUTES to do so... (poor Punctual Guy. We sometimes would like to be him, but he didn't look to happy, having obviously taken great personal pains to show up at EXACTLY the correct time with his stuff and his family, and then had to wait. Makes being the Slow Boats and Wal Mart campers seem that much more appealing..)
So there ya have it: our 5 day vacation in a nutshell (sortof).
We reconnected, felt the joy and pain of what it means to be a family, holed up in a metal box for days on end, realizing that even tho what we have is fractured and dysfunctional, is precious nonetheless.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
As a former (reaaallly bad) gymnast, I find this completely funny, yet still amazing...look at how strong the guy is; even in parody, he's still impressive! Sigh!
p.s. interesting little diet factoid: the shorts I could barely squeeze into a few weeks ago are now so loose that I can almost pull them off without unbuttoning them, strange. But other than feeling a little more toned, think I look exactly the same, which is even stranger.. (BDD? ya gotta wonder)
We'll be spending hours and hours on our bikes over the next few days up at Peninsula State Park, wheeeeeeeeeeeee! We used to average 30-50 miles a day some days when the kids were little (and didn't complain as much), not sure if we'll be able to match that, but we'll certainly try. Maybe said shorts will simply fall off of their own accord once we return home, and wouldn't THAT be entertaining?
Hopefully we'll be able to bring the motorcycles as well and check out the peninsula SANS the geebish motorhome, which gives me the worst car sickness *ever*, esp when navigating narrow, winding roads. There's a certain romance to exploring Door County via motorcycle, making a lovely and long overdue trip even more so.
My guy is older than me, yet 99% of the time he doesn't act like it... but it's becoming clear that in spite of this, his DNA is well apprised that he's firmly entrenched in his middle age.
So what are all these middle aged guys starting to do?
Buy motorcycles, that's what. And not only are they buying the dang things, but they're planning extensive, cross country trips, buying waterproof chaps and hideous, space age boots they can barely walk in that are supposed to make a long, uncomfortable journey less so (how? Je ne sais pas!)
It's almost as if their genetic makeup is saying, "look guys, most of you weren't supposed to make it thru the 70's, being seriously testosterone soaked meatballs and such... quite a few of you narrowly dodged the AIDS crisis of the 80's, and really, since you have far exceeded my expectations for life span, it's long overdue that you start to think about how to eliminate yourself from the gene pool".
And truly, what's the best and most efficient means of accomplishing that?
Buy a motorcycle.
Well, having worked with a few realllly miserable old people this past week at the hospital, a quick and dramatic ending might be the wise choice, after all... let's just hope that fate is kind to these foolish, aging men and they don't live out the remainder of their days on a spinal cord injury unit.
But good god! Leather chaps on a paunchy, balding dude? If fate is kind to *me*, let the vision be removed from my mind, such that I won't be tormented with it for evermore.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
I'm becoming a regular.
Which basically means that some of the more routine riders are becoming familiar, and even though I have never spoken to any of them, have begun to construct identities for them:
There's a skinny older guy who rides pretty much the same route I do, the 10 mile loop. He plugs away at it at a fairly quick pace, but in blue jeans and a button up, plaid shirt.
What's the deal, plaid shirt guy?
Maybe he has yet to discover the wonders of lycra and the beneficial effect being jeans-free will have on his nether parts.
And then there's the driven, sporty guy I see all over the dang place, on he bike trail and most of the roads surrounding our property. He's well appointed in his schnazzy bike duds and helmet, super cool Lance Armstrong glasses (no doubt), and flies like the wind on the trails, kicking my ass (fo shizzle!).
That guy is out there, rain or shine, tearing up the roads and bulking up his already dreamy thighs... sigh! I avoid eye contact for fear that I will get lost in his athletic fabulousness... but I digress (je m'excuse, tee hee).
Why is he there everyday, how can he go so fast? (In defense of fastness, tho, I rode a hard 10 miles in under 45 minutes tonight-- getting faster all the time, wheeeeeeee!)
Then there's the middle aged gal who rollerblades with her teenage daughter; she's made great progress in her technique since I first saw her out there, looking most timid and afraid of how hard the ground is, and how far away.
Today, she was flying down the trail, looking triumphant and a wee bit more slender...
And every so often I'll see an older lady cruising on the trails on a bike with an empty baby seat... she gives a general air of unfriendliness, doesn't like to connect and give the perfunctory "hi" and nod as you whiz past her. She looks a little exotic, like a misplaced gypsy woman who is wary of strangers, even those she sees daily on the bike trail.
You have to wonder: why are we all here, day after day?
Each of us has a story to tell, a motivator that keeps us returning to the sore ass and sweaty, bugs in our teeth trail.
It would be nice if each of us had a sign, indicating our particular driving force (and/or pathology):
"Recent Divorce" (the reason a co worker quit smoking a couple years ago and became a triathelete, losing over 100# in the process), "Sexually Frustrated", "Tired of Being Overweight", "Running Away From My Husband and Kids", "Proving to Myself That I Can Do It"... all these reasons and more (altho I think the dude with the plaid shirts could slip his frustrations down a notch with some fashion tips and a trip to Kohl's).
But I'll continue to keep a lookout for my compatriots of cycling, united perhaps not by what drives us but by the wind in our hair and the benefits it affords us all.
p.s. went shopping today, and I'm down a SOLID pants size, and then some...and with only the slightest bit of sucking, can nearly visualize my belly being as flat as it was before I gained all that weight. I'd jump up and down, but am feeling a little faint (just kidding! Actually, I feel pretty awesome, wahoooo!).
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
#1) Everything smells bad; not sure if it's all the heat and humidity that brings out the stank in everything, but there's a pervasive air of rottenness to this month.
#2) Too many @!&%# bugs. Maybe it's cause we set a veritable cornucopia of items from the garden on the counter to rot (which ties in with #1 above), but it's hard to walk thru the kitchen without kicking up a storm of fruitflies (which will eventually make their way into your wineglass and into your mouth).
#3) Everyones gots the antsies, trying to squeeze moments of profound summer-y fabulousness into every last drop of the remaining break. The spectre of school looms heavily over the children, such that if they aren't entertained every waking moment of the day, it is a day lost, and much parental guilt ensues.
#4) You can feel autumn in the air, and it feels SCARY, like 20 degree below days (I'm projecting BIG time, all the way into winter..), nostrils freezing together, scraping windows before work when you're already leaving 5 minutes too late, fall on your ass on the ice scary. Bah!
I'm sure there's more, but I'll spare you the details...
The diet, such as it is (otherwise affectionately know as "the eating disorder") is going swimmingly; I haven't eaten basic carbs for a month now... no bread, rice, sugar, treats, etc... and I've lost a whole whopping 10 or so pounds:-(
(insert "wha whaa whaa whaaaa" sound here).
I'd love to be skin and bones by now, but I guess since it's taken me a whole lot more than a month to put the dang weight on, it'll take quite a bit longer to get it off.... boo.
I've also been fairly fastidious with my bike riding, averaging at least 10 miles per day (+/-). But what the heck am I going to do when the above-mentioned hell of winter arrives, and I can no longer vent all my frustrations via bicycle?!
I'm on the lookout for a decent exercise bike, but ho hum! I can already predict it will make a lovely drying rack and/or clothes rack... cause riding nowhere in hot pursuit of nothing will only serve to depress me. I love to GO GO GO, with a destination in mind... maybe I will have to imagine myself pedalling to the land of "Skinny Ass", to hang out with my friends "Size Eight" and "Flat Belly", beloved and sorely missed companions of old.
Not only did Jake and I ride our bikes into town for dinner, but Maggie and I tore it up on the service road, riding about 2 miles up and down, up and down... she's getting to be quite the good little trail rider, and other than her stopping abruptly to take a poop break every now and again, does a great job of not breaking my bones while I ride my bike and she trots alongside me. We haven't braved the bike trail just yet, but I'm more than happy to run her up and down the road and avoid the pain and embarrassment of her chasing after another dog and breaking my wrist, lol! Maybe next year after she mellows out.
And finally, here's a little blast from the past for a friend (emphasis on "blast"):
Horrific, yes, but essential to the development of the demented adults we have since become (and no doubt is why my hearing is so bad... I remember listening to this at full blast in the back seat of my parent's car with my "cassette walkman".
Shoot it up(and pass the hearing aids...)!
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
1) Persistent "crack o the ass" pain-- and, no; you CAN'T put Tiger Balm on it... (you can try, but I highly discourage it).
2) When you get home from a ride, hang out for an hour, and then look in the mirror; to discover that your face is speckled with dead bugs. Isn't there some rule somewhere that if people notice you have dead bugs on your face, they're suppposed to let you know?!
3) Pain in your nether parts (the ones that AREN'T your ass), that can best be described as "chappy lips". This must be why bikers wear goofy looking lycra pantalones vs low rise jean shorts with the thick seam in the crotch.
Anyhoo: I was reminded today of how powerful it is to be seen and noticed-- it's a whole different experience than what I've grown accustomed to, it's quite nice.
Monday, August 11, 2008
I swear... even though I've done quite a bit of music posting lately.
Perhaps with my recent backtrack to the land of adolescence, music seems to resonate lately the way it did as a kid when every word carried volumes and volumes of meaning-- better than I could ever explain anything on my own.
These gals share my obsession with bike riding (times like a million) and are among my favorites; this song reminds me of right now, as I think I'll be looking at it in retrospect someday:
Sunday, August 10, 2008
I just discovered that it's been *six whole days* since my last blog!
But I have to tell ya, it's all the fault of that dang job of mine.
I discovered at a wee young age that employment interferes with all sorts of fun, blogging among them. I worked a whole heap o days last week, all of them crazy hectic psychotic days, the ones where you get home and either crawl on the couch for the duration of the evening and begin drinking heavily, or jump on the bike and squeeze a ride in before the lethargy hits you.
Mostly, I jumped on the bike.
It's wonderful to be a working stiff when the kids are away, as very little time needs to be spent on feeding people... one night I brought Jake home some drug rep luncheon leftovers (that had been sitting out for 4 hours, shhhhh...), and another I left him to fend for himself while I scarfed down a handful of nuts and called it a day (only a smidgen simpler than my personal favorite-- "peanut butter on a stick"-- single girl dinner of old).
Since I started adding more carbs to my diet, the "I'm never hungry" thing went away, and I'm hungry pretty much all the time again, but ohwell. The same will power that keeps me from running away to join the circus every time the children or my husband drives me crazy will have to suffice to keep me from stuffing my face at every waking moment, and so far, so good... I don't look like a supermodel or even like a refugee from a work camp just yet, but I'll keep plugging away at it until my diet goals are met;-)
On a whole different note, I was freakishly attacked yesterday by our rescue kitty: the little snot faced monster latched his razor sharp claws deep into the flesh of my neck and then proceeded to claw his way down my back. I look like a slasher victim...
Someone seriously needs to take this cat off our hands, as I'm starting to have "squish like bug" fantasies involving cute little kitties. Mr. Charlie cat would like his ass on a platter as well; I thought the boys would be getting along by now, but no deal, and he's made it clear that it's going to have to be him, or the kitty-- Charlie's already made a little place for himself out by the chicken coop in the tall garden flowers that he hides in during the day to get away from his nemesis. Poor guy...and since Charlie has never gone Ginsu on my tender parts, there's no contest as to who will be evicted.
So things are finally starting to get back to normal after the "great life assessment and 20 year reunion" upheaval.
In the aftermath, and much to my pleasure, I've been left with a nifty bike riding obsession (great time to think *and* abuse your body at the same time, both useful for catharsis) and the jump start of an awesome weight loss plan (I had no appetite for weeks as I was pondering all manner of weighty, existential issues, or at least the very best ones I could manufacture...). Now, weeks later, I've emerged on the other side, thinner, more muscular, and sporting a new sense of self. Not a bad experience overall.
In another embarassing move, I did something kindof funny today. Whilst on the bike trail this morning, I took every opportunity to make comments to each and every meatball who had their LARGE, mostly uncooperative dogs off leash. How irritating... the trails are all clearly marked "keep your dogs leashed", but obviously that doesn't apply to the people who own unruly, oversized animals. It's people like that that make it very difficult for people like me to walk my smaller, well behaved dog on the trail, as being confronted by bigger, unleashed dogs makes her very tweaky (especially since being bitten). My most recent combination of vitamins and new found sense of self must be making me BOLD, lol! It felt good to be so sassy, RARRRRRRRRRR!
So much more to say, so little time left in my last remaining day of freedom before the work week starts anew.... maybe I can continue this later when the sun goes down and I don't feel so bad for blogging while it's so nice outside.
Later: even though I am clueless about all things mechanical, I have developed a freakish mind-meld connection with my bike. As I was riding it the other day, it felt strange-- and altho I couldn't see anything wrong with it (see "clueless" statement above), I knew something was wrong... subtle, but wrong.
Sure enough, pedaling even on the easy stretches got harder and harder, and while I wanted to chalk at least some of it up to out of shape slugginess, knew that it wasn't just me.
I got home, and noticed that the rear tire now had visible damage, and was splitting at the rim.
So off to the bike shop I went, and not only did I get my tire replaced on my very own like a Big Girl, but I broke down and got a brand, spankin new saddle that is booty-lectable and hopefully won't make me quite as sore as my old one.
Can you tell that I've been listening to the dance club channel (#36 on Sirius Satellite Radio) all week now? Loooooooove it!
Tell me, what does this video make you want to do?
I'll let 'cha think about it...
Monday, August 4, 2008
Today, while Grace and I were in the car, this *brilliant* song came on the radio. It's quite possibly my favorite forgotten song in the world, which speaks a volume or two about me...
And these are totally my people, my tribe--where o where can they be?
I would love nothing more than to wear a patterened body suit and platform heels and rock out on a spiral platform, if only it wouldn't traumatize my children;-0
The only bad thing is that I'm sure to have a tiny, disembodied head singing backup vocals in my brain all day tomorrow...
Best iPhone video ever, too.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
But it's worth the occasional hangover to be able to connect and reminisce, figure things out, offer apologies for things said and done when we were new and just starting to build the pathologies that were to become the foundation of our adult selves.
How can you adequately apologize for being an alcohol sodden idiot, for mistakes made 20 years ago, for things you did/things that were done to you that weren't intentional (see "alcohol sodden idiot" admission above)?
Given the right collection of circumstances, anyone can be a fuck up-- especially when the whole world is before you and you're still clueless as to how it all comes together. Throw in some alcohol, and there's no telling what you can destroy; friendships being the first among the casualties, self worth a close second.
And how easy it is to forgive yourself when you barely remember the details-- drinking is fairly insidious that way-- but one day, even if it's many years later, you'll learn that not everyone forgets...
Is there ever forgiveness? A pseudo-resolution that doesn't involve deeply buried anger disguised as forgiveness? Dunno.
I've forgiven all sorts of stuff over the years, mostly 'cause it required too much energy to remember, to continue being angry, and because I sometimes can distance myself from the offending party (even moving away forever, but I'm discovering lately that this has it's own repercussions...).
Well, my old friend: the world has chewed us both up and spit us out, strangely in close proximity to each other once again... please accept my apology for being young and stupid, for hurting you. I didn't mean it.
And please accept my apology for not remembering, perhaps the shittiest thing of all.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Tres 80's, no?
I have a new found obsession with this song, if only for today (fickle girl!)... the lyrics are a wee bit sad, tho:-(
This was our Zumba warmup song, which is probably a subliminal indication that I need to get back to class. I <3 heart Zumba, the most fun you can have with your clothes on, hands down.
I have to tell ya, tho: the song really kept my wheels turning tonight when I was too sore to keep going... I think my thighs and all their connected parts need a break for a couple days before I start riding to work each day.
Bike riding trivia:
I think I really like to ride my bike because--every so often--I catch a whiff of something that reminds me of my childhood. You never get more than one inhalation of whatever it is before it's gone, but being transported to places, albeit briefly, is pretty magical and well worth the sore spots.
Oh good lord, Grace just turned on "Titanic"; not 100% sure if I can watch it, too many angsty sort of issues contained therein: wealth vs character, freedom vs the expectations and limits that privilege brings... the painful dance. Me? I'd rather be the self made gal who has the option to thumb her nose at the status quo and slum it up in steerage, always the better party. The option is the key, though.
And should our gal have married the rich, snooty dude and skipped hanging with the cute, poor guy? Meh. Not sure. Pretty much everyone died afterwards, so she might as well...obviously, the girl got one good roll in the hay she would never forget, always a useful thing when you're old and reminiscing... interesting times, to be sure. I recently read the book: "Devil in the White City", absolutely fascinating recount of the era just prior to the Titanic.
Friday, August 1, 2008
It was a great ride there, practically all downhill (of a sort..), but then the ride home was more challenging: wind in the face, uphill, and tired from the first 5.1 miles rode at full tilt.
I got some news yesterday I've decided I'm going to let roll: that I wasn't going to be offered a permanent position after all.
My boss also made it plain that it would be very unlikely that she would *ever* be able to offer me one, due to the mo-fo union and their system that gives anyone in the hospital first choice of positions over me whether they're the most qualified or not... boo.
But maybe it's a blessing as disguise... and I'll treat it as such, until I have any tangible reason to get worried. I still make quite a bit more $$ as a pool staff (at the top of my pay scale) which is a nice perk... and not having to do call hours is sweeeeeeeeeeet!
So sometimes being rejected is a good thing, and when I show up to work hot, sweaty, and tired next week I won't have the slightest bit o guilt about it, neither (bwahahahahaaaaa!)