May We Go All The Way

No cook, mason jar oatmeal.                      

Four years ago I had a girlfriend. Weird to be saying girlfriend in my mid-fifties, (well, I wasn't mid at the time) but still . . .   that's what we were, girlfriends. And April per FB memories was our signature month. She shared and spoke with me much four years ago April  Not to long beyond April she stopped talking and eventually, broke up with me. But, I am veering off track. The track being: healthy eating. My good friend over at 8th Day proposes a community challenge of small changes to daily eating that will hopefully lead to lasting changes toward eating healthily.

Some of the small changes referenced in the post  are changes that I'd already adopted on some level but I have not been consistent to the discipline. Thus, I am joining the challenge. One of my hurdles is having healthier options readily available. Which brings me back to the girlfriend.

Four years ago she shared a no cook, mason jar oatmeal recipes link.I bookmarked the link but had not ever gotten around to trying any of the recipes. Then, we broke up, life took a turn toward death, grief, unemployment, and . . . well, suffice to say, I forgot all about living healthily let alone, no cook mason jar oatmeal.

If not for the "On This Day" FB feature no cook, mason jar oatmeal would have remained forgotten. Now, however, I am anxious to pick up the supplies and ingredients needed to make several days worth. I am already doing smoothies a couple of days a week, oatmeal in a more traditional serving method for a couple others. Breakfast done healthier is rolling along fairly well. The no cook, mason jar oatmeal will help mightily.

Lunch and Dinner need much more work. In preparation of the challenge, my grocery list included more fruit and vegetables. My week one challenge is to include at least one vegetable with both lunch and dinner this week.  

In addition to taking on the May Healthier Eating Challenge, May is also National Bike Month. My hope is

that weather permitting Melody and I are rolling more and more hours this month. April has been dismally wet and cold. Not at all conducive to Melody trips. Here's to taking a lasting turn toward sustainable lifestyle changes and healthier living. Thank you to FB for prompting a memory. Though the relationship ran aground, I am happy for having had the experience. I remember much of our time together fondly, now.

#healthier eating challenge week 1 

March On

A wee bit of randomness for this last Monday in March: 

Sunday was nice enough, long enough for a short ride; first of the season. Given-the-givens body feeling pretty good. A damn sight away from agile, but again, given-the-givens, pretty good. 

Tuesday (tomorrow) is the anniversary of the birth of this blog. I updated the inaugural post last year to commemorate the event, late. This year I am early. Whoopee. ten Years. Wow. WoW  

Saturday I intend to attend the first social event not connected to family in some/any way in many, many, (even more many) months. I'm a little nervous. Okay, I am a lot nervous. 

I do not believe Spring is here to stay yet. The photo shown is a couple of years old but is from a group labeled, "snow in April" (though THIS photo was taken in May). Point is, too soon to dust off the Spring togs, full on. My daughter is of the opinion that the winterizing efforts should remain in place until after 5 days of wanting to open the windows have gone by.  Five days feels long to long for fresh air. But, she has a point. We'll see how this week plays out, weather wise. 

The coffee experiment is going well. The household is now out of coffee. Having a cup at home means going out, which I am not apt to do. As far as coffee on the way to work, or at work, I feel the handle on that is fully and firmly grasped, given I've already gone two weeks without succumbing to either of those options. . 

And as for how I feel . . . given-the-givens, pretty good.

#MicroBlogMonday   

Welcome to May

*click image for link* 

     

May is National Bike Month. Next week is National Bike to Work Week with the events culminating on Friday, the 15th, National Bike to Work Day! That out of the way, rest assured Melody and I will not be biking to MY workplace as I am on the other side of the average spectrum.

My workplace is not within five miles of home base. My workplace is over 10 miles from home base. Further, I am a good distance away from being in the kind of shape that can do 10+ miles once a day, let alone, twice.






Never-the-less, I do plan, hope, and expect to increase my time aboard Melody. I will pedal the month away as the weather and my body allows. May Spring bleed into Summer and good biking weather be the norm rather than the exception. Happy pedaling.


#MicroBlogMonday

Nothing and Not Quite Everything

#MicroblogMondays

First and foremost, happy Spring, officially. The weather has been un-Spring like of late, but hey, on the calendar IT IS SPRING and hope is alive that warmer weather will follow.

In that vein and in no particular order, thoughts, events, and ideas that have sprung in recent days:

1. The actor booked an episode of Chicago Fire and it aired last Tuesday. The episode titled, "Forgiving, Relentless, Unconditional" is available on-line. He comes on-screen at about the 37 minute mark.

2. It is very weird seeing your kid now a man, on television. I thought seeing him on stage was weird (exhilarating, but weird) screen is that multiplied by thousands. More, even.

3. Mom's oldest sibling celebrated her 95th birthday a few weeks ago. I have a couple of cousins who are struggling to make it to sixty, by way of contrast.

4. The Starbucks© #RaceTogether campaign  . Stumble out the gate, looking forward to next steps.

5.. THIS: My life is a struggle of constantly wanting to go out and have fun with people and also simultaneously trying to avoid human contact.

6. It has been mentioned here before and you may read it again, and again, I LOVE potato chips. Well, potatoes in most any form, but chips--on me, oh my.. That said, I haven't had any potato chips in over six weeks. (Yes, I relapsed went on a bender). The loss was re-gained and now, on the way back down, again.

7. Saturday (over Sunday) was more conducive to riding and so I did. Not crazy fast (that isn't ever going to happen) or crazy far (only about 5 miles round trip) but good to be out, good to not have collapsed upon return.

8. Discipline: per Merriam-Webster.com  5b: orderly or prescribed conduct or pattern of behavior.

9. Song lyric: would you mind, if I made love to you 'till I'm satisfied?.  haunting and halting. Stop.

10. Speaking of lyrics: Happy Really:? Clap along if you feel like a room without a roof. Really?

10a. Was the last film I saw in a theater August: Osage County?

And today: <>bSNOW

Ride On Time

My seventh birthday gift from my recently separated, soon-to-be divorced parents was a bicycle. She was blue. She had skinny wheels, zero speeds, but raced like the wind, as fast as my legs could pedal. This gift represented my first taste of freedom, from my brothers, from the block, from my seven year old worries.

I just rode.

The first, Samantha, had to be retired at some point in my early teens. I struggled mightily to earn enough to buy my next set of wheels. She was a second-hand number, black, and heavy. Not a good fit. I kept her for a season and then traded her for the wheels that carried me right through the rest of my time with my mother and brothers. When things got tense at home, I hopped aboard and rode, no matter the time of day. It was not unusual for me to be cruising the streets of Chicago at 3 or 4 in the morning.

I rode to ease my 15-16 year old worries.

Today, four decades later, being on a bike is still my solace. This weekend presented near perfect riding weather and so I rode. Loosened the limbs, freed some cobwebs.

Freedom. Sweet.

#Microblog Monday

Oh, By the Way

As luck, fate, and/or serendipitous brio might have it, last week was full of wind, rain, cold . . . drear. And so, the plan to pedal at least 30 minutes every other day or so was thwarted. So, no Melody until very late Saturday afternoon.

Early evening, actually.

Melody and I cruised the the second nearest park. Once there we rode the perimeter of the park four or five times, took the scenic route home.If if had to guess, I'd say we logged about 5 miles. It was slow going and a bit challenging what with the high winds and lack of movement throughout the week.

But as is in her nature, Melody supported me well.

Hopefully the coming week will yield better weather conditions.

In other news:

1. I'm angling for the opportunity to visit new business, BFF Bikes soon.

2. The actor just wrapped a show. And has begun another.  And just as he closes that one, the next one will     be about ready to boot. 

3. Buttah has an eye infection. He's been on meds for a couple of days now and is improving.

4. A friend sent me some art supplies.They are happily integrated and will be in use very soon. Thank         you so very much!

5. THIS is one creepy commercial.

6. I submitted a sample (the first third of the last post) to this site, thanks to a friend's FB posting.
    The result: Stephen King.

I must really get to bed now. I hope everyone has a kick-ass Monday (and beyond).

♥ ♥ ♥

Dear Melody,

As you know, the sun decided to make an appearance early this morning, kicking the early weather predictions in the teeth. I believe you had some hand in this event. How? I don't know, but that is what I believe. You wanted and perhaps needed the morning to unfold as it did as much (if not more) and I.

And unfold it did . . . temperature, sun, all the elements doing its part to present to us the ideal conditions for the inaugural run of the season.

Two cups of coffee, a bowl of cereal later I was ready. And there you were, readied days before in preparation, waiting patiently, confidently.
More confident than I, truth be told. Even though the run was nothing too complicated. Nothing too twisted. Nothing too involved. A small errand, an easy jaunt a bit over two miles, round trip.

Easy. Peasy.

Well, as it turns out not quite so easy and I have no idea what peasy means, if it even is a word, but it was nowhere to be found in the jaunt either. My knees crackled, my breaths shortened, and my back protested, but onward I pedaled, your shiny confidence urging me on.

Still, I must confess, my mind spun with alternatives for the return trip while securing you to the corral after the first leg. But, after I emerged from the post office, the parcel I'd gone to pick up safely packed in the bag, secured to my back, I noticed the wind velocity had lessened, the sun shone brighter, the traffic had eased.

Again, I know all that was your doing. You're a mighty force, my lovely blue machine.

So, thank you for being the strong one; for easing me up that slight incline, for steering me toward the softer, less pot-holed roads, for not mocking my ever so inelegant wheezing, the deafening noise of the crackling knees. Thank you for holding fast to our near snail's pace even as I ever so briefly, entertained of idea of being offended by the jogger in the pink fluorescent top out running us.

We made it back to the homestead, much as we left; you confident and me, achy but happy. You are parked in your usual place--anxious to weave your magic for the next clear day--for our next opportunity to be as one, again and again and again.

I am so grateful to have gotten this inaugural run under our collective belts, so happy it went as well as it did.

And so again, thank you for being there for me and being ready to go on the whims on the wind and the knees.

You are so lovely, my might blue machine.

Love,

Deborah
♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥  

The Gift

My good friend Maxine gave me a gift*. Her gift offered entry into a community of sharing. A prompt will be presented each day. I can choose to participate or not. In either case, I get to see other entries, reflect and relate to my life, as needed. No pressure. No deadlines. No supplies to buy.

Today I chose to participate. The first prompt: PLAY.  Accompanying the above image the text as follows:

Throughout my childhood play meant music and bicycles, not necessarily together but all the better if such was the case. I am not a musician by any stretch but love music and the art of creating same. I am not an expert cyclist either but from my very first ride at age 7, reveled in the joy (and the freedom) it allowed. 2013 was an extremely trying and challenging year. For a variety of reasons that I have not been able to fully articulate, neither music or bicycling offered the solace I needed. I didn't play. I couldn't play. Now I feel as though I must play, if only for a little bit, everyday.

And so, here's to the first day of 2014 and my effort to bring some measure of play back into my day-to-day. 


*Mandala Discovery: 30 Days of Mandala Journaling

R-O-L-L

We've been making the trip to the train station every work day, except on "interview" days. I really miss seeing her sparkly carriage when I disembark from the "EL" on those days, having to face the long (okay, not too long, but long enough) walk home, especially in my hard soled shoes.

I go to bed Friday nights feeling like we'll rise early Saturday morning to go cruising along the Illinois Prairie Path for a mile or two (or better?) But so far, we haven't risen early (enough) and we haven't ventured further than the library or the 1/2 mile to our local market for yogurt and juice or . . . something (probably toilet paper).

This Saturday is the family picnic. The picnic site is twenty some miles away. So, of course no bicycling this Saturday--at least not early. Perhaps post-return, post-nap. Perhaps.

Melody, I know is chomping at the bit to test her mettle, stretch some muscles, get some air in her hair.

But I'm not there yet. I'm trying to be, in fact, thought I was . . . but, no. Not yet.

Soon, though.

I think. I hope. I must.

She's waiting, patiently.

☮ and ♥  

Revelation

ONE 

This week has been . . . telling, eye-opening, has had an air of finality. I'm still processing the biggest news of the week and am not ready to speak on it with any sense of , clarity, I guess. But, speak of it, I will. Trust.

In the meantime, know that the new Brin has a name, her own name.  Before, getting into that, allow me to reveal that I'm betwixt and between whether I'm more turned on by piano players or guitarists. This weekend it has been an equal measure of  . . .  heat.

Back to my the new Brin's back and forth re: her name. Considered and tossed were:  >Stella as in the one who got her groove back, Millie as in the thoroughly modern,  Alicia as in Keys, Bonnie as in Raitt, Sharon as in Isbin . . .    and many others, the common thread? Music or something musical, on that are in sync.

Finally, we got down to one caveat, she didn't want a name made famous by someone else, she wanted to forge her own path, so to speak. Given the givens, we then narrowed possible names down to two:

Harmony and
Melody
A coin toss later and the winner (insert arpeggio) is:  M*E*L*O*D*Y

 . . . tune, air, or theme composed of tones arranged in a pleasing succession

*the sketch is the result of spending a good chunk of the weekend trying to tame the jungle we call a yard. The rains created a condition that was bordering . . . well, let's just say, thankfully, the temps were pleasant enough and the rain held off long enough to get some growth trimmed way the heck back.

Extra! Extra!

Kim, Kanye and their baby naming drama magnetized much media this week. I stumbled upon many of the stories strictly by accident. I am as invested in their
not following the K  trend as they are in me, my own name drama, or that which brings me here today: the new Brin.
In these past few days the new Brin's personality has begun to roll forward. She is revealing herself a smooth operator. Some tweaking to her brakes and a new saddle will serve to further enhance the overall riding experience. But so far, so pleased.

Getting to know the new Brin this past week has been enlightening. And while her new identity is not yet solidified a few factors have come to light. 1. she will not Brin, the sequel. 2. She will not be hyphenated. 3. She will not be North West (or East or South).

She is already a treasured and valued member of the team. She is family.

And her name is . . .

O Say Can You See

Brin had to be retired. We missed the naked event again this year, but she was beyond the point of caring.

It's just as well, as we weren't the best fit.

There is a new Brin, though I don't think she'll be called or known as Brin. Her personality has yet to be revealed and so her name awaits.

I can tell you that the entire year while contemplating a new Brin there was much back and forth (in my mind) about the kind of person powered vehicle to acquire.

Mountain, cruiser, hybrid, or . . .  trike. Yes, trike. I will be 53 years old in a few weeks and while in OK physical shape, there are days where those fifty-three years . . . well, let's just say, gliding through the streets with care and ease (never reckless, daredevil like abandon)  is quite the trial. That said, truth be known, I never really seriously considered an adult tricycle. Partly because of storage issues but mainly because, frankly, I'm just not there. Yet.

A couple of weeks ago while out on Brin in what will be known now as our last hurrah, we came across a fellow rider on a contraption  . . . that can best be described as torture on wheels. 

W. T. F. Seriously? Then, I learned that an outfit in town has units available for rent. I repeat, W.T.F.

That expressed, the rider Brin and I saw did seem to be having a wonderful experience. She exhibited a fluidity that was worthy of marvel. However, that mechanical device, not. for. me. any more than a unicycle would be on my list of possibilities.

I chose a mountain bike. Not because I anticipate going off road anytime soon but because the wheels  and frame wide and sturdy and I need wide and sturdy. Plus, some city streets are well, rough.

The new (yet to be named, we'll call her Brin for now) is tricked out with the former <Brin's accessories; basket, lights, and the like and is ready to roll. Hopefully over the next five or so days we'll both get quite the workout and her personality will become clear(er).

In the meantime, marking the calendar for next year's naked ride. Let the training begin.
 

First Sunday in June

Younger brother (he's 50 and I'm 51 escalating toward 52) is getting married this first Sunday in June. The wedding (reportedly set for 1 PM) is his second.

I was informed on the impending nuptials last Sunday. But Mom, the informer, didn't know the time or the precise location of the ceremony. She'd prefaced the information by asking me to, "think about attending."

The additional details didn't arrive until Friday evening around seven, from the groom himself, "Hey, I'm calling to invite you to my wedding on Sunday, at one o'clock, in Aurora. We didn't have time to send out invitations and . . . . "

Long story short, I declined with no regrets.

Younger brother is a born again (and again, and again ad nauseam) christian, as well as an infantile,  narcissistic, know little know-it-all, user and abuser who has spent most his his adult life behind bars, a guest of the state. a drain on taxpayers.

But none of that directly caused me to decline his eleventh hour invite.

I declined primarily because my brother's events (first wedding, birthday parties, ordination into some kind of ministry, and holiday dinners) all have been notoriously and infamously late. Even on this past Mother's Day, we conspired to surprise our mother by appearing side-by-side to treat her to lunch and try to appear the happy family unit, he was two and a half hours late, with no apologies.

The other traits just add fuel to the furor that is our dynamic.

I realized last Sunday while Mom was trying to convince me to "support his decision" ill-conceived it may be, that while I like my younger brother well enough, and for our mother's sake, shoot for cordial whenever he and I speak or are together, I do not love him as she does. I cannot support him, as she does, unconditionally.

Still, I offered congratulations and best wishes. For despite the furor that is our dynamic,  I do wish him well, especially for the sake of all the children affected by his actions. At the end of the day, I do hope that my younger brother has, at long last, grown up and is thinking of others above himself. I hope that he has (or will soon) take the steps to "stay" his recovery, own his mistakes and work to ascend beyond them. I hope that he has stopped blaming everyone for his "crappy childhood" and using that as an excuse to be a total . . .

Anyway, while recent events and statements indicate none of the aforementioned hopes have come to fruition yet, HOPE is still the order of the day. And I do support my mother. And by so doing, affect some measure of support of my younger brother,  to a degree. I suppose.

That said, during our call on Friday I recognized that on this first Sunday in June navigating my own recovery from yet another horrid week would be best. I recognized that traipsing out to Aurora, sitting in some church waiting for a service that would have likely been at least an 1 1/2 hours late, suffering through all the "blessings of the lord" and forced cordiality with younger brother (and the stranger he will "take as his wife") was not going to be the ticket.

On this first Sunday in June I worked in the yard, helped my daughter grill meat, took a spin on my trusty Brin, ate some of the aforementioned grilled meat (and some tasty sides) watched some softball, drank a couple of beers, and de-cluttered my bedroom. All toward getting my mind and body prepped to take on the week ahead.

To wit, Happy June,  Happy "Season of Pride", and congratulations to Mr. and (the new) Mrs. Younger Brother. Perhaps  he will call the next time he's in (or on his way to) town. Perhaps we can share some cake to celebrate his union.

Happy Feeling

" . . . from deep in my soul I wish you Happy, Happy, Happy . . . " 
The weekend, meaning "the holiday" was quiet by design.  No big family gatherings. No mountains of bar-b-que and potato salad. No fuss and very little muss. Just me, the cats, the dog, M (though I didn't know he'd be around all weekend) and D. Quiet. Relatively.

It was bliss.

Well, except for the few anxious moments I spent looking for my Gopher , certain that someone had stolen another one, chiding myself for leaving it outside and really detesting the thought that someone IN the building took it. Sigh of relief when I located it in the special place I'd chosen to store it, to keep it safe(r).

And then there was the lost ip*d shuffle. I don't use it everyday. In fact, since Brin went down I've used it rather sparingly. It dawned on me one day last week that I wasn't using it (mostly) because I couldn't find it. Then of course I couldn't rest until I found it. I set out on the search, all the usual (i.e. bookcase, by the computer, in the everything box) no luck. On the verge of despair (oh ok.  it wasn't ALL that tragic, but still . . . ) I plop down on the bed to confer with Molly McBear and voila, I see the shuffle gizmo peeking out from under the bed. Mind you this is the other side of the bed. The table on that side holds my phone charger, blood pressure machine and log book, a portable cd player, mini speakers, and a small stack of music discs. On the rare occasion I have an active dream or a the less rare restless night (for some reason other than dreaming) I smash into an item or two on that table and it crashes to the floor. Why it didn't dawn on me to give the are closer inspection is a mystery for the ages.

But, those events (I won't mention seeing baby brother at mom's) aside, the weekend was quiet and in a word, blissful.

Partly due to, as mentioned up top, no gatherings, no cooking (well, not by me) no fussing and no mussing. Another part due to witnessing the actor's participation in an Independence Day celebration. I was pretty far away but I'd know the lean guy in the white linen suit anywhere. It was a grand experience.

I even went to our little town's fireworks display on Monday evening.

But, the very best, most bliss filled event of the weekend past, getting Brin UP and ROLLING again. She took me to the laundry mat. She took me to the fireworks. She took me...just took me. Being on her saddle fills me with . . . well, happy feelings. So happy, I'll spread them all over the world.

Various pals are going through some difficult times and I wish it were as easy as waving a wand, saying some words to happy away said difficulties. I know it isn't, but note to each of you know you are on my mind, in my heart and I hope there is some happy feelings in your air, soon.

Nakedness

As of this writing Miss Brin is still one wheel less. I haven't ventured out to secure a wheel, tube, and tire for Miss Brin because my mom has an acquaintance. Mom told me her acquaintance had bike parts; lots and lots of bike parts. She further told me that said acquaintance would be happy to check his bike parts stash and if he located the parts I (and Brin) needed he'd give them to me (us). 

I asked mom if acquaintance only had parts; did he have whole bikes? For I'm considering a new (used) bike as well. "No," she said, "only parts." 

Well, after week one acquaintance relayed to my mom that he didn't have time to look for the parts but he would get someone to help him. 

Now, two weeks later, acquaintance relayed to my mom that he doesn't have the wheel but we does have a ladies 10 speed to give away. I ask my mom if it is a racer, mountain, or what? She doesn't know and wondered what's the diff? 

I won't get into the intricacies of that conversation with my mom but know that it ended with me accepting with graciousness whatever the brand, model, condition this entire bike (that he didn't have two weeks ago) he now has to offer. Best case: with some modifications I can ride it. Second best case: daughter can ride it. Third best case: I can raid it for parts, or sell it, or give it away to someone else.

The downside to Brin being one wheel less these past weeks is that she missed the most recent installment of the Naked Bike Ride. She was most disappointed. 

Maybe next year. 

Violated

It has been a horrible spring, i.e. beginnings of bike riding season. Leaving aside the cold and wet weather, as well as the skin ills and other stresses there were bike repairs to execute before any riding could be done. 

Repairs executed, Brin* and I did get out toward the end of last month for a few laps around one of the local parks. The plan this year as in years past was to use the early part of the season to get back into biking to work shape. However, the wonky health and wonkier weather has not allowed for much more than an occasional jaunt to the train station where I lock her up and leave her for the ride home (and weather permitting, some extra).     

However, now even that little bit of riding must be tabled for the time being.  Last Friday I'd ridden Brin to the train station and after having suffered throughout the day, the outbreak growing more severe with each passing hour, looked forward to re-connecting with my lovely and having her help get my very itchy self home. But that was not to be. My bad day turned even worse when I emerged from the train station to see Brin leaning, balancing on only one wheel, locked to a bike rack. 


Some cretin with a crescent wrench (or similar tool) had taken Brin's back wheel with the brand new gel filled inner tube and brand new white wall tire.  


Damn. I'm not a crier as a general rule of thumb (though, since approaching and then turning 50, tears come easier than ever before) and they came right there on the street, just a little bit. I wasn't at all up to unlocking Brin and half carrying, half rolling her the six or so blocks home, but I couldn't leave her locked to the rack, vulnerable to further violations.  


She will be repaired again. It may take another two to three weeks, deep into spring and nearly summer before I will be able to ride. If the recent weather pattern is any indication there won't be ample opportunities in the coming days anyway. 


When she is returned to glory additional safety measures will be employed.  


I detest that I'd been lulled into a sense of security that prevented me from taking those measures before. 


I detest that I'm being forced to spend money I didn't anticipate for additional and now, more costly repairs. 


I detest that that I'll be without Brin's able service (wonky weather aside) for two or three (or more) weeks it will take to secure and replace the parts. 


I detest cretins who troll the town with crescent wrenches (or similar tools) preying on lovely Brins and others like her. 


The very worst wrinkle in this entire episode was speaking to my mother later that evening. Achy from the itching, weepy from . . . everything, I heard myself whine when I began to tell her about my Brin. 


W-H-I-N-E!! to my mother. Oh me, oh my. 


*Yes, I named my bike Brin. I realized in the telling of this tale there is no precedent in the archives. I'd only mentioned "Brin" in other media. ;-)  

Day Two: Cake and Then Some

Well into day two of five toward celebrating birthday number FIVE-ZERO and I tell you, it couldn't have been a better day two. Actually, since Michael is out of town, Dani at work most of the day, and considering I am single, I suppose it could have been better, but it has been pretty danged good.

This day didn't start with cake, but cake features prominently. But, I'll get to that later. I'd like to send big, HUGE, hugs, and kisses to a cache of friends, they know who they are, and I'll speak to take more prominently later, but for now...y'all ROCK!!

I remember telling someone, sometime that I didn't cry when I'm happy (don't -usually- cry much at all) only when I'm sad, but I shed tears today, of pure joy at the warmth and friendship exhibited by the ladies. I repeat, y'all ROCK!!

Now, about the cake. Mom ordered me a cake from a local grocer / baker. And to paraphrase a line from "Total Recall" , I asked her not to, but she did anyway. And as little related to my mom is easy-peasy, I ran into a big of a snafu when I went to pick up said cake. Yes, I had to pick up my cake because my mom is mobility challenged and getting back to this particular store which isn't on a major transpo route, would have proven . . . challenging, I offered / agreed to pick it up.

I got to the store after having consumed 1/2 of a kick-ass chocolate martini and proceeded to the bakery (after making a stop in dairy for half n half, I'll explain in a bit) where I presented the order ticket AND receipt. The clerk / baker who came over just after dusting some powdered sugar on some one's something or another, took the ticket and went to get the cake. Upon her return, the following exchange:

Clerk (to her associate, other clerk or OC): How much dis cake?

OC: $6.99

Clerk: but this is a two-layer, a'int they $14.99?

OC: yeah

Clerk: she's charged for single layer, $6.99

OC: yeah, the lady said she wanted single layer, paid and then called back and said, "get my baby that bigger cake."

Clerk: so she owe a difference...6.99, no..8.99, no...6.99 no, wait. . .

ME: HOLD UP... LET ME SEE THE RECEIPT. (half a choc martini voice)

Clerk: The receipt a'int gon tell you nuthin' see---it say one layer, but see, this a two layer.

OC: yeah, the lady called back said, "get my baby that bigger cake."

Clerk, yeah, so the difference is ... ME: WAIT..

My Aside: Mom didn't tell me I was going to have to put something ON the cake, she would have mentioned that (no matter how faulty her memory might be getting--she wouldn't have -made- me pay for my own birthday cake. Nope. Never.

ME: Well, let me call her because she never mentioned that to me, in fact she told me specifically that she'd gotten a small cake because, "really, you don't need that much cake" (a dig about my weight. Don't you love moms?).

Clerk: You know what? Fine. Here . . ::paid sticker on the cake:: Happy Birthday.

Me: Thank You.

Of course, I proceeded to muss the cake a bit during the bike ride home, but it is still mostly intact and still very much chocolate with yellow flowers and a "Happy Birthday Deborah" scribed on top. Cute.

Back to the chocolate martini. I hadn't, prior to today, tried a chocolate martini. As many of you know I haven't even been a martini drinker all that long, having been introduced to them by my former girlfriend.

Well, in addition to the tirimasu cake, the newest recruit gifted me with the ingredients to, in her words, "make the perfect chocolate martini." Those ingredients being, vanilla vodka, G*diva chocolate liqueur, and B*iley's Irish Cream. She hadn't included a recipe, but I figured it couldn't be too difficult. Still, a quick Internet search and suggestions from fb peeps indicated that in addition to the ingredients I had on hand a smidgen of half and half is usually part of the chocolate martini mix, one even suggested a dash of cinnamon.

I emailed the newest recruit* and discovered that she is not a fan of the half and half. She offered her recipe and suggested I try it a bunch of different ways to find out which is best for me.

So, I am. Today (so far) I tried her recipe with kick-ass results. Yummy. I will have another with a dash of cinnamon. My run to the store to pick up the cake afforded the opportunity to pick up some half and half. I won't try that concoction until tomorrow, maybe.

But, over the next few days I will try chocolate martinis several different ways to find the right fit. Something tells me every which way will be just fine and dandy.

Day two coming to a close and so far, so all good.

*much thanks to newest recruit. She also rocks.

S P R I N G on Hold

Sixty to snow in a single day. Happy first day of Spring. Not.

Hi-ever, not to worry. Spring will arrive, eventually. I have it on good authority. I met a woman a couple of weeks ago who, determined to force the issue, decided to stow away her boots and wear only light jackets. She talked with me about being convinced this action would force nature to see things her way. I'm sure to her mind, today (& tomorrow) are merely blips.

Ok, maybe not good authority, never-the-less, spring will arrive, eventually.

For me the blip spells time indoors. I was going to get going on some spring clearing / cleaning type projects this long weekend anyway. The weather blip spells no guilt about being in rather than out as well as eradicating any possibility of being distracted by the sun and warm temps.

That doesn't mean I'm not distracted by other things, but those things are not germane to this post. The point is getting on with a number of projects. For instance, one bike to de-commission and another to prep for action.

Spring will arrive, eventually.

New (or rather Re-Newed) Attitude

I rode my bike to work Monday. I plan to ride again Wednesday and again to a meet-up event on Saturday. Each round trip to and from work is about 13 miles and the Saturday round trip will be closer to eleven.

Riding to work isn't new, but Monday was the first time this year for a few reasons. One, the weather for much of the bike season had been too un-predictable. Two, to be perfectly frank I was scared off the road. Riding a bike in city traffic is not for the faint-hearted. And while I've been riding Chicago neighborhoods since I was seven years old, and don't consider myself faint-hearted, last year I encountered some situations that proved a little stressful.

Third, Bella is ill. I've tinkered and tweaked, but what is ailing Bella will require more than I can manage right now. Luckily there was a long neglected bicycle in the storage area. I asked around and no one knew anything about the bike or owner. It appears she was left behind by a previous condo owner. Beyond some flattened tires and a broken rack she seemed in pretty good shape. I pumped some air in the tires, removed the broken rack and made a few other adjustments. I did some test runs around the neighborhood before venturing further out.

She did well on Monday, well enough that I'm confident she'll hold up for the subsequent rides. She's smaller than Bella and thus, just this side of being too small for me. As a result, rides longer than a six or seven mile stretch probably wouldn't be comfortable. The jaunts to work and back, and similar distance trips will be ok through the end of the season, I think.

I'm back out on the (city)road. Though still a little scared it felt good and I am determined. I need the work-out and I need to take back my streets. Careful, yes. I am. Very. Still, I made pretty good time (in) on Monday. Not shocked but a wee bit surprised. The ride home was longer only because there was more traffic and I wasn't as lucky with lights. I hope the pleasant weather we've been having decides to hang around a good while longer as it would be nice to get in three 10-13 mile rides a week through the end of October. In fact, it would be better than nice.

An aside to the woman with the short blue dress and fierce high heels, thank you, your legs are quite beautiful and double thanks for buying that ice cream cone. Yum.

On This Day

Left Knee: Whoa! What the heck is she doing?
Right Knee: Calm down, it’s April and the sun is shining (for a change).
Left Knee: Are you crazy? She just can’t get on a bike, start pedaling and expect me (us) to fall in line.
Right Knee: 1.Speak for yourself 2. Get a grip 3. We’re not going that far 4. Stop whining, I have to do more work when you whine.
Left Knee: Bite me. All I’m saying is she could give some warning. She can’t go from walking to riding and expect no reaction.
Right Knee: You’re a baby.
Left Knee: You’re a suck-up.

The other big happening on this day was the early morning earthquake. Seriously? Earthquake?

Whoa.

Actually, it wasn’t much, but certainly noticeable. No, it didn't wake me, I was somewhere between that awake / asleep mode where you think you're dreaming and then realize, nope, not a dream.