Hotter Than Hades

We are in the midst of a freakishly boiling hot heat wave. Today it got up to 104 degrees. It was hotter in Shelton today than in Tucson (yes, really). Now don't get me wrong, I love warm weather and sunshine and all that goodness just as much as the next gal, but the line of comfort and happiness was crossed about 20 degrees ago. If you are reading this from Arizona or California or Nevada, go ahead, laugh at me. But regardless, It. Is. Hot.

I actually looked up what Hades means. It's Greek for Hell. Yes, an appropriate description for the temperatures this week.

Which leads me to a story...

Years ago, before we were married, Dale and I lived in sin in this housing development which was part of a golf course. You had to pay yearly dues (which were considerably reasonable) and once these fees were paid, you had unlimited water use. Because of this, obviously, Dale and I were able to water our lawn as much a we wanted.

So we did.

We had automatic sprinklers that ran twice a day and we had the most beautiful lawn ever. Our grass would have made baseball stadium's groundskeepers green with envy (no pun intended...heh).

Then we moved to our current home. As that first spring turned to summer the reliable rainfall came to an end, that meant it was time start watering our grass with our usual wreckless abandon. Naively and ignorantly we ran our sprinklers enough to keep our grass thick and lush and emerald green. Did we look around and notice that ALL of our neighbors had, at this point, let their grass die? I can't remember. Would we have made the connection?

Then our bill came.

The grand total for all the water we used that June 2003 was $647. I am not lying. I think when we saw that bill, it was a slow motion "Oooooooooohhhhhhh
ssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiittttttttttttt..................." We were first time homeowners who failed to realize that because we now lived within city limits, we couldn't happily water away without being charged for every drop of it.

Lesson learned the hard way.

Which leads me to the rest of my post...

Of course our dead grass now fits perfectly into the neighborhood and has since July 2003. But it looks so bad. So bad. It's ugly and embarrassing. I swear if I see that camera robot that comes down your street to photograph your house for Google Maps, I will run out and put duct tape over the lens.

Here is a little teaser photo of our atrocious, hay-like, sorry, sad, dead grass. If Dale ever sees that I've posted this picture on my blog will curl up and die of embarassment.

Tour de France: My Favorite Part

Today brings a close to The Tour de France 2009 and with that I'd like to share my favorite part of le Tour.

It was the end of stage 13. Heinrich Haussler won by a landslide in the pouring rain and as he crossed the finish line, he was overcome with emotion. It very touching. I always find it so refreshing and respectable when someone is amazingly freaking awesome at something, yet they remain humble. This guy didn't feel the need to do 10 fist pumps into the air or some other gesture to let everyone know how great he was. He just, for a second, choked up.

Le Tour

I have hesitated to post this in fear of sounding like a total jock, but eh, what the heck.

I am totally into the Tour de France this year. We tivo it. I find my mind going there while I am at work. I wonder how today's time trials are going? I think to myself. I love the scenery, the insanely crazy fans, the crashes (Jens Voight...are you going to be ok?), the culture, the double kiss thing by the pretty girls at the podium (I want that job. Where do I sign up for that?), Bob Roll's whit, watching the domestiques do their jobs, the strategies, it's all good. Someday Dale and I will go to France to join the crazy fans in real life.

At first I was rooting for Mark Cavendish. I liked him, simply, because I thought he was cute. That's a good reason, right? But I was quickly turned off by his arrogance and immaturity. He even threw his bike once while having a little fit. Therefore, Dale and I gave him the nickname Pissy Pants. We'll be all "Oh, Pissy Pants can't even keep up with the pelaton on the mountain climbs, so sad..."


Then for a while Tyler Farrar was my man. He is from Wenatchee, and how can you not root for a guy from your home state?


Ultimately, though, I am a fan of Lance. He's just awesome. Just love the guy. Amazing.

My Day Today

Woke up at 4:30 to Rowan at my side of the bed asking for cereal. Said no. He begged. I didn't feel like arguing...got up, poured him some Apple Jacks, turned on cartoons for him, went back to bed. Got up at 7:00 (my day off), got the kids dressed, took them to school (daycare). Drove down the hill and bought myself a latte. Came back home and watched the last half hour of the Tour de France while I sipped my coffee (Go Lance!). Ate some wheat toast with peanut butter. Checked my email, then got ready to some recently downloaded music. Headed over to Lacey where I had a morning appointment.

After my appointment, I went to Marshall's. Looked at yoga clothes. Thinking about giving it a try. Hot yoga...sounds cool. Hit Starbucks and bought a sandwich. Headed to downtown Olympia and met Dale for lunch. Had lunch with my hubby and visited with his boss and our good friend Mike. He is the funniest person I know, hands down. When I first got there, I was like "Where's Mike???" Then I joked with Dale that I had really stopped by just to see Mike. Left an hour later.

Went to Joann's Crafts where I bought stuff for some fabulous cupcakes (they are fabulous in my mind, anyway) I am planning for a special event this weekend. Went to Ann Taylor. Bought a skirt. Went to Borders...didn't buy anything but I love just wandering through book stores. Went to Macy's, bought two new shirts. Went to Target, bought more things for this weekend. Thought more about the design for my cupcakes.

Drove home in upper 80s heat. Got home, checked email. Nothing special. Wrote down my debits so my on-to-of-everything husband has up-to-date records. Picked up my kids from school. When we got home Dale was home. He has this little joke...On Wednesdays I am usually in charge of dinner, and he came home to nothing...so he was like "Something smells goooooood..." It's his way of asking Where's my dinner, b*tch? I just laughed and suggested we go out. So we did. Kobe Teriyaki, a family favorite. I always, and I mean always get sushi there because who in their right mind passes up an opportunity to eat sushi?? But tonight I forced myself to try something different, so I opted for Szechuwan beef (just winging it on the spelling there, spellcheck couldn't even figure it out). The kids were suprisingly well behaved. Yay for Bella and Rowan.

Got home and got into our swimsuits and into the pool. The pool heater got fixed and is good as new! Swam for an hour. That is my workout for the day. Bella is a big chicken and Rowan is a daredevil...He's not even three and jumps off the diving board and into the 9' deep end. Only if we could coax Bella away from the shallow end and the safety of her Spongebob life ring.

Got the kids ready for bed, teeth brushed and fluoride given. Read a story (Miss Nelson is Missing), had cuddle time, hugs and kisses goodnight. Started some prep work for my cupcakes...dyed some frosting, made some swirly designs out of melted chocolate. While I was doing that I heard a thump and a little cry...Rowan had fallen out of bed. Poor baby, we just got hom out of the crib and into a big boy bed. Went in and cuddled my disoriented and wimpering baby. Put him back to bed. Don't think he ever actually woke up.

Cleaned up my gigantic mess, put my jammies on...and here I am. It's 11:18, eek. Late for me. Off to floss, brush (yes, I do it in that order, but it really doesn't matter. Trust me, your hygienist is just happy you do it).

So there you go. A day in my crazy life.

Practicing With My Macro Lens

Those parenting books don't adequately warn you that once you have children, your sleeping-in days are over. It's possible that had I been properly prepared, I may have reconsidered.

Rowan crawled in bed with us this morning somewhere around 5:30, and by 6:00 Bella had joined the party also. And there were the four of us, packed in a queen sized bed like sardines. I found myself fighting for space between the edge and two sprawled out toddlers who had fallen back to sleep the second their heads hit my pillow.

I laid there for a few minutes, now wide awake, then decided to go outside and practice some macro photography.

I have this really cool little macro (why isn't it called micro? I still don't know) lens that I hardly ever use, yet is one of my best investments. You can take some really cool photos with it.

My 32 year old running and cycling ravaged knees didn't tolerate me squatting for too long, so I only fired off a few shots, but these turned out kinda cool, I thought.

Facebook Schmacebook part II

Ok, so, like, just a few minutes ago I sat down at the computer and I noticed a new icon on our desktop that pretty much made me stop dead in my tracks:



Do you see it?

Dale was taking a bath next to me (yes, our computer is next to our bathtub...it's really quite strange) and I whipped my head around and was like "Honey...You joined FACEBOOK????"

My husband...the one that thinks I am addicted to the internet. The one that has a gazillion better things to do than sit at the computer. The one that reads my blog only every 4-6 weeks, if even. The one that thinks iPhones are completely unnecessary. My husband has joined Facebook.

When I asked why he gave a nonchalant "Thought it'd be a fun thing to do..."
Then said "I wonder why Lance Armstrong wasn't waiting for me to be his friend?"

I looked at his site. He already has friends and pictures and comments and everything. I must admit, I am kinda proud of my boy (but feel a little left out).

My friends (Amy...Kaylee...Courtney...) will be happy to hear that this takes me one step (albeit a baby step) closer to overcoming my disease of Facebook Resistance.

Full Story: STP 2009

If you have some time, you may want to re-read my post from the 2008 STP to refresh your memory before reading this post.

The only word I can come up with to summarize this year's STP experience for me is...bittersweet.

I never actually planned to ride it over two days. I wanted to be a one day rider all along. When Dale and I discussed a few weeks ago that I wasn't ready to do it all in one day, I secretly decided that I was going to attempt it anyway. I wanted to prove to him (and more so, to myself) that I could do it.

I did have a backup plan, though. My plan was that if there was no hope that I could go all the way by the half way point (Centrailia), then I'd just call my friend Melissa, she'd pick me up, I'd sleepover at her house, then finish up on the second day.

So, with that being said, here is my story...

Dale and I spent the night before up in Seattle this year instead leaving from home the morning-of. We have family-of-friends who live about 10 blocks from UW (starting line) on Lake Washington. They so kindly let us stay in their beautiful home. Thank you, Dan and Cindy! I took a quick shot of the view of the lake from the guest room.


We got up at 3:00am and I ate two bananas and half a bagel. We got ready and left the house about 4:00. We reached Husky stadium in about 15 minutes and made our way to the starting line and hung out until it was time to go.



At 4:45 we were allowed to start and Dale and I rode side by side for about the first 20 feet, then he pretty much took off like a bullet. He had a goal to reach of his own.

Those first several hours, for me, were pretty uneventful. I felt great, had lots of energy and was averaging a great pace. I was really pumped because I knew if I could keep it up, I could finish.

Because I wanted to reach the half point by noon, I couldn't stop at all of the food/water stops. When I did stop, I only allowed myself 5 minutes...that's to go to the bathroom, get more water, and shovel as much food into my mouth as fast as I could in that window of time. I know this makes me sounds completely obsessive, anal-retentive and insanely hard-core, but I had a goal and I knew that every minute would count. I had even brought my own food in my little pack because I knew waiting in line for food would slow me down.

At the last stop before Centrailia I called Melissa to let her know I didn't need her to pick me up because I was going to keep going. I told her I felt great, and she commented that I didn't even sound tired. "I'm not!" I said, "just my butt is a little sore." After hanging up with her I went and got some Gatorade, hit the bathroom, and went back to my bike to wolf down a bagel. It was dry, so I'd take the biggest bite I could and then squirt water into my mouth so I could chew it faster. I looked up to see these three guys giving me a funny look for the way I was eating. Whatever. When I went to leave I reached for my sunglasses...and they were gone.

*TANGENT ALERT* I loved my sunglasses. I bought them of May of 2006 for a work trip to Las Vegas. Ralph Lauren. Cute. Tight enough to hold my hair back. I loved them so much I managed to never loose them for over 3 years.

At the stop I had put them in my back jersey pocket and after that, it's all a mystery. When I realized they were gone, I frantically searched and researched my back pockets (riding jerseys have these big back pockets that can hold a lot of stuff. They're designed so that you can reach into them while you are riding). I searched through my pack. I traced my steps back to the water station and to the bathroom and turned up nothing. I was heartbroken...I loved those sunglasses, AND it was in the mid 80s and I didn't want to ride 8 more hours squinting into the sun. But...by this point 20 minutes had gone by (gasp!) and I had to accept the fact that I'd never see those sunglasses again.

So I got back on my bicycle and headed off. The next town was Centrailia. They routed us right through the college campus where I stopped long enough to take these pictures. This is the hub of the half-way festivities and the overnight stop for the two day riders.


Then I turned the camera around and took this one of myself.


My goal, obviously, was to make it to Portland at the end of the day. The finish line closed at 9:00, so as I rode on I was constantly watching my speed and time and doing the math over and over in my mind. It was still possible for me to make it in time.

After passing the 100 mile mark I just couldn't hold the pace that I had the first 8.5 hours. My body was doing ok still, but I just couldn't keep up the speed that I needed to maintain. To keep myself going I just kept telling myself Look at you! You're doing it! This isn't supposed to be easy. You've done harder things than this in your life. Just keep going! But sadly, the next several miles just got harder and harder and the point came that unless I attached rockets to the back my bike, I would not make it to Portland in time. But I kept going anyway. I rode and rode and spent many stretches of the route alone, no other cyclists ahead or behind. Just me and the cows out in the pasture. I didn't want to quit.

After a long, butt-kicking hill, there was a pit stop where I took a break. I had been at it for 10 hours. I took my helmet off and sat there and thought about what was ahead of me. At this point, even if I made it to Portland, it would be dark, and what would I do? Ride to a non-existent finish line? The next stretch would consist of big, long rolling hills that I remembered from last year. After that would be the scary, narrow, Lewis & Clark bridge that they don't escort the one-day riders (only the two day-ers) over- you're just on your own with the cars, then after that would be hwy 30...part I dreaded...which is 48 miles of gradually inclined, unshaded, grueling, narrow shouldered, heavily traffic-ed, bicycling hell.

I was hot and sweaty and emotionally, mentally, and physically spent. I considered my options, then.......

............put my face in my hands and cried. I had ridden 125 miles. It's like, take the hardest you've ever worked out, do it for 10 hours strait, then face the fact that you are not going to accomplish what you set out to do. I felt lonely and defeated. I called Melissa, and when she answered I blubbered into the phone "It's too hard! I can't do it anymore!" Without hesitation, she said she was on her way. But before she hung up, like a true friend would, she asked, "Do you want me to bring you a coffee? An iced latte?"

So she came and sat with me and kept me company. We sat there for a long time and talked. We took a few pictures:




This is Melissa and her son, Nixon:


We talked about me continuing on. We talked about me finishing the next day. In the end, I decided to not do either, and Melissa drove me home. I wanted to be a one-day rider, and it just wasn't going to happen for me. I accepted that.



...This story does have a happy ending though. Do I wish the outcome could have been different? Of course. But honestly, I really am proud of myself. There is no way I could have worked any harder. I gave it everything I had. At least I tried :)

Seattle-to-Portland 2009

Yep, I am home from the STP already. Here's a few quick shots...full story to follow.

Dale and I at the starting line. It was 4:30am when this photo was taken.


Here I am resting at the 125 mile marker. Can you tell I'm beat?

Anatomically Correct

Often when people buy road bikes they will upgrade some of the parts. When Dale and I bought ours, we both got new pedals and shoes that go with the pedals, and we both got new seats. Dale's is specially made to fit a man, and mine is designed for a woman. I often laugh about these seats...and here's why:

This is a girl's seat


And this is a guy's seat


Hmm...Coincidence??

Another One for #512

Kaylee's:
Good one. I'm pretty sure 5/12 was my grandpa's birthday, so that's gotta be good!

5-1+2=6 and 6 (3times) is the number you had last year. Weird.
ha ha.
I'll tell you what's weird. US! See, it's all connected.
I really need to go to bed. It's 12:30 here. Hmmmm 3+2=5 Put 5 infront of the 12 and you have your STP number. Now we're back to the beginning!
Good night! :)

Kaylee- I thought of one that's even better:

Square root of 5 is 25...sq rt of 1 is 1...sq rt of 2 is 4.

So...25x1+4=29

2+9=11

1x1=1......SEE!! Number 1! That could only mean one thing...I am going to freakin come in first!

Man we are a bunch of dorks!

Significance of #512

Ok, so...

Kaylee just left me this comment on my last post:

Excellent. It seems so anti-climactic. No drama. No hidden meaning.
Let's think of something.
What does 512 mean??? I always try and make connections with numbers. A little bit of my math-major sister rubbing off, I guess. :)

.....I can't think of anything.
Rach, you gotta help me out.

This is so weird, because I ALWAYS do that with numbers...try to figure out a little equation or connection or find some significance somewhere.

So, Kaylee, I came up with one. The difference between 5 and 12 is 7. Seven is a lucky number. See? I will have good luck on the STP.

Not Representin' Satan

Kaylee brought it to my attention that I haven't shared my bib number yet. Nope...not #666 this year, but if I find that rider I will have my picture taken with them! This year, out of 10,000, I am number...








So there you go, Kaylee. I am #512.

STP...Here Already?!

It's that time of the year again...already! This weekend Dale and I will again ride the Seattle-to-Portland Bicycle Classic. Dale will finish on Saturday, while I plan on finishing on Sunday ;)

Stay tuned for the full story and pictures on Monday as I will make blogging my priority once I am home!

Wish me luck! (No really, I do want you to wish me luck. I may need all the help I can get!)

Gran Torino

Dale and I watched Gran Torino last night. I'd heard it was good, but I wasn't all gung-ho to see it. Most often when we watch movies at home I either 1)fall asleep 2)think about all the things I could be getting done, 3)get bored and daydream, or all three in order of 2, 3, and 1. So when Dale told me he'd brought this movie home I figured I'd stay up for the first few scenes, then be out for the night in no time.

It was a really, really good movie. I don't say that much, but I just really liked it. I even stayed up until midnight. On a worknight, nonetheless! You should see it...just not with your kids.