in the hood of the traveling bullsh*t

That is not my coined term. Nope. Herb came up with that today on the ride, and what led to it was Lisa and my justifying Lisa's U-Turn in traffic that Herb deemed illegal. Well, it was, but there were no cars at the moment (so I followed her and in turn, so did Herb). Herb commented, "If I'd done that...my ass would have been handed to me." (He meant by me.) I agreed (and it would have been) and said back, "you'd have no ass left actually if you pulled something like that." I then went on to remind him that life is not fair, not fair at all.

The criminal U-Turn was at the end of the ride, so let me start at the beginning. Today was Tour de Carlos. Carlos is Jason's brother and Lisa's brother-in-law (duh) who was here visiting from Florida. We were on a ride mapped by Jason on which he had planned to wear Carlos out on the hills. Florida has no hills, and this 'wear Carlos out' thing was fun sibling rivalry and brother-besting.

In reality, the two of them obviously love one another, and Jason didn't really want to hurt his bro. He needn't have worried as Carlos held his own quite nicely as the two of them hammered on every flat, descent and climb, trying to out-best each other. The Colonel held his own too and pretty much stayed on the brothers' wheels all day. I felt strong and motivated and attempted to stay on their wheels as best I could. Alas, I was dropped like a badly microwaved potato on the climbs (always on the frickin' climbs). Although, at one point Carlos called me an 'animal' as I crested a climb not long after the men had. My climbing has improved, that's for sure, but I'm not back up with the big boys yet.

Lisa held strong today too even though she admitted she wasn't having a great ride day. Herb was flat-out suffering. I've been there and understood his pain all too well. When you don't have the legs to climb, you don't want to climb. (Wasn't I just on here last week lamenting on this very topic?) I hung back with him a couple of times even though he told me 'go on ahead' while pointing-wagging his finger. All he needed to add was '...little Missy' and it could have been a scene out of How the West was Won. Men are so funny.

We only rode 47 miles today with a little over 2700 feet of climbing, so I feel great now. I love these kinds of rides. The weather was unbelievable with 77-85 degree temps, sunny-blue skies and cool breezes throughout the route. I wish for this kind of weather on most rides and am tickled when that wish is granted. I was riding at one point today so happy and free, feeling tremendous calm while being energized.



If you read this blog, you are either entertained by my insanity or by my ride reports. If for the ride reports and you don't own a bike, or you do but don't ride much, or you are thinking of buying a bike, etc. - I'd urge you to do it and ride, ride, ride!!! Even with all my picture taking and gushing, I can't show you what only you can reveal to yourself. A bike is not merely a toy for fitness. It's a way of life, a freedom to have when in every other area of your life you are chained to some responsibility or expectation. It allows you to just move forward in a single moment-to-moment experience often shared with others but always so uniquely personal. Buy that bike and ride, whether for an hour or 12, and you'll see...you'll see. I think I'd be lost without my bike at present, especially with my world so in a state of flux and unpredictable. Cycling brings me sanity, clarity and focus, and today was a perfect blend of all three.

Our route was along the same roads I've ridden so many times but never tire of - Griffith Park to the Observatory and through Los Feliz (yup, same route as on my night ride this past Wednesday) then over to Verdugo and up to hospital hill, Descanso and to the Rose Bowl and back to Montrose for lunch. Herb split a tuna melt and fries with me and then refused to take my money to pay half. Hmpf! He means well, but he hit a nerve today by mentioning something to the group (not going to discuss on here). I'm a little sensitive of late...you know, that whole 'don't got no job' thing! I let it drop and not color the ride. Our path home was downhill all the way, sweet and delicious on well-paved roads.

Perfect day, for sure...and personally, I dig being in the hood of the traveling bullsh*t, especially considering it means I'm likely on my bike.

More pics are here: (click)

silly dragon tricks

Stephie (Boo) has returned to her normal dragony self today. She's fully shed and all pretty with ample dragon-diva attitude. First, she demanded worms. I fed her three of which she chomped so hard, I could swear I heard them scream (do worms scream?). On the fourth worm, which I dropped at her front paws (claws? talons?), she turned her bearded nose up at it as if to say 'how dare you feed me that crap.' Fine. I put her back in her terrarium, dusted her crickets (with calcium/Vitamin D powder that is good for a little lizard's bones) and dropped some down into her lair. She ate about five and has since become close pals with the rest...sigh. It fascinates me how she can be BFF with her food when she knows she's going to eat it later. She isn't cruel but talk about being two-faced. And the crickets always look so incredibly surprised (if not a little hurt) when she suddenly turns on them. I guess I'd be perplexed too if my BFF suddenly turned around and ate me.

I didn't sleep well last night as I was hit around 2:00am with the worst attack of Zule yet. Gawddimit. I thought that had mysteriously left me. Nope. No such luck. I'm going to make an appt. with my gyno next week to see if there is anything I can do about it. With the whole 'being laid off' thing, my thoughts haven't been on my health so much as my livelihood. I think the combo of Zule and worry prohibited me from falling back asleep, so I tossed and turned. I now feel like ass. Good thing I designated today as my 'doing nothing' day. Which isn't entirely true as I am going to do some chores and clean up, but no job searching, workshops, etc. I need a break. I've hit it hard this week and now that I have a recruiter and revamped resume (it was fine before, but now it really looks good), I'm confident the wheels will roll. The recruiter called with an interview possibility yesterday but it was in Slymar and just a tad out of the area I'd want to work in (and I wasn't crazy about the description). But she's already on it and that makes me very hopeful!

Today, though, is a day to just to get some things done, grocery shop, put in a load of laundry and hit the gym. That's it. Mental refresher break if you will...and my little dragon is perfect for that. I've been laughing so hard this morning. You see, after her diva act with the worms and crickets, she then demanded (by bobbing her head at me repeatedly) to be let out. I've spoiled her and after she poops (I will never make the mistake of letting her out before she poops again), I let her run around the apartment. It's good for her as it gives her exercise. Well, this morning, I had my french doors open on one side and she beelined for the screen door. She's not stupid even if her brain is the size of a pea. She ran and jumped, landing on the screen like some ninja warrior in action. She can climb, that little reptile and she checked out every inch of screen to see if there was anywhere she could squeeze through. I even videotaped her for your amusement (if you find lizards amusing):

I also photographed her.

I do find lizards amusing and this one in particular. Funny thing is, if you'd asked me a year ago if I'd own a lizard, I'd have said no. Not that I thought there is anything wrong with them, but I've always been more a fuzzy-furry-faced lover. But now that I own a bearded-face, I've changed my mind. I think I will always have a little dragon around. As I've said before, she's zen...and on days like today, she's a hoot. She's also taken to licking my finger whenever I pick her up. It's kind of her way of wagging her tail, I think. That or she's trying to determine if I'm edible. So far, I'm not as appealing as a cricket, so I think our friendship is genuine. She won't eat me and I (FatHead) won't eat her...which is what true friendship is all about.

in the middle ring

What the hell possessed me last night to climb the Griffith Park canyons in my middle ring, I couldn't tell ya...but I did. Heh heh. Hey, that's an accomplishment for me. I had the leg strength and the company to tolerate my groaning for emphasis. It was Herb and me, as the rest of the crowd wanted to ride to the Rose Bowl from Burbank. I'm not crazy about the RB ride at night. Mountain Ave. is too narrow and too filled with lazy-eyed, tense motorists. I'll risk being confused with a breaded-pork chop by a coyote at Griffith Park over becoming road kill in rush hour traffic in Glendale. Since it was just the two of us, I knew I could sucker, guilt and harass Herb into indulging my desire to mash in lieu of spin up the hills. Spinning is the way to go (especially for the knees) but mashing is a necessary punishment one must inflict on one's quads from time to time. My quads are now telling me to go to hell. I guess the gym is out today...I think I'll go walking again as I dug that on Monday.

As for the ride itself? Fantabulous and oddly quiet. Yes, quiet...and yes, I was along. Oh, shut up (I know what you're thinking). There were times I was so very like myself (loud, crude, loquacious) and times when I was completely lost in thought and not uttering a peep. It was so dark in the canyons, even up Trash Truck Hill that my HID's white glow was the only beacon to light my way. No moon(light) and no street lights.


Once we hopped the gate and began climbing Mt. Hollywood, the breeze picked up. It was again eerie in those hills, but no coyotes in view last night (out of view and not far out of range, I'm sure). We really just had each other and our thoughts for company, and our thoughts won out. Well, that and Herb's breathing. He mentioned to me at the top that he didn't understand why he breathes so heavy the way he does. I told him he needs to practice on releasing his breath more controlled and without any 'voice' in his breath. I'm sure he wanted to tell me to practice on speaking without any 'voice' in my voice, but he held his tongue.

On the way down the back of the canyon it got brrrrr cold, but the quicksand patches of debris we anticipated had been swept away, thank goodness. At he bottom, we hopped the second gate and climbed directly up to the observatory. Throughout this climb, I remained in my middle ring too, but I knew that if we took the freakishly steep route home, I'd have to drop down into Grannygearville. My legs were quivering at that point. At the top, by the observatory, it was oddly quiet and uncrowded. Herb shared his trail mix with me like always. I joke that it's my dinner, but really, it's my treat. I know he's gonna share, especially if I look pathetic enough, so secretly I look forward to it. I'm like a dog that way. I perform the trick of climbing up that canyon, now give me some almonds, M&M's and peanuts, please!

On our descent down the back side of the observatory, Herb refused to dictate our route home. I gave him an out, "we can skip the freakishly steep hills and take the bike path back or we can climb the freakishly steep hills and take the park [route] back."

"I don't know," he hollered over his shoulder. "You decide."

"No, you decide!" I don't like dictating.

He sighed. "NO...you decide."

"Fine," I snickered and stuck my tongue out at him (behind his back). "Freakishly steep hills it is! But no bike path...the bike path scares me when it's this dark out."

We then climbed the freakishly steep hills. Why do I keep saying 'freakishly steep?' Cause there are a couple of hills in that Los Feliz neighborhood that top out around 15% at least and with all the cracks in the pavement, cars coming up and around you, trash cans, cats and skunks (there was the cutest little skunk on the sidewalk last night but Herb didn't want to stop to pet it), it's like trying to traverse an obstacle course and keep your front wheel down! It's also like an amusement ride. I told Herb that when I ride through that neighborhood at night, I feel like I'm on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride at Disneyland. I realize that we are on bikes, not in a boat, and there are no pirates, but it still reminds me of that ride for some odd reason. I even sing to myself, "yo ho, yo ho, a pirates life for me..." as we first climb and then descend those winding cracked curves and finish with a blind curve on a sidewalk that dumps us out on Los Feliz Blvd. I'm always a little fearful that we're going to run over some urban hipster (or drug dealer) going around that narrow curve, but so far, no one has been there just as we turn the corner.

We were done by 8:30pm. 19.8 miles with 1,600 feet of climbing (ow!). I was flying high after and had a hard time falling asleep last night. I love to ride, love to ride, love to ride! I was able to put the job search out of mind last night and just enjoy. And then...

...I had to get up this morning and go meet with a recruiter. Sigh. I was there practically all day. I thought I wouldn't like her, but I was pleasantly surprised. She is a very bright, 26 year old with chipped polish on her nails. Her nail polish is purple too. She looked a little disheveled and I think my appearance intimidated her as she kept apologizing for her chipped nail polish. I told her not to sweat it and that I'm a cyclist (yeah...like I got perfect nails?). If this other job (that I'm waiting to hear from) falls through, then this gal will help me. She really liked me but wanted to fix my resume. I resisted at first but then changed my mind. She told me how strong of an interviewer I am and that compliment put a bounce in my step, for sure. But, egad (I love that word), it was a long day!!!! By the time I got home and checked my emails, pet my dragon (who is still shedding and very sensitive right now) it was 3:30pm! Where does the time fly?

Now, I think it's too late to ride so I'm just going to climb the hills in my neighborhood by foot. Too bad they don't make itty-bitty leashes for lizards.

one down...

I got gussied up today and, with my stomach in knots, drove to my first interview in almost six years. I have no idea why I was so nervous as I did just fine. Every person I met with genuinely seemed to like me and as I began talking, I realized that I'm a very good communicator. Also, nerves don't really get to me once I start my sales pitch. My only (self) criticism is that I talk too much. I remember thinking at one point, 'put a muzzle on it, M.E.' Loquacious is a word one could use to describe me.

Now it's up to the universe. I will likely get a second interview but whether I'll get the job, I don't know. But now I want to interview all over and I can't wait to join Toastmasters again. Yes, Toastmasters. Don't laugh, that organization has some major speakers and leaders in it. It's very effective and I plan to sharpen my communication and public speaking skills. Plus, I'll meet new people. One of the things I liked about the company I interviewed for is that in their local office (where I'd be working), there are about 3,000 employees (the office is very large, trust me). I like that as I'd be meeting new folks and I could commute to the office by bike! But I can't get my heart set as there are many variables involved and some things very much beyond my control...good interview or not!

Here's me with my professional makeup on. Note: I did not wear my hair down like in these pics, I had it in a bun to be more professional. Once I'm hired, I can wear it down.




I tried to get a shot in the mirror, but flash doesn't work in mirror shots, so this is the quality you get:



Other than that...I got nothing. Really. Today has been all about the interview. I was there for three hours, so that isn't all that unusual. I should have ridden my bike this morning, but I was too nervous. I'm riding tomorrow, hopefully in Griffith Park at night. Nothing like climbing up in that canyon with the city lights twinkling in the valley below to chill me out.

trading sidis for sneakers

The weather today reflected my mood(s) perfectly-sunny, cloudy, raining, sunny, raining, sunny, sunny, sunny...cloudy. Gotta love when the weather intuits your inner climate. Not that I think I'm so special as to effect the weather gods, mind you, but it did seem a tad coincidental that the weather was as fickle in temperament today as I was. Mostly it was sunny...my mood that is, and mainly because I refuse to become a stressed out heathen.

I am not defeated and really, there is a profound opportunity here for me to grow...er, or at least, change. The more I think about how miserable I was at my former company the more grateful I am that I'm not still sitting in that crappy chair (one I never requested be switched out although I should have) staring at the same cheesy, framed, paint-by-numbers office art on the wall in front of my desk, the same art that still had orange streamer flecks on its glass frame from a couple of Halloweens ago (the same orange flecks that I never bothered to pick off of the glass).

Do I miss having a job? Of course. Just not the one I had. I mean, I sat there for six months miserable, bored, stressed out, worrying I'd lose my job and wishing for a better life. I cried twice upon pulling into the parking garage on two separate mornings after hitting those god awful speed bumps that the building owners installed after an office occupant was nearly run over by a speeding 24 Hour Fitness gym goer. I just hated those bumps and both times that my eyes welled up with tears after being jolted by one as my Nissan drove over it at 5 mph, all I could think was "I hate this f*cking place, hate it." Still do...only now I hate it because they laid me off. I know, that makes no sense - either I wanted to be there or I didn't. I didn't, but I didn't appreciate being kicked out either. Go figure.

Unless I win the Mega Millions jackpot tonight ($145,000,000 is up for grabs), I have to get a job. I don't want just any job, though, but the right one. The interview tomorrow is promising and I'm ready. My suit is at the cleaners for pickup at 10am (I'm having the buttons replaced, don't ask), the perfect scarf with the perfect heels with the perfect subdued jewelry are all laid out for me to put on. My hair will be worn in a neat bun. I read that all of the above make for a perfect interview impression and right now is not the time to show individual style. I got it. And I'm ready.

I'm also wishing I never had to work again. See what I mean about the ever changing moods?

Around 3:30pm I got cabin fever and had to get outdoors. I decided to trade my sidis for sneakers and just walk.


Walking is wonderful and often I forget what a good workout it is. My legs were tired from this past weekend's riding (I had an off riding week for sure) and the walk challenged them. I huffed up some hills and enjoyed the afternoon sun.

I also ran into several dogs (and owners) out getting their afternoon walks in. Being me, and brandishing a camera, I asked a couple of owners if I could photograph their exceptionally cute pooches for my blog. Both owners looked at me oddly. I guess dogs aren't like children in every respect and putting their photos on the interwebs is not socially unacceptable. Here are the doggies I wanted to steal:

After my dog encounters, I headed west deep in thought when my phone rang. It was a recruiter I was hoping to hear from. We chatted for a good 30 minutes. By the end of the call, I wish I'd never heard from her, although I have an appointment to meet her on Thursday. Main problem with any recruiter is that they are out to make a commission (I'm assuming) and they don't have time for folks like me - someone hoping to find a job in which she can 'grow.' No, this recruiter encouraged me not to grow, "not in this economy." She wanted me to be focused on what my resume speaks to the most. Sigh.

I've been an Executive Assistant for so long. I have the skills to support just about anyone...but I'm not so sure I want to do that anymore. I'd be happy to be an Administrative Assistant in the right department at the right company where my chances of being promoted (in a couple of years) into a great position is a possibility. The recruiter wanted me to wipe that thought out and get to supporting an executive. I'm still going to meet with her as I cannot let any opportunity pass me by, but I lost my excitement after talking to her...hence the cloudy weather conditions (my mood) by end of day.

On a happier note, I contacted my former employer for whom I was a Program Coordinator for years. She's such a wonderful woman (and therapist - very well known). She was more than amenable to provide a glowing reference for me, but more importantly, she asked for my resume to pass on to a colleague of hers. There may be an opening soon at a place I'd kill to work at and a position I'd love to have. I thanked her profusely and, back in my sunny mood, called Dad with a smile in my voice.

You just never know where the next conversation, meeting, interview, etc. is going to take you. I'm back to being very hopeful tonight if not a little nervous. Interviewing is nerve racking for sure, but I'm up to the task. Maybe it will be a perfect fit and where I'm supposed to go next...but that has yet to be forecasted.

no pain...no chance to whine

If ever I wanted to just stay in bed, today was it. For one thing, and something I've not admitted on here or really to myself, I'm at a crossroads at present. I always am when looking for a new job. I don't think I'm alone in saying that job hunting is exhaustiing, scary and not something I'd like to be doing at this time in my life. But since being unemployed necessitates the need to find a job, that's what I've been eating, breathing and sleeping of late. Bottom line, I am somewhat stressed.

As I told Lisa today, this stress is affecting my mood. I'm sensitive to what normally would roll off my back and truthfully, some days I should just close the blinds and chill out alone. Yesterday, after all the excitement and riding, I was pure knackered when I got home and, without going into too much detail, I had a very upset stomach. I thought I might have picked up a touch of a bug or slight food poisoning, but by this morning, I was fine if not a little dehydrated and groggy from 'tossing and turning' throughout the night. I still felt like a dog's ass (I know it's a crude expression but for some reason it makes me laugh). With some "HTFU" email messages from Herb, I somehow dragged my butt out of bed, dressed and drove over to Burbank to go riding in Griffith Park.

When I arrived (tardy), The Lobsters were there ready to roll. I felt bad. They'd suggested a different ride, the coffee run where we head out on 40 flat miles to Woodland Hills. I love that ride, but I knew I couldn't pull that many miles today. Looking back on it now, I should have insisted on that ride if I was going to ride since all we did today was climb! Ugh. Saying I had lead legs is an understatement. I was outright wiped, cooked, pooped, fill in the blank: _____!

I wanted to kill the men, who were riding at a strong pace always in the lead, especially Herb. He was suppose to take us up the easy side to Mt. Hollywood and to the Observatory, but he decided we'd climb the freakishly steep hills through the Los Feliz neighborhood. With every pedal stroke, I could feel my stomach gurgling and I cursed his back wheel. Luckily, I had Lisa there feeling identical (without the stomach upset). She was ready to kill the men too, so I had a sister in crime! Somehow, we pulled it out of some orifice and made it up the climbs to the Observatory. Here is where I'd say to any cyclist out there who thinks he/she can't pull it out and turn it on when need be - wrong! You can, and like me, if you haven't coughed up a lung, you will likely feel better after having ridden. It was at the top of that canyon looking out at the overcast skyline and down into the city that I thought, 'oh, thank goodness I rode today.' I thought this while my mouth was watering with bile that I was then forced to swallow or purge - yeah, I'm a freak.

As we rode out from the Observatory and into Mt. Hollywood Canyon the back way and down that long, isolated stretch of road, my mind switched into job searching mode and my mood switched to less than cheery. Lucky for me, everyone was amenable to stopping at Priscilla's Coffee Shop for some Jo' and then it was an easy sprint back to Herb's place and my car. I hugged Herb and thanked him for guilting my ego out of bed!

I then drove home where I've been working on my Marketing Plan (OMG it's so frickin' long and complicated!). Dad got the cold shoulder when he called as I was paying little attention to anything he was saying. He hates when I do that although he'll never scold me for it. Sorry, Dad, I was just in third gear at the time you called. I told him I'd be taking a workshop tomorrow, but I'm thinking of skipping it and taking a little more time on the Marketing Plan (which has to be completed and printed out for the workshop). Tomorrow, I've decided I'm heading to Kinko's (closer than The Warner Center in Woodland Hills), printing out my job application for the interview I have on Tuesday, filling all the paper work out, contacting a recruiter who wants to meet me (and setting up the meeting), getting my outfit and myself ready for my interview on Tuesday (self manicure for sure!) and just catching my breath. I haven't interviewed in almost six years. I need to get focused for my first one this go around.

As for the rest of this day - I will doubtfully watch the Oscars tonight. I was invited to a friend's house for an Oscar viewing party, but she and her boyfriend live in Pasadena. I'm just not in the mood to drive over there although I know it will be fun. I'm wanting to nest at present. Besides, Stephie will watch it with me should I decide to check out who won best actress or best actor. She's molting at present and her skin is peeling off. It's a good thing I love that little animal or I'd be so grossed out. Well, poor little thing can't help it. She is a reptile after all and that's what they do. She's kind of funny looking actually cause half of her is dull grayish and the rest of her is a new pretty skin color. I'd post a pic of her but I'm too lazy, plus she's in a bad mood too. She's glaring at me right now with that 'FatHead, don't even think about coming over here and bugging me' look. Just like me, she's shedding the old to make way for the new.

Oh, look at that...a life lesson personified by my 6 ounce Bearded Dragon. Sweet.

men in spandex, sprinting...yeehaw!!!

The Tour of California blew through LA today, specifically Angeles Crest and down into Pasadena and the Rose Bowl. I've never witnessed this race first hand, and when Herb asked if I'd be willing to ride to the Rose Bowl and wait around for a few hours to ensure we got a good spot along the sidelines of the VIP Tent (more on that in a minute), I willingly agreed. I didn't need a big hoo-haa of a ride today. In fact, I had lead legs all day and an attitude to match (I'll get to that too, in a minute).

Turns out, a few others wanted to join, which was great - they were The Lobsters and Andy, a cyclist whom we all hadn't seen or ridden with in a while and who is definitely a character!

We all set sail from Herb's curb a little after 9am (I was running late and even forgot my bike at home and had to drive back to retrieve it!). It was cool and overcast today, which made my wearing a jacket sans arm warmers a perfect choice. I also carried a camelback in case I could score free stuff (but I didn't get a thing). We decided to do our usual route down Riverside, up Sonora Drive to Kenneth Drive in Glendale, down and over Mountain Ave. (with lots of rollers) and up Verdugo to hospital hill. From there it was climb, climb, climb...something I did not want to do today! As we turned onto Inverness Ave. and up St. Katherine's, I was wishing for an invisible tow rope or pulley. My legs hurt, my butt hurt and even my head hurt. But I pushed through knowing we'd get a break soon.

We arrived at the Rose Bowl around 11:45am and proceeded to lap the bowl one time after which the guys took turns crossing the finish line for fun.



It was cute and we all laughed about what dorks we are. So what? We were surrounded by dorks, so in good company! We then headed into the bike expo and the men took pics with the umbrella girls (skinny little dolled up things who've clearly never ridden a bike!) At this point, Herb and I reported to the VIP Tent and nibbled on finger food. Herb, ever the pleaser (and sweetheart) really wanted to get the others in the tent, a tent I had no intention of leaving! He met up with the friend and business acquaintance who got him the passes and mentioned the 'left out' buddies outside the tent. The friend found a couple more passes and with some maneuvering, we were all safely inside sipping lattes and nibbling on chicken skewers. We then found a perfect spot just in front of the Finish Line. Yippee!!! I'd get to see all the hot, hard-bunned racer types (including Lance Armstrong!) up close and personal.

We chatted with a few folks we knew, including my Colavita buddy, Gary, and goofed off for an hour or so before the TOC boys arrived at the bowl. Then it was all excitement for the next 1/2 hour as those amazing athletes flew like rockets around the bowl! I loved it and couldn't believe how much I had been missing not following the race. Some Italian guy won, I think. I don't remember as I was too busy drooling over those incredible male specimens in my favorite attire on men...spandex. Oh, they are lip-smacking delicious, them boys, and I couldn't help but wish that I could stuff one of them into my...um...camelback to take home with me. A girl can wish, can't she? Heh heh.

After it was all over, we retrieved our bikes (that we had valeted) and hit a hard pace back home. It was then that I felt so nauseated and just plain worn out. I think the combination of the excitement and little food did me in. Herb said he thought he saw me wearing a feedbag in the tent to which I snapped, "no, for your info, I ate very little!" He was forgiven since, after all, he'd coordinated the amazing day and genuinely wanted everyone to enjoy. That Herbie is good egg, I tell ya! I apologized to him after for being such a grump. I was a little off in mood and in ability today, but that doesn't color the amazing experience I had with great friends.

Now, I'm sipping Cranberry juice. I didn't have much appetite for dinner, so I just had tuna and 1/2 bowl soup. Seems my stomach is still caught up in the excitement of the day. Here are our homemade videos. Enjoy!

For actual race videos (sorry, but I need to go to bed, and the above took forever to upload!) and pics, please go here: (click)

who's that doggie in the window?

Me. Heh heh. Well, I look like a dog when I'm out all greasy smeared with zinc paste, in the most crappy pair of cycling shorts I own. I ought to throw the damn things in the trash, but it tickles me that they are near see-through (makes me feel naughty) and the chamois is so worn out and down that it's completely flat. And I smell like a dog. Do you ever notice that? Not on me, silly, on yourself! You know, when you're outdoors for awhile and then go indoors. Sniff your arm next time...you stink like a dog. Trust me.

Anyway, yesterday Spingineer so sweetly flattered me by complimenting my goofy photo taking. He said something to the effect of my having creative talent (blush), so what did I do? I decided he's right. After a phone interview today (I have a second interview on Tuesday, yay!!, with a promising company), I decided to go ride Nellie and took my camera with me (that's like saying, 'and took my liver with me' isn't it?) I was lazy and said, 'f*ck it' on the hill repeats that I'd planned to do today and instead thought riding on the sidewalk of a very busy Ventura Blvd. would be wise. Turns out, I'm wrong. I had to creepy crawl along to avoid being killed by or killing a pedestrian. I guess sidewalks really are just for those on foot.

However, since I was resigned to just cruise at a minimum speed, I figured I'd use my creative talents to take artistic photos of myself in the various windows and mirrors I could find. Below are the results, a montage I've entitled It's All Up in There Somewhere. Please do enjoy...

I know what you're thinking, "don't give up your day job."

Too late.

free wheeling

I'm completely exhausted right now. Mainly from being on the computer all day...well, almost all day. I've been not only job searching but filling out forms for the placement firm. Here is how it works, you (the unemployed) go on to their website and complete surveys, questionnaires and 'games' (yes, games) to help you hone your job searching, marketing, interviewing and negotiating skills. It isn't at all silly; quite conversely, it is very professional and thought provoking. It has also (thus far) been helpful, so I'm taking it all very seriously. But good Lord, there is a lot of material to wade through!

Around 2:00pm, I'd had enough. After throwing on two loads of laundry, I jumped on Nellie for a canyon ride, free wheel style which simply means that I hadn't a clue where I was going, I just rode. I only wanted to take an hour for some good cardio, but I got lost in my thoughts and time got lost with me. I was away for a solid two hours but didn't care. I love just looking like a disheveled mess in my mismatch tshirt, knickers, red bandanna and purple helmet!




I feel free and invisible when out on Nellie like this (which I almost was invisible in rush hour traffic coming back - that was not good!). My free wheeling took me up a canyon in my neighborhood that becomes a dirt road up until it hits Mulhullond. It's steep but nothing like Woodcliff Drive and that was what I landed on today.

I started snapping pics as this point (my usual) and got some great shadow shots.

I also found a quarter, flattened and useless but pretty to me, so I picked it up off the ground and shoved it in my bra to carry home. I must have looked like a broke bum desperate for some beer cash to the motorists who witnessed me doing this. Heh heh...little do they know that I don't need to pay for my beers. All it takes is a cheap bar, a cheap outfit, big hair and drunk men for me to score a cold one! (not that I ever do this, mind you...I don't drink beer all that often anyway).

Now, I'm back to forms, forms, forms...and watching CNN, Larry King Live. They were discussing the octuplet mom and how nuts she is (ya think?). I say take the 14 kids away from her. We, as taxpayers, are going to pay one way or another, but that woman is a media ho and clearly not in her right mind. It was interesting to hear that Joy (last name?? - from The View) give her thoughts on the whole thing. She was interviewing right-wing publicity skank whore, Ann Coulter, who had absolutely nothing of value to contribute. Someone should just wire her bony jaw shut, she's so useless. Can you tell I'm not a fan?

Okay, back to work. I have a job to find!

if the stars are aligned

One thing...one thing...my ex company did that I must praise them for is provide a month of services from a placement firm. The firm, Right Management, truly impressed me today when I reported for my orientation. From the "getting started' orientation layout to the sweet disposition of the front Office Manager, Michele, I was floored at the professionalism they exhibited. And the heart. Um, excuse me...folks lost their jobs, me included, and that sucks. We're hurting as we're human and not having a steady income is scary for us average folk. Thank goodness there are people in this world who recognize the 'humanity' involved and don't just look at us as if we are merely a 'bottom line' for some company. Right Management gets my endorsement for sure.

When I arrived today at the Woodland Hills office, all I could think was "I want to work here." Here would be The Warner Center. It's pretty there, nestled up against the Santa Monica Mountains and it just has a more relaxed vibe than crappy Glendale did. I'm going to research the companies there and try to get in the door as Woodland Hills would be a perfect place to work given my home location. I could even commute by bike!!! Yippee! But I'd best not get ahead of myself...

The woman who instructed our orientation was wonderful - professional, warm and an excellent speaker. I want her job...well, not her job, but one like it. I'm going to pitch myself to her before my time in this very valuable program runs out. I'd love to be her protege.

In case you're wondering what the hell I'm talking about, this company offers services to laid off/fired/left on their own employees that are invaluable. They have databases for job banks, research tools and, best of all, workshops to help you be the best potential candidate. Before you think it cliche or stupid, think again. I was floored at the amount of information they had to offer, and I'm going to fill up my next month with every workshop I can attend (when I'm not interviewing which I hope to be doing as well!). These workshops not only help you hone your interviewing and salary negotiating skills, but they help you network. I'm realizing how important a skill networking is and I'll take any help I can get! I look forward to the next four weeks.

Other than that, today has been unexciting. No exercise today, which is not good, but my session lasted longer than expected, AND an ex coworker from my ex company was there today, so we had coffee afterwards to gossip. Oh, the many things I learned about a company that no longer is the one I was hired by initially.

I will say this now without any nastiness to my ex company, but I do believe, after what I heard today, they did me a favor. Everything happens for a reason, right? Well, I believe that to be true anyway...and hopefully, if the stars are aligned, it will be proven to be true in my case.

things that do not belong to me

Today was the day that I was to return to my ex company to pick up some personal items that HR had called last week and told me I'd left behind (I couldn't think of any, but I had to take their word on that). I was also to turn in my release form (in return for my severance check - which is kind of like dangling a carrot in front of my nose in return for not suing the hell out of them). It was all planned that I'd show up at 11:00am, the items would be brought down to me in the lobby, I'd hand over the form (my money will be mailed to me this week) and off I'd go, never to return to a company at which I'd given 5 years and 9 months of my efforts to. 11:00am should have been the perfect time, since it is a little too early for lunch, meaning I'd run into only a stray employee or two. Easy enough, huh?




Yeah...not really. See, my ex company has never been really all that savvy in the HR area. No offense to any of the remaining employees. I liked most of them and really liked a couple (one of whom was given the grim task of greeting me today). But I don't believe they truly thought through the process of how these layoffs should take place in order to least traumatize the laid-off employees - they sure didn't when it came to this laid-off employee. It's a good thing I have the sense of humor I do and that I'm not the type who owns an Uzi (you know, the kind that fires up to 100 rounds in less than 30 seconds?).

What my sweet ex company did with respect to my final visit to the building was to arrange it so that I'd be in the lobby of the building right at the exact time as over 50 bonus-eligible employees (all of whom I know and many of whom I worked closely with) would be returning from an offsite meeting (to be told there'd be no bonuses this year, I'm guessing; they always take employees off site for those types of 'bad news' meetings). Had I known this, I'd have insisted on arriving around 2:00pm as I really wasn't in the mood today to deal with seeing my ex coworkers and having to smile the brave smile as they all looked at me like some pitiful, decaying plant.

I'm no longer in the 'employed by [insert ex company name here]' club and therefore, I'm sure I reek of 'unemployed.' Hey, I've smelled that stench on others and have given the 'I'm so sorry you lost your job, now go away so I won't feel guilty' look myself. It's to be expected and, honestly, at this point, I almost couldn't care less. In fact, if I'd had my wits about me today, I'd have pulled my inner actress out and started sobbing while standing in the lobby as all the employees, including the CEO of the company, walked through to the elevators. I could have thrown the most dramatic departure ever, giving them (those who last anyway) something to talk about for years to come. It would have just taken real tears and my throwing myself down and around the CEO's legs, wailing, "Why me???!!! WHY!!!!!!!????"

But I did not do that.

Instead, I did as my ex coworker from HR (I'll call her L) suggested. Suddenly looking pensive, she said, "Um...M.E. I don't know how to tell you this, but all of the bonus-eligible employees are heading this way [to the lobby]. They were at an offsite meeting. Do you want to hide over there behind the wall to the corner and likely they won't see you? It's up to you..." She then pointed at the corner expectantly.

What would you do? I was in my workout clothes (I hit the gym afterwards and worked off my desire to go out and buy an Uzi) with my hair in a ponytail...perhaps they wouldn't recognize me if my back was to them and I was facing the wall. I couldn't get out because the two doors that were there in this corner were locked, so I had nowhere to go. I just stood, still, with paperwork in my hands facing the wall like a child being punished for sneaking my hand into the cookie jar one time too many. Oh, good grief. As they, the bonus-eligible employees, all began piling into the lobby and standing around just behind me in groups trying to get on the elevators, I pretended to be talking on a cell phone.

Okay, here is where you may call me a loony-toon if you'd like. See, um, I didn't have a cell phone in my hand. Nor did I have my Bluetooth. So, essentially, I was having an imaginary conversation with an imaginary caller on an imaginary cell phone...only I didn't even bother putting my hand to my head to pretend I was holding a phone. I suspect that if anyone did look over and recognize me, they must have thought I was talking to the wall. To make matters worse, there was such a large crowd and the elevators were taking so long, this went on for a good 4-5 minutes (at least). Somewhere around minute number 2 into this God awful, awkward moment in my life, I suddenly got tickled, really tickled, and began to giggle. My shoulders shook with intensity as I tried to silently laugh and this just brought more attention to me, I'm sure.

Then it hit me. Why the hell was I hiding? I didn't do anything wrong. I wasn't fired. Hello? I was laid off - I even have it in writing that this was not based on work performance in the least. No, the company is sinking and in dire straits. I was at a salary, that I'm sure they wanted to lower, with no boss. If anything, I should have stood in the lobby with my head held high...that or stuck my tongue out at them and thumbed my chin in the CEO's direction. But hide? I then turned to face the group and as I did, L ran up to me and blocked me from their view.

Ah-hah...the suggestion for me to hide in the corner wasn't for me at all. It was for the remaining employees. Okay, well I get it. I could smell their fear from where I was standing as it was. Why scare them further by parading a causality (that'd be me) in front of their faces?

I hung back with L in the corner until most of the employees were out of the lobby, and as we walked back to where my purse and boxes (!) of personal items were sitting, in walked two employees. One is an executive I've always respected and another employee whom I had worked closely with in the last few months. I walked up to the executive and shook his hand, looking him in the eye completely relaxed. He wished me well and told me I'd be fine. That is how these interactions should go. Unlike the other employee who scurried off trying to avoid eye contact. Geez...this must be what it feels like to be marked.

L was very kind to me, though. She's a sweetheart and she told me some things I can't mention on here, but it comforted me. My loss of my job was absolutely not my fault and entirely out of my hands. I will also be missed professionally at that company...already am. L kept repeating, "take care of yourself, whatever you do." Of course. I'm not going to curl up into a fetus-shaped ball and drown my sorrows in beer and chips (although that does sound good right now).

I don't mean to sound cavalier in the least. I'm scared and I admit it. But I'm also tough and capable...and guess what? I.Am.Not.Alone. Misery loves company and never has that been truer. As I got home this afternoon, my neighbor (who's been out of work for a couple of months) was outside. She asked me how it went and I shared the story with her. She just laughed and said we ought to have a cocktail one night. I'm going to take her up on that.

As for the two huge boxes of personal items, I must harp back to what I said earlier in this entry. My ex company doesn't have the sense God gave a lemon. Half of what they packed up are things that do not belong to me. Seriously. I have no clue where they got them either as I do not recall them in my desk drawers, and a couple of the items I made very clear as I left over a week ago were not mine. It's like they just threw anything they could find in the boxes and, oh look, here is some other laid off employee's stuff, let's just give it to M.E. and be done with it. WTF?

Here are my favorite items to receive from this grab-bag of things that do not belong to me:

Teddy Mittens. That is all.



I guess they are preparing me for the long haul? Plastic forks, knives and plates - really, these are not mine.

And these three items, two of which belonged to my ex boss, are the oddest.


That's a Buddy Holly costume that my ex boss had me purchase for him for a company event just before he left "to pursue other opportunities." It belongs to the company, but okay. I guess I know what I'm wearing for Halloween next year. The blue pail was also my ex boss' that the company bought for him. And that dreadful sweater? I bet you it belongs to an assistant in the building whom I can't stand (and the only one skinny enough to fit in it). I think I'll use it to clean Patsy with, it's so soft.

Anyway, that's been my day. I did send two resumes and I have a meeting with a placement firm tomorrow. For now, I have to get up and clean up my living room, which is now cluttered with all of the crap from those boxes. Sigh. I think I need a vacation from my lay off.

a present on Presidents Day

I got a knock on the door this morning around 10:30am. This is what arrived:

It's the HP Pavilion dv7t Entertainment PC that my father ordered for me. The man does not mess around as this thing is huge and very fancy. I've never had a laptop this nice! I will absolutely pay him back for it once I'm rehired. But for now, I'm giggling like a kid on Christmas morning. The screen is wide and so easy to read! (thanks, Dad, you were way too kind to me! NT! NT!)

On another note, it's raining cats and dogs...and you might as well throw in a few bearded dragons since it's pouring that badly! Geez, we need it, but I'd rather not float out to sea on Patsy due to all this sudden moisture. In Sierre Madre they're gearing up for mudslides given that the hillsides burned in the past year. The news is focused on their sandbag efforts in those hills. If it's not flame, it's flood...the joy of desert dwelling. People forget that this town of fake tans & boobies is really just one big desert, and it's pretty funny to hear folks complain when it rains. I do it myself sometimes until I smack myself upside my own head. I'm lucky to live here and a little rain won't make me melt. But it has curtailed any riding today. That's okay. I've been job searching, filed for unemployment (first time in all of my working life) and am straightening up around my apartment. I have dinner plans tonight with some sweet friends (who are cooking), so I'll need to run out for Cuban bread and crickets (not for my friends but for Stephie). Other than that, it's a rainy, unexciting day.

Well...except for my new toy, er, laptop. (NT, Dad, NT!!!!)

One last thing. I met the stunningly gorgeous (and I do mean it, I was shocked at how pretty she is) LADaze on Saturday at Tour de Palm Springs. I asked her permission to post her pic on here as I would not want to encourage stalkers (and stalkers, take note, her equally good looking BF who is not pictured here appeared more than able to defend his woman, so I'd suggest you not consider it). Here is a pic I snapped of her at the start line (where I also almost caused her to fall off her bike trying to hug her):

She's a looker, that girl!

recovery from recovery

Yeah...um...never let a racer boy lead the pack on recovery ride day. They enjoy the pain and will kick it up a notch ignoring any signal from their own body that they are hurting. And when you ask them if they are sore, they'll lie and say, "nope, not at all." That's what happened today, and the racer boy lied, like a banshee!

Herb, The Colonel, The Lobsters and I took off this morning for a fantastic 38 mile flat(ish) recovery ride from Toluca Lake to Woodland Hills. Our plan was to ride out to Corner Bakery to pose over coffee and then ride back - easy, spin kind of riding for recovery. That was the plan...until we jumped on the 'Jason Train.' That boy can fly on his bike and Lisa, his better half, will pump it up a notch too, all while smiling that pretty smile of hers. Sneaky lobsters. They knew what they were doing and it was all I could do to hang on the back of the wheels in front of me.

But to say I didn't love it would be lying myself. I dug it! We had a little wind, overcast skies and cool temps - perfect riding weather. We struck an aggressive pace out to Woodland Hills, posed (very well, might I add) and had treats for sure. Herb and I split a sandwich (he treated since I'm a bum, the sweetie). Birds flirted with us in hopes of some crumbs and jokes were made (but, of course).

The Colonel was a little quiet today, but we could tell he was having fun. After our pose session, we hammered hard into the wind. I was sweating like crazy and my heart was beating in my ears, which is just the kind of recovery ride to remind you that you didn't work hard enough the day before! We were back by 2:00pm and it was, again, a fantastic day. I really adore this group of wonderful adults.

The temperaments and personalities are unique, the humor spot on. I'm the spaz of the group, which wouldn't surprise anyone, but they tolerate my petting them and telling them how much I appreciate their company and willingness to ride with me. They and the ride make days like this worth the effort. My video shenanigans:

in the desert on a bike for 100 miles...yeah, baby

Tour de Palm Springs is crazy packed each year, and this year was no exception. Although, The Colonel, Herb and I agreed that this year it seemed a little less so than prior years. They say upwards of 10,000 folks come out wearing their finest Lycra for this flat(ish) 100 miler through the desert, but I sure didn't think there were that many people. Regardless, there were lots of cyclists out there yesterday. Some of those riders were boneheads, but I'll get to that in a minute.

First, I must tell you that I love road trips! I'm not crazy about 5+ hour ones, but anything less than that, and I'm all over it. Lucky for me, The Colonel (who feels sorry for my current bum status) offered for me to join him and Herb. We headed out of Dodge right at 10:30am on Friday morning. Traffic was agreeable and by noon, we were in Banning chowing down on our KFC, extra-crispy. We listened to a mix of tunes (most of which were favorite classic rock and pop songs) and chatted about the hopes of scoring good deals at the bike expo. Imagine the letdown when we got there and few deals were to be found. Didn't matter, we walked around under gorgeous blue skies and a warmer than expected sun (no rain in Palm Springs the entire time we were there!). After 1/2 hour of booth shopping we headed to the hotel. Just as we arrived, so did The Lobsters, who so sweetly allowed me to stay in their room for the night (they had double beds, so no air mattress was needed).

That evening, we all headed to a spaghetti joint, whose spaghetti was spot on, and carbo-ed up. I felt like a stuffed crab cake afterwards, puffy and round, but I knew I'd work it off the following day. After a little social hour (watching Scrubs reruns on the hotel TV) we all headed off to bed early. I personally didn't sleep well (I never do in hotels) but I woke feeling fine anyway. We topped off our carbs at breakfast, dressed and headed to CPK in downtown Palm Springs (the meeting spot for other riders to join us). The Colonel and Herb have the perfect routine when doing this century, and we were parked in a covered parking structure not but a 1/2 mile from the start. We aired our tires, were joined by Vidad and were off to meet other folks.

At CPK, we were joined by Dan, a cyclist I've always liked and haven't seen in awhile. He'd driven up from San Diego the night before and had called join us for dinner. But seeing as how we ate at 5pm, it was too early for him to make it. In the morning, however, he arrived right on time, as did several other cyclists I hadn't seen for months. I was thrilled and already excited about the ride ahead, hugging on everyone and snapping photos. It was definitely chilly out (42 degrees...brrrrr) but clear. I had on my fleece jersey, arm warmers, fleece tights, wool socks, beanie and a jacket. Turns out, I dressed perfect for the day. I did end up with my jacket around my waist by noon, but since I'm truly a Fred, I never care.

After the greetings, we lined up, ready to take off on our second CAM century for the year, and in waves, the cyclists all began clipping in and pulling out of town. It was slow starting, there were so many cyclists all around, some weaving in and out to get ahead of the crowd and others going way too slow to be riding in the middle of the road! We worked our way around them and headed into ridiculous winds - headwinds and crosswinds! Vidad, Jason and Mark dropped us and we didn't see them again until the end. It was Herb, Lisa, Dan and me for most of the day (Dan dropped out at the 50-mile option turnaround point due to asthma). We pushed a little too hard through the wind as Herb was hoping to meet a goal of a 6.5 hour ride time on this century. I didn't care if we did or didn't but I respect a goal and was ready to rise to the challenge. I'm never fast in the first 30 miles of any century, though, and the winds were not helping nor were the hills! Tour de Palm Springs' climbs are front-loaded and not difficult (nothing over 4% grade) but they seem to go on for an eternity.

We all made it up the hills and through the winds fine and it didn't much matter as we had to cool our heels once we hit the first rest stop. Here, all the riders bottle-necked and you had to just walk your bike. Herb turned to me at this point and said, "I'm thinking a 7 hour ride time is more like it." I agreed. I mean, why stress?

After the first stop came the sweetest downhill, one I hit 37mph on easily. The air was cold on my cheeks and my fingers were numb (like a dummy, I took my long fingered gloves off right before the descent). I didn't care. I was high by this point, so happy to be out on my bike with good friends on such an amazing day. We stopped by rest stop 2, filled our water bottles and took off into the wind (Dan left us in this stretch ). It was here that I knew I could give strong pulls as my legs were exceptionally strong yesterday. I jumped in front and began pulling and kept the pull for many miles. I dug it even when I felt like throwing up (The Colonel was impressed when I told him this). My legs ached a bit but I wanted to push myself. By the time we arrived for lunch, I was starving! I did as Herb had told me to and took two half sandwiches, threw away one set of bread and piled the ham on the one piece I had left. I ate that with a small cup full of Chex Mix - delicious!

We took off again into the winds and hit an aggressive pace. Lisa, who just keeps getting stronger, pushed hard (and the woman never complains!) Herb was holding his own, but I could tell he didn't feel his best. He hates wind (who doesn't) and was beating himself up a bit. I just teased him and kept "yippee-ing" to try and cheer him up. It seemed to work a little (he just gives up with me and appeases my inner child). We were a good team (I called us 'Team Herbie' all day) throughout the entire ride. We ran into many great folks along the way and many wonderful riders. We also ran into a bunch of idiots. Some folks should not be allowed to buy bikes, let alone ride them! But I knew this about this ride, so I kept a watchful eye. I heard there were some crashes but fortunately no one we knew was involved. The Colonel almost got taken out buy a guy who pulled a U-turn and ran into him, but The Colonel stayed upright, thank goodness!

At about mile 90, we were all ready to be done. It was one last quick stop (to recharge) before we hauled ass back to the Finish Line. I couldn't wait to put on dry clothes and actually managed to change in the parking lot with just a beach towel covering my exposables. We hugged everyone goodbye and then it was back on the road and to KFC again! So, yummy...except The Colonel wouldn't let me have so much as a sip of his Root Beer float so I got my own and pigged out. Sigh. I won't lose any weight from this weekend but I had a hell of a good time!!!

Fantastic all around and CAM 2 down, 10 more to go. Yippee!

Some goofing video taking of mine:

More pics are here: (click)

salon day superfly

Patsy had her salon day today. I did too, but it was the poor girl version, my usual. I soak my hair with Hydrogen Peroxide and put it in the sun which bleaches it. Oddly, of late, it's been turning it a little more strawberry blond than bleached blond which is fine by me. Here is my (poor girl) salon treatment:



And here is Patsy, in her salon chair chillin' while her chain soaks:

And this is me, giving her a facial (she's now superfly):

(Yes, I know what you're thinking, 'she's not normal.' But really, who is?)

I cleaned and lubed Patsy up for my century ride on Saturday. In fact, tomorrow, Herb, The Colonel and I are carpooling to Palm Springs for the Tour de Palm Springs Century (our second century for the CAM Challenge). Car trip! Yippee! We're leaving at 10am and stopping in some hoe dunk town to eat lunch at the best place ever - KFC! I love KFC and can't wait to mix my coleslaw with my mashed potatoes (try it, it's that good). We then head to a bike expo when we get to Palm Springs, an early spaghetti dinner and then to bed early. we'll all be back up at 5:00am to get bundled up (it's going to be freezing!), eat breakfast and take off.

I'm bringing Porto's Bakery goodies for the group to enjoy for breakfast on Saturday. I stopped by there today to retrieve some butter/sugar carb bombs and ordered a treat for myself. That bakery is so cheap. For $2, I got myself two chicken empanadas and one sugar cookie. The empanadas were warm, fresh and flaky with salty chicken filling that surprises the tongue with a slight hint of red chile. The cookie melted on my tongue like a buttery-sugary explosion. For those $2, I got a good 7,000 calories worth. The Pudge approved, of course, and is a huge fan of Portos. I tried working the lard off by riding Nellie in my canyons for 1.5 hours just following my splurge, but I doubt I made a dent. Thank goodness I'm riding 100 miles in two days!

Oh, and I won't be blogging again until Saturday night or possibly even Sunday. Gasp! This is my addiction now, a place to blabber away, a release and my form of yoga (I'm not bendy anywhere else but in my mind, where I'm really bent). I'm leaving the laptop behind (duh) and will be riding my angst away all day Saturday. Can't wait!!!! I love centuries. Herb and I are going for a 6.5 hour century (ride time, I assume). Hopefully, if no rain hits, we'll achieve that goal. Regardless, we'll be stopping at KFC again on the drive back from Palm Springs. KFC twice in two days...combined with a long bike ride with good friends, it doesn't get much better than that.

visual poetry

I suspect you've already seen this video, but I'm putting it up anyway as it deserves continued replay:




As horrific as those man made wildfires in Australia are (may the arsonists all rot in hell), this moment where a little koala, who has since been named Sam, surviving and being rescued by the firefighters is truly touching. It breaks my heart to think of all of the other wildlife killed in those fires, and it goes without saying that the loss of human lives is an unspeakable outcome from such a senseless act. I still marvel at anyone's desire to spark such devastation and to ruin so many lives.

Still, seeing one of the world's most delicate creatures, a koala, hold the hand of a firefighter as he laps the water being offered him is visual poetry at it's finest. The koala will survive and is being cared for. The firefighter will doubtfully ever forget his fateful encounter in the brush. Just one small light in an otherwise dark moment in world history. Hats off to the firefighter, and may Sam someday be returned to his natural home, a wilderness that has been damn near reduced to ashes in a blink of an eye.

perhaps I should squeeze out 15

Being that I'm home more now (which has it's positives, I must admit), I'm also watching the news more. I'm not a TV person, so if I do turn it on, I'll turn to channel 38, CNN, and listen to the world's crazy circus events as background noise. And in the morning, I'll skim all the reputable news channels (in lieu of just watching FOX News).

In the last two days, I've become obsessed with the whole octuplets birth and the (crazy as hell) mother who first had six embryos implanted, then 6 more (which turned into 8), and then squeezed them out in two separate shifts (theoretically anyway; in reality, she had them cut out). I'm sure you've seen it, but if not, here is Ms. Suleman defending her right to bear babies.

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Now, after the initial news reports regarding these births, comes the backlash criticism when Ms. Suleman is revealed to be a nut job (and dipshit) who is not only unemployed and living with her exhausted, overwhelmed mother, but who feels entitled to have 14 children for her 'village' to take care of (this village would be her mom, friends, church goers and, apparently, taxpayers...oh, lookie there, I'm a villager!). Criticism doesn't do much good when you're dealing with a disillusioned individual who wasn't sterilized after her first go-around (that would be her first six children, three of whom have disabilities and need extra care, and government assistance). Criticism does little more than slap this mother on the wrist...but be careful, a child is likely attached to it and could be harmed in the process. She states that her choice was 'unconventional' while any rational person would find it appalling, irresponsible and disturbing (to say the least).

I thought about it today. In lieu of searching for a new job, I could make a smarter investment. What if I out-birthed Ms. Suleman and produced a brood of 15? Technically, all the fertility doctor (and I'd go to hers, Dr. Kamrava, for the win!) would have to do is split the egg-sperm combos into shifts of 7 and 8 (and with any luck, I might even - surprise! - develop a couple more, ending up with 17!). I'm athletic, I endure lots of pain on the bike, surely I can 'bear down' and deliver - or they can just cut 'em out as I'm not looking to be original here. Think of the money I'd make not only milking the system but in interview fees, book deals and made-for-TV movies (which you'd better believe are coming for Ms. Suleman). Quite honestly, I call her a dipshit when really I should exalt her as an outright genius. Who knew that a woman could use her uterus for such financial gain and attention? And here I thought the vagina was our selling point. Hell no! Skip that little, boring canal altogether, as well as the totally useless cervix, and go for the gold!

Yes, of course I'm being sarcastic stupid, but this whole thing cracks me up. As nutty as this young woman may be (and really, she isn't that young and should know better by age 33), she isn't the only one to blame for this whole stunt she's pulled in the name of baby-loving. Nor is the creepy doctor (I mean, really, can he be any creepier?). I think all of us are to blame, our pumped-up on 'me me me' steroids society, where everyone, no matter who you are, deserves the American Dream. You know? - the spouse, the house, the dog, the white picket fence and the offspring. It's force fed to us from the tender age of birth and even if one comes from a tragically abusive home life, all one has to do is turn on the boobtube to see the many spoils we Americans are entitled to just for being...well...American (I guess) represented and espoused. I see Ms. Suleman's excessive embryo-plantation as absolutely topical and fitting to our current economic bubble burst. She is the American Dream personified, caricatured and blown up to a grotesquely obscene image in all its horrific glory. Why just have one or two children when you can have 14? And why worry if you can't afford them babies...there's a bailout coming to rescue you.

Speaking of grotesque, and I'm sorry if I sound cruel here, but the woman even looks the part with her puffed-up all to hell lips and vapid stare. All of the news reporters I watched drool over this story today commented on Ms. Suleman looking like Angelia Jolie. Um...yeah, if Mrs. Pitt had a tube inserted up her ass and was being filled with helium, perhaps. Otherwise, I don't see the resemblance. In fact, Ms. Suleman reminds me more of a mouse...a real mouse like the one my father once owned.

It was when I was eleven or twelve, around that time, that Dad decided he wanted a couple of mice for pets. They were cute for sure, but he had no clue he'd purchased a boy and girl mouse (or maybe he did; I've never asked). Sure enough, nature took its course, and the little girl mouse was swollen with baby mice in no time. She popped out a good 8 or 10 of them. Dad refused to remove her from the tank, and the next thing we knew, she was squeezing out another 8 or 10. Unlike Ms. Suleman, the mouse hadn't experienced a deep longing from childhood to have strong connections with others and didn't want all them little babies trying to suck off her teats. Mama mouse promptly ate about four of her octuplets. That was all it took for my mother to intervene, remove the mother mouse and put her in a separate, small glass tank where she just sat, still swollen and misshapen from the multi-births like some sad, over-stretched and then deflated, furry balloon. That's what Ms. Suleman looks like to me...an over-birthed mouse.

Looks aside, she's clearly beating to her own drum. She's also enjoying the attention and will, no doubt, come out the winner in this situation. Her part of the apple pie dream involving a husband, house, dog and picket fence may have fallen apart - but the embryos took. Now, her inner longing for close connections can be fulfilled while 14 children get to experience isolation and possible future ridicule because of the situation they've been brought into, not by choice. It's really sick to me on so many levels and hopeless. You can be as mad as you want at the mother and the doctor and demand tax payer money not be sacrificed for Ms. Suleman's damaged cause, but throwing those babies out with the the bath water would be unfair and (a word Ms. Suleman's mother used in her webcast) unconscionable. So, I'm afraid, we the taxpayers are stuck with this bill...while others are losing their jobs, homes and good schools for their children. [insert amazing celebrity singer belting out the National Anthem here]






Hopefully, this example of excess will teach us all a lesson. No, not every woman should have the right to bear babies as she pleases. Really, babies should only be brought into this world by those who can afford them. I'm not concerned with the math on this either - husband and wife, single mom, single dad, husband and husband or wife and wife - just have the finances and emotional resources to take care of a little person(s). And for the love of earth preservation, don't bring more than four into the world. If you want to adopt 50 needy children who are already here, go for it! But this creepy embryo implantation thing is just that...creepy. The only exception would be for a woman who can afford a child but can't biologically bear one. But a broke, unemployed, mentally unstable woman should never be given this right. As we've all seen with our very own eyes, the results can be disastrous for so many reasons...14 to be exact.

As for me? I'll stick with my barren uterus, okay? It can shrivel up and recede into the abyss of my abdominal cavity as far as I'm concerned. I'd prefer that to having it sag down until it pokes out through my Netherlands like a sixth appendage. So, no book or TV deals for me, sigh. I'm stuck looking for work the good ol' fashioned way. I bet you think I'm hinting at becoming a hooker, don't you? I thought that over today, too, but really, my resume is so far beyond that - it would be a shame to waste my other skills in life.

Which reminds me. I applied for a couple of positions today and have a meeting with a placement firm next week. The process has begun, my place is clean, and I rode my bike again today.

Life is still good.

renegade crickets

I got most of what I wanted to do done today. I also did some job searching. Tomorrow I will email my resume to different folks and apply for a position that sounds interesting (a friend emailed me the listing). I discovered that I can't apply for unemployment until next week as I'm being paid for this week and am technically still employed with my ex-company. So bizarre that they did that, but perhaps they feared I'd go postal or something, so they kept me on for one more week but kicked me out physically. Others were let go that day, so perhaps it was just the protocol, but I still find it odd. Hey, I'll take it and it's nice to know that I'm being paid for this full week, which is separate from any other agreement. Not fully understanding how this works, I spent a lot of time this morning wading through the CA Gov website trying to grasp the whole process of claiming UEI.

Around 1pm, I had had enough. I know it's going to rain the rest of the week and it was so pretty outside. I figured I'd ride up in the canyons around my hood and then drive to pick up crickets and worms for Stephie. I have to drive to Burbank, a good 7 miles away to get her food as Sherman Oaks has no reptile pet shop. The main shop that was here closed a few months back. Bummer, but really, 7 miles is no biggie. Then the light bulb went on - I would ride Nellie with a backpack to pick up the crickets/worms! Seemed like a perfect plan: I would save gas, get my errand done and get a workout in.

So, I threw on the Freddiest of Fred outfits, slapped my backpack on and took off. Um...weekday traffic is so much more dangerous than weekend traffic! That's for sure - on Riverside Drive, I feared for my life. Motorists are in such a hurry and rarely look both ways carefully before swinging broadly out of a private drive or parking lot. Fortunately, I was fully attentive today and saw the dumbasses before they could take my leg off while making a turn, thereby avoiding limb loss or death.



When I arrived at the pet shop, the gal who sold me Stephie was there (she always is). Her name is Nicole and she's real cute. She reminds me of my long-lost friend, Christine Steel. In fact, she bears such a shocking resemblance to Christine when she was that young, I almost call Nicole "Christine" as I walk in each time. Nicole is all of 21 years old and owns 53 snakes, 3 dragons and a Tegu. I've seen the Tegu, and although striking in appearance, that reptile is huge! I asked Nicole today how it was doing, and she said "she's doing just great." I also asked if 'she' ever bites. "You'll know If she's ever bitten me, because I'll be missing a finger," Nicole replied with a quirky smile. "That's the best part I guess, the danger of owning her."

Yeah...not really. I'll stick with my bearded dragon, thank you. She may be a little piggy but she never bites! The most she does is puff her fluffy beard (fluffy for a reptile, that is) up at me when she can't see me in the dark above her terrarium or I open the front door next to her glass (which for some reason scares the daylights out of her; I've been trying to remember to open the door gently when I leave or come home). I boasted to Nicole that Stephie is the best pet ever, which she is, fat belly and all. Nicole advised me to make sure Stephie gets exercise. She does, believe me. I let her run all around the living room, which she loves up until she gets cold, at which time she makes it known that she wants back in her terrarium. She never wants back in when I have worms though, go figure. Heh heh...she really is like her FatHead here.

After packing up my backpack with the cricket container and the worms, I headed back home, only this time I cut up north to Chandler Ave., a much quieter street than Riverside! I rode on the Orange Line Bike Path until it ended and then stayed on Chandler all the way home.

I ended up with 16 miles, which isn't too shabby on a mountain bike! I got a perfect workout. The only thing I didn't foresee were that a few crickets would get loose in my backpack. I dumped my backpack and they went running for the hills (under my couch)! Damnit. I'll have to remember that next time. Hopefully, Stephie will get them when I let her out next. In the meantime, I fed her a couple of worms, huge ones, and I videotaped it to show JT (my sister and I are so very similar in that we love any little animal, and lizards are just darling to us; however, we both agree that we draw the line at tarantulas). So, those of you who have no desire to watch my dragon devour an enormous worm, skip it!

I just had a renegade cricket crawl across my foot. Ewww! I know crickets don't bite, but they still creep me out a little...especially now that I view them as Stephie does, as food (for her).

remembering how to do it

When I was 16 years old and had just entered my Junior year of high school, I heard of a program called 'early admissions' (to college) that Austin Peay State University offered. This is the university in my home town, and I was already very familiar with the campus, in particular the (then) building that housed the Drama Department. I'd been in several college productions there already (considered community theatre productions), and I was more than happy to enroll.

In order to enter college early, I had to achieve a higher score than 23 on my ACT test (this was back in 1986, so no SAT). I had three attempts to make a higher score. I failed at my first attempt due to Math, which was always my weakest subject (how ironic is it that I just was laid off from a company where I was in Finance for over 5.5 years?). After that first attempt, I signed up for math tutoring with a fella from the university (whom I had a secret crush on, but who had zero interest in me). After two weeks of hard work, I then took the ACTs twice more. They say three times is the charm and it was, I passed with a score of 26. in 1987, during my Senior year of high school, I took one English class at my high school and then promptly drove to the university to finish out the day with college courses.

I was already ahead of my class in maturity anyway, given that I'd been working since I was 15 years old and had moved out of my parents' house for extended periods, so my ditching my Senior year of high school was doubtfully surprising to anyone. I still worked part time at the same jewelry store where I was hired at 15 and eventually found a college roommate to share a two-bedroom apartment with (up until that point I bounced between dorm rooms, rented rooms in folks' homes and my mother's house). I was beyond excited to move into my first true 'grownup' apartment. Marie, my roommate, was too, and the two of us got along perfectly.



We were both majoring in Communications and Theatre, single with no kids (which was beating the odds in the south for two 18 year old girls) and had boundless energy. We scrounged up as much money as we could (which wasn't much) and bought furniture from thrift stores. Mom then gave me some items from the house (thank you, Mom!), including a beautiful painting my uncle had painted years prior. Marie's parents pitched in too, and by the time we were done, our apartment was a funky mix of (country) Shabby Chic and Mod. We'd drink berry wine coolers and smoke cigarettes out on the balcony with candles lit in the living room behind us, the curtains rustling in the light night breeze. I can still picture the starlit sky from one of our evenings hanging out on that balcony, gossiping about our fellow students and sharing our dreams. I remember being happy then, feeling grown up and free.

I was also poor. Really poor. I had my financial loans (which seemed like a fortune back then, but with school costs, books and rent, it was stretched pitifully thin) and my part-time job barely covered my food, gas and incidentals. Marie worked part time at a fast food joint, and often I would swing by for a 'sneaky snack' where she'd sell me a sandwich, fries and a coke at her employee discount. We'd somehow find a few extra bucks on the weekends and go out for beers at the local university pub, The 'Brary. There we'd smoke Virginia Slims (or Marlboros if the Slims were sold out), listen to the jukebox, flirt with boys and think we were the hottest things going. We weren't, but we still liked to think we were.

I was actually obese at the time with a bright blond, poodle perm, something that was common in my hometown (fat and permed). I always wore bright red lipstick and pastel colored shirts. I couldn't afford Mall clothes much, so I'd shop at Thrift Stores. Marie did too, and we had a knack for digging through racks of used clothing and creating unique outfits. Our favorite 'finds' were over sized men's blazers, hats and ties (yes, ties). We would then dress in our ensembles, put on one big dangle earring, perfect our 'big hair,' and sing to various country and pop tunes in the mirror (I know the lyrics to Crazy, Black Velvet and Papa Don't Preach still to this day). We'd then head out to The 'Brary and 'on the town.' I suspect that as silly as we looked (trying to emulate the pop stars and actors of that decade), we were also quite cute.

Since our funds were so low, we'd make up recipes to stretch out over the week. One I can recall was white rice/carrots/peas/shredded chicken/chicken broth/butter/Tabasco sauce. I know, sounds gross, huh? Well, when you're hungry, that concoction tasted like a gourmet dish! For dessert, we'd take Circus Peanuts, stuff them into mini-pretzels and eat them. We loved Circus Peanuts for some reason and would even serve them in little daisy-dishes when we had boyfriends over! The men could have cared less what we served since they weren't there for our cooking.

I remember this time in my life as a calm one. I had dramas at school (silly stuff and the kind that comes along with being a member of a theatre group) and hopes of having my dreams come true in some distant, rosy future. But I never once felt poor or desperate. I never felt sorry for myself either. I didn't see other girls on campus, dressed in Guess jeans and Gloria Vanderbilt sweaters, and envy them. I didn't resent my having to pinch pennies and shop at thrift stores. I simply didn't think any of that was all that bad, really. I just did what I had to do. Of course, I could always drive home to Mom's to get a good meal if I needed or visit my sister in Nashville where she lived with her then boyfriend while attending Belmont University. I was just grateful to be at school (and in my second year, I won a partial performance scholarship which helped quite a bit with funds).

I bring this up today as I have, in the past few days, switched so very easily back into that young woman's frame of mind. I'm not broke at present and am just fine financially for awhile. But my inner voice, that part of me that has never forgotten where I come from, is already hollering at me (kindly and with humor) to 'save, save, save!' To give you an example, I normally take my recyclables over to the local Ralph's and leave them for the neighborhood homeless to use for some extra cash. For now, and until I'm employed again, I've decided to do my own recycling and keep the cash myself! (but just for now and I'll eventually go back to what I was doing as so many of those folks need it and appreciate getting the cans/bottles/etc. to recycle). I'm also watching every cent I spend and commented to a friend yesterday that I was in 'lock down' mode. It comes naturally to me, kind of like a skill that I've never regretted learning.

Yesterday, I got a lot done but got frustrated at the Wi-fi cafe. I appreciate having one so close but after four days of going there, I was tired of the constant interruptions by others. Luckily, my sweet friend loaned me her home laptop (until my new laptop arrives sometime this week). I drove over last night and picked it up for use. I've got three things I must complete this morning (and then I'm going for a bike ride in my canyons). I have to finish typing my resume, apply for unemployment online (I tried doing this yesterday at the Cafe and the computer I was using froze; I lost everything I had typed! Grrr) and email my resume to some folks. I've been looking online at jobs, but I already know that the best route to go is through a good recruiter and networking. The wonderful recruiter who placed me at my ex company years ago is no longer in the business or I'd head straight back to her. But I've had kind offers made to me already from friends who said they'll get my resume in the hands of a couple of solid recruiters. I appreciate every offer of help being extended in my direction, so I have to get things done!

Then, later, I'm going shopping to get ingredients for a big batch of turkey chili. As much as I use to eat the white-rice-mix-matched-casserole, I have outgrown my taste for that! So, turkey chili it will be, which will last me for at least four days.

Yup...I'm remembering how to do it, the pinching pennies and living lean.

ridden hard and put away wet

I couldn't resist. Heh heh.

Seriously, today was wicked wacky with wild weather (how's that for alliteration?) California rarely gets such fickle skies as we saw today, and all day we out-rode the storm! There were 'cells' blowing through bringing isolated showers and although we rode on wet roads at times, we were not rained on (except for a brief 10 minutes after lunch).

It was a great group - The Colonel, Herbie, Jason, Tom, Linda, Debbie and me. (Sadly, Lisa was not feeling well, so The Lobsters were but one claw today.) We departed from Herb's a little after 9am, and first met up with Tom and then met another cyclist along the way (one I won't identify). I was feeling strong today and hammered like mad, staying up with the faster pack until the cyclist I won't identify got into a pissing match with a motorist. I hate when men do this (sorry, guys, but I've NEVER seen a female engage a motorist like I have men). The motorist cut the pack off and, granted, should have been pulled over by a cop (had there been one to witness the incident) and, granted, the motorist was in the wrong. But the cyclist then pounded on the motorist's car with his fist and yelled something (you guess what).

I knew what would happen next. The motorist came back after us. I slowed instantly and screamed at the cyclist to back off, but did he? Hell no. Like a man who can't control his temper, he got into a yelling contest with the motorist and a passenger in the car. Thing is, the cyclist could have gotten himself (and anyone around him including yours truly) injured or killed. Sorry, but I'm in the camp that believes (oh, due to physics and all) that a 2,000 pound piece of metal can run over and kill a 100+ pound human on a 20 pound piece of carbon, aluminum or steel. So, we as cyclists will not win, ever. I made the decision today that I will never ride with that cyclist again (he may be on a ride, but I'll not ride near him in the least). My safety is more important than the male ego. Sorry, boys, but when you pull a stunt like that in defense of 'your rights' you lose my respect. This cyclist would have appeared more powerful in my eyes by not letting his temper get the better of him.

After that drama, I hung back with the others. I had the legs to push it today but was unwilling at that point and instead switched into 'fun mode.' I had great company to stay with, so my decision was the better one, anyway! We rode a good pace out to Encanto Park, where we took a break. It was here that the first drops of rain were felt. We wished for 'rain, rain go away!' and took off, determined to make it to a Cuban bakery in Monrovia for lunch without getting caught in a storm. Our wish came true and over scrumptious Cuban sandwiches (pork, ham, cheese & pickles on Cuban bread, for the win!) we relaxed. The rain really came down at this point, so we stayed an hour to let it pass. This was my favorite part of the day, talking to Linda and Debbie, two wonderful, smart, funny women. I loved the girl chat. They are going to help me network to hopefully secure a good job, and I really appreciate it.

In fact, this sweet group of friends have rallied around me. Herb, but of course, has been supportive in so many ways. Mark offered to print out resumes for me and invited me to carpool with him and Herb to Palm Springs next week - taking a burden off me for sure! Lisa and Jason have offered to let me crash on the floor of their hotel room, which means no finances will be used next week (other than food). This means so much to me and I'm really touched by the kindness of these fantastic humans. I'm lucky they are my friends. Then with Linda and Debbie's kind offers, I was floored. Well, I hope to somehow pay them back or, at the very least, pay it forward. In the meantime, I'm accepting the offers of help and am humbly moved by them.

After the rain stopped, we left the bakery and headed home. The men took off on their own path, except Herb who stuck with the women folk. We were hit with some raindrops but nothing to complain about and by the time we descended back down Verdugo Blvd. in Montrose, the roads were again dry. Beautiful views wowed us on the last section home and everyone finished safe. Phew! I love these types of ride days and with 60.7 miles under my belt (saddle), I'm on a high tonight. And a positive? I don't have to go to work tomorrow. Yup. I'm viewing that as a positive. Every step in the process will be viewed as such. I'm wringing the negativity out of my formerly tense, angry, depressed constitution...a state of mind that's been with me for over two years too long. Yeah, that perspective thing is helping.

Perspective always has a way of doing that....well, that and cycling.

Here are pics of the wild weather we rode in and under: http://www.flickr.com/photos/merider/sets/72157613502161239/

I had a great video, but it's taking too long to upload. Until I have a laptop of my own, I can't stay at the Wi-fi cafe to do it. F*ck...I must say - I hate not having my laptop. Sigh.

And one last pic that I took on the way over to the Wi-fi cafe tonight. I couldn't believe this moon as normally I could never catch it on film:

clearing it out and feeding the dragon

I made excellent progress today on my apartment. I'm really going through everything to straighten, every drawer, file, closet, etc. Well, I haven't started on the 'black holes' yet, but I'm slowly but surely cleaning the rest of it it out. I say 'out' as I'm getting rid of what I don't need. I'm determined to utilize my space to the best of it's tiny ability. My 1953 apartment is smaller than what I'd like but I can guarantee you that right now, I've never been happier to be in it and paying the tinier rent that comes with it's narrow, shoe-box closets.

I was down talking to my neighbor, Alia, about my new unemployed status and picking her brain. She's an HR representative for some West side company, and her perspective was welcomed. She reassured me that there are many positions out there, especially for what I do and in line with my skills and experience. She warned that I might have to drive 'over the hill' to the West side for a higher paying position, but if I wasn't interested in that, then looking here in the valley is a viable option. She also asked (politely) what my exact financial situation is, how much I'd have for the remaining months, what I have in savings, etc. and when I told her, her pretty brown eyes widened. "You're kidding?" she asked. "You do realize that you could pay your rent off for the year and live on unemployment? You really shouldn't worry, M.E."

I'd be lying if I said that wasn't comforting and tempting. But I'm a southerner and from a proud, hard-working family. There is no way I could just lounge for months on end until desperate. No, I'll be itching to be out working again in less than a month. I am happy to not have any extra stress of worrying how I'd make rent next month (as is the situation of some out there who have lost their jobs), and I'd urge anyone who knows me (and who reads this) to take note. Get out of debt if you are in it and live within your means! That's exactly what I've done in the past ten years, and because of that, I'm not worried, won't starve and can, for once, take a deep breath and really consider options.

Of course, with all of this said, I do now have an extra hungry mouth to feed, and that extra mouth belongs to a pig...a pig in the shape of a dragon. Stephie (whom I've now nicknamed both Chicken and Boo) actually comes up to the front glass of her terrarium and bobs her head at me to insist I come give her worms (or crickets). I'm not kidding. She is such a smart little animal. She knows what the worm containers look like and where I keep them. And forget about it with the crickets...she goes nuts when she sees those in their cricket container and smacks her head against her terrarium glass walls (I try to hide the crickets when I come in so she won't injure herself trying to get at them). She's like her 'FatHead' here - she likes to eat too much! But she's so damn cute, it's hard to deny her. Plus, I've been letting her just roam around the apartment lately. It turns out that she doesn't want to play 'Run and Hide from FatHead." Nope. She just wants to snoop and check things out, and she eventually comes back to her worm basket (which is the basket I keep beside her terrarium so that all her stuff is kept neatly together). She'll jump up at the container as if she could penetrate the plastic sides. I have to credit her for trying. She weighs all of 4 ounces but she thinks she weighs 50 pounds (as if). I needn't worry about her hiding under the couch or going missing. She's too much of a piggy and will eventually come out to be near her worm supply.

JT requested that I videotape Stephie eating, so I did.
Warning, do not watch if you are squeamish or feel you need to protect the rights of silkworms, as several silkworms were harmed during the filming of this video. No dragons were harmed, however, and really...that's all that matters:

About mid afternoon, I snuck out for a quick ride on Nellie in my canyons. Stupid weathermen got it wrong, again, and it didn't rain all day! I could have ridden this morning but I feared rain and the clouds did threaten to unload at times. I only rode for 1.5 hours, but I spent most of that climbing. I huffed it up Woodcliff Ave. to Mulholland Drive, which is a brutally steep climb but so worth it once you're up it. Lots of traffic on that street, though, which is the only downfall. I get angry when I'm trying just to stay upright on my bike and cars are passing me with their nasty fumes.

Some pics from the ride with our dramatic afternoon skies.

Tomorrow is a long ride with the group. Can't wait! I need a long ride to continue clearing it all out. I hope the skies are blue and the roads dry tomorrow.

day two

First off, to all of you sweet folks who left such kind comments yesterday - thank you. Your words mean a great deal and helped boost my mood!

It's day two of my being currently unemployed. I won't lie (why bother?). I drank a bottle of wine last night. I blew my WW points doing that, but oddly, I'm not the least bit hungover today (well, okay, I also drank two quarts of water with the wine). I got it out of my system. I didn't wallow, or cry...I just thought through my situation and then I went to bed in the clothes I was wearing, passed out and promptly woke up at 2:00am. I then tossed and turned, and thought and tossed, tip-toed (so as not to wake the dragon) into my living room and turned on the boobtube. Infomercial heaven!

I finally fell back to sleep at 4:00am only to wake at 5:00am as that would be my normal routine. But I remembered something. I don't gots to get up and go to work! So, I slept in until 6:00am. I know...so very decadent to sleep in all of one hour later.

It's raining today and if it wasn't, I would ride my bike (but, of course). As it is, I will hit the gym today (I didn't yesterday, but come on, I get one day to just 'freeze'). I'm surprisingly calm today and in a really good mood. All that thinking yesterday got me focused on the job at hand (no pun intended). It also helped me find perspective (and I'm sure I'll discover more as time passes). But just one day after being laid off, I've designed my personal Pros and Cons list.

CONS:
1. I lost my job.
2. I'll have to pay for my own health benefits once Cobra runs out (if not employed by then).
3. I'll truly miss three people from my ex-company.
4. I don't have free access to park in the lot where my gym is anymore.
5. I will likely not eat at Carousel Restaurant again (damn, this one hurts)
6. No more free gift cards to send home to the folks.

PROS:
1. I have all my finances in order and have ZERO debt, which means I can, ostensibly, get by on unemployment if I had too (of course, I hope to be gainfully employed sooner rather than later).
2. I have time to completely straighten up my life (clean out the 'black hole' closets and my car)
3. I can now consider other options and think outside the box of what I want to do and where I want to work (yes, I realize the market sucks right now, but I'm a 'glass half full' optimist!).
4. I thought I owed taxes but I don't! I'm getting a refund (not a big one by any means, but it's better than owing!)
5. I have a gym in my neighborhood to go to and I'm paid up for three years, so no extra costs to go pump iron. Maybe I'll whip my butt into super shape and become a pro body builder...but then again, maybe not.
6. I have more time to ride my bike (once it stops raining!)
7. I have more time to ride my bike.
8. I have more time to ride my bike.
9. Do I really need to continue?...



I have to type my resume up again (dumbass here left the soft copy of my resume on my laptop at work that I used as my laptop at home - which the company was fine with since they encouraged employees to take their laptops home for security reasons). Once I get that typed (which I plan to do today), I'm going to submit it to a temp agency and check out what's out there. I'm going to target my searches in the area I live and Burbank, out to Woodland Hills. If I could get employed closer to home, I would commute by bike for sure! That would be fantastic.

Okay, day two...much better than day one, for sure. Onward forward!

on my feet, just like a cat

I had prepared a blog entry on my ride last night early this morning. I had planned to finish it at lunchtime. However, the universe had a different plan for me today.

At 10:45am, the Controller of my company (a man I greatly respect who was visibly pained beyond belief) approached my desk. I could tell from looking at him that his palms were clammy sweaty. "M.E. I need to see you. Can you come with me to the third floor to meet with [name of HR representative]?"

I saved the PowerPoint presentation I was working on and took a deep breath. I sat for one final moment, completely still. I knew this would be the last time I'd sit in that chair at this company for which I had worked the last five years to the best of my ability.

I sighed. The Controller wouldn't look me in the eyes. I knew how awful this was for him, so I decided to stand up and follow him without further ado.

As we stepped into the elevator, I turned to a man I'd had so many conversations with, whom I'd supported, cajoled and cheered, and asked, "Is this good news or bad news?" He needn't have answered.

"Let's wait until we get into the room with [name of HR representative]," he replied, while wringing his hands.

Fair enough. He was clearly beyond stressed and I worried for him. He's been filling in for the boss I've been missing for the past six months. He's aged. He's been taxed and stretched beyond what he'd ever been hired for initially.

As I stepped into the conference room that my now ex-company will use to 'let go' of many employees today, I sucked in stale, office air and reminded myself...'this too shall pass.'

I was laid off today. Why, I'm not sure, considering the company is but a few weeks shy of hiring the boss I'd support. I've not had as much to do in the last few months, but at no fault of my own. and as they said today, 'this has nothing to do with your [my] work performance.' It's something to consider and hopefully outside counsel can help me with that - that's all I will say on the subject.

But as for what I'm experiencing now?

Shock, grief, worry, fear, more shock...relief. Yeah, relief. I hated it there. I've hated it there for over two years. I was subject to abuse, subject to hostility and quite honestly, under-utilized. Am I too big for my britches? No. I know my talents and abilities and I know the service I provided that company for five years. They are worse off losing the type of talented employee I am. The issue was more that I spoke up - which oddly saved me for that last six months -and that I've been boss-less and at a salary I'm sure they could see cutting and then replacing (at 20% lower) in the future. I've been a sitting duck. It would be a lie to say that I didn't see this coming.

I'm proud to report that I didn't cry. I wanted to. I wanted to sob. I was hurting so badly that I thought I'd puke right on the navy blazer of the HR representative who showed zero compassion (bitch). Puking on her blazer would have been acceptable but crying?....not.so.much. I'm stronger than that and really, crying is useless. I will say, the Controller and two other employees (one being in HR, herself) were beyond compassionate and so obviously upset that I wanted to put my arms around them and hug them... to comfort them.

In the meantime, my sweet, ever loving parents have provided me with such kindness and support. I cried, but only on my mother's shoulders. Thank goodness she's here on a crappy shitty day like this. For that I'm beyond grateful.

And thank goodness for my sweet father. He right away sprung into action, ordering me a laptop (for which I'm determined to pay him back). They both have reassured me that I'm fine. I am. I have at least six months cushion and I'm going to apply for unemployment (for the first time in my life). I'm also a survivor, always have been, and I hope to be employed within a month.

But for now, fresh from the sting, the bewilderment and...well...the letting go of a place I've been, miserable or not, for five years, is still smarting.

I can't say that I didn't see this coming. My only hope is that I'll land on my feet, just like a cat, and move on to a better future.

weighty whatever...this country is whack

I am not a fan of Jessica Simpson. I couldn't even name one of her songs, and the only trivia I can recall about her was that a few years back, she (over)acted the part of a dumb blond on some reality show, costarring with some guy she married and divorced within a year or two (Nick?). There was some mention of tuna fish, Chicken of the Sea, and her looking into camera with her delicate forehead furrowed in confusion. I also know she has a sister who got a nose job and lip synced some pop song in a live television performance, during which the track skipped and she walked off stage in a huff. Or, maybe that was Jessica Simpson who did that and not her sister? Hell if I know.

Seriously, I'm clueless as to what the interest is in this particular celebrity. There are far prettier, more talented celebs to go tearing apart in the news (note, I did not say 'tabloids' as for some gawddim reason, Jessica Simpson is in the mainstream news every single frickin' day of late). And more importantly, who the hell cares if she's fat or not?

I don't.

And really, I don't see the fat:


(click on video to play)


If that's fat, then I'm a gawddim whale...beached, bloated, ready to be hauled off and boiled. Since when is a size 6 fat? That's my goal size, by the way, which is one pant size less than what I'm wearing now (okay, I really want to be a size 4, but I'll settle for a 6...gleefully). Yeah, so she wore an atrocious outfit that makes her look thick in the middle and maybe her arms are lacking tone, but I can promise you, 90% of my company has thicker, jigglier examples waddling around all day long - me being one of them. So, give the woman a break.

Or better yet, stop reporting on her altogether (I'm ranting to the news media here) and find something, anything more newsworthy than the sudden extra padding on a celebrity's ass. Every news program I turn on (granted that's like all of two), I hear about Jessica Simpson's 'fat battle,' 'shocking weight gain' and 'full-figured, plus-sized transformation' as if another plane has been hijacked and our country is under siege. Oh.My.God. Whatever shall we do? Jessica Simpson's ass doesn't fit in her daisy dukes no mo'!

Ugh.

Women in this society are simultaneously applauded and reprimanded for being thin/not thin enough/too thin. The notion of a size 0 being the new beauty norm is nothing new or earth-shattering, but the realization that even now, in 2009, with a new administration in office trying desperately to fix our sinking economy, people losing their jobs and homes, and the Middle East still simmering with the prospect of escalated violence, this "celebrity gets fat' shit is even worth mentioning is downright appalling. Yeah, I know, I'm blogging (ranting) about it and thus bringing it to mention myself. But as a woman living in this country, I guess seeing this stupid video above (from NBC LA News online) finally hit one too many nerves.

Sadly, millions of teenage girls and little girls (ones who've not yet developed breasts or hips) will see all of this nonsense, and you better believe they will judge themselves based on how they stack up to Jessica Simpson. I know I did, only it was Farrah Fawcett. I've never been anywhere near as thin as that actress was when she was an Angel on the original Charlie's Angels series, even when I was eight years old!
No one told me I had to be as thin as her, but seeing her on television, I wanted to be her and look like her. I remember how hard I was on myself for not looking like her when I threw on a tank top and pair of short-shorts. I knew I didn't measure up to the images I saw of Ms. Fawcett. I can't even imagine what girls in this decade go through with the barrage of actress/models/performers/Paris-Hilton-ho images out there, and I personally find that heartbreaking.

I think Jessica Simpson looks just fine, just fine.

My only criticisms are that she might want to work out more (mainly for tone and health) and that she needs to drastically improve both her fashion sense and her dance moves. I couldn't tell you if she can sing or not as I can't listen to that garbage she's singing to, but judging from the video, she can't dance worth crap. And that outfit? Well...it speaks for itself.

averted

Many years ago when I was still delighted by incense, crystals and the thought of astro-planes (yes, I went through that stage, but I never bought a bong and sat around stoned wearing Birkenstocks and beads), I bought this book about the 'journey of the collective soul.' I don't remember the exact title of the book, nor would I recommend it, but something I recall that had a lasting impression on me was the chapter on coincidences. According to the author of that book, we should never resent obstacles in our paths. During the times in which we are held-up by others, whether in traffic by a slow driver or in the checkout line behind an elderly customer, we shouldn't feel frustration and, instead, cool our heels - these minor delays are, in fact, the universe's way of keeping us from some harm that we are not meant to suffer.

In other words, those few minutes in which you are delayed could hold the very moment where your automobile would have been struck by a train or your head hit by a stray bullet had you not had any hurdle to jump on your path. It's the 'there are no coincidences' school of thought that, although I don't I buy it 100%, does make me stop and think. Along those same lines, whose to say that you can't do the opposite and speed up the minutes along your path to avert disaster as well? You know, somehow be ahead of the calamity that awaits you?


I have reason to ponder this today.

Determined to get a solid leg workout in this morning, I set the alarm clock for 4:45am last night. I awoke at 4:30am. Not sure why, but I felt rested anyway, so I got up to dress for the gym. I then waffled, considered riding Nellie in my canyons instead, and promptly jumped right back under the covers. Something tickled at me, urging me to get my butt out of bed, so within five minutes of shutting out the lights, I was again up and attempting to dress for the gym. Half dressed, I putzed around, turning Stephie's UVA lamp on, making her a salad (romaine and strawberries - I'll be curious to see if she'll eat the berries), feeding her some worms and providing fresh water. As I was doing so, again something, a feeling perhaps, poked me this time, right in the gut. I needed to get a move on, really get a move on...although, why, I wasn't sure.

I was finally dressed with my car packed and ready to hit the road at 6:15am, well within my time frame for a solid workout. Still, I felt as if I had to make some deadline, so as I drove down Ventura Blvd., I toyed with the idea of forgoing my Starbucks stop. I've now been treating myself to a Starbucks' drip coffee on the mornings I get up for the gym. It's like an incentive for me to get up and I hate to skip it when in a hurry. I had plenty of time to stop this morning and would normally not have hesitated except for my nagging gut, insisting I hurry up. 'Screw it,' I thought. 'I'm getting my coffee. I've earned it for getting up so damn early.' So, I swung by my local shop.

It was here while standing by the creamer/sugar stand that a nice looking man approached and began talking to me. He was cute-cute, well-built with a nice smile and wearing a baseball cap (I love baseball caps on men, almost as much as I love helmets on them). He teased me that he felt guilty ordering a donut while I was clearly headed to the gym. I smiled back, trying to look fetching, and told him I was envious and that it must be nice being male. He laughed and started to tell me some joke, when, bam...my gut bit me, hard - you've got to go! I barely heard his joke as I was puzzled by my intuition and ended up laughing a little too enthusiastically at the punch line. Embarrassed, I wished him a good day and darted out of the shop and to my car (I should have asked for his number, but being a southern belle at heart, I didn't have the courage).

It was after I had driven off from Starbucks and had hopped onto the 101 Freeway in the direction of my gym that I noticed my fuel warning light. Damnit...I had forgotten to stop for gas, and my tank was too low to risk driving the car any farther. I pulled off the freeway at the next exit and swung into Chevron. Now, I was truly troubled. I felt I'd messed up, badly. It takes only five minutes to stop for gas, what was the big deal? I couldn't have told you what or why, but I felt something was terribly wrong. I filled my tank and returned to the freeway on-ramp.

Here is where I accept that no one will believe what happened next, especially with my having admitted fretting beforehand, but it's the truth and something I'd swear on my life about...literally.

As I sped up into morning traffic and began merging into the left lanes (trying to work myself over to the farthest left so that I could speed), I was suddenly aware of how many cars were making lane changes, quickly and in an erratic manner. This made me nervous and extra cautious (thank goodness). As I merged into the second farthest lane to the left, I checked in my side rear-view mirror to the left. Clear. I tapped my turn signal and entered the lane fully. Just as I did, every car in front of me (I could see the backs of at least five cars in the lane) slammed their brakes. I hit mine, my grip tightening on the steering wheel, elbows locking. My stomach lurched and I held on with everything I had, the tires beneath me slipping slightly in their fight to stay connected to the asphalt beneath them. Thankfully, I was able to come to a complete halt within a foot or so of the now stopped vehicle in front of me.



But as this was all occurring, I had focused my eyes up to the rear view mirror. There, flying at a speed that I could not imagine could be daunted by even the best set of high-powered brakes, was a large, white SUV (it looked like one of those Escalades that's four feet up off the ground). In that brief moment that felt like an hour, I had these thoughts, 'he's not going to stop...I have a full tank of gas...where do I go?...shit' As the SUV approached even faster (it seemed), I could clearly see the driver, arms straight out, elbows locked and knuckles tightened around his steering wheel. He too was struggling just as I had but a brief few seconds before him. My heart was pounding and I heard a ringing in my ears.

Oh, yes, I would like to thank the Powers of Be this morning. That SUV stopped within an inch or two of my back bumper and in fact may have even tapped it (I felt something, but it could have been my stomach falling out from beneath me). I could see the driver's face clearly, and he looked as if he'd soiled his tightie-whities. I can't blame him. Had my anal sphincter not been clenched so tightly, I'd have done the same. As I sat in this stalled traffic sniffing air tinted with burnt rubber, shaking from my body's adrenaline release, I swear I felt the tips of some imaginary claws just lightly scratching the back of my neck, seeping down my shoulders and melting out through my car seats and back windshield. The ringing in my ears was now intensified. (The cars had all slammed their brakes due to fender-bender where another driver was not as lucky as I had been.)

I knew. One moment sooner and my morning would have been an entirely different one than it is now as I sit here typing this.

Would my car have exploded in a dramatic display of flame and gas, me tragically burnt alive? I don't know and, gosh, I hope not. But something would have happened, even if it had just been a smashed vehicle and the headache of dealing with a car accident. Regardless, whatever 'it' was, I somehow averted it. And honestly, as kooky as this sounds, I think some other forces were at play today, trying in some cosmic random act of kindness to keep me from catastrophe. I was not in the mood to die this morning, nor would I have enjoyed injury. And you better bet, this close-call made me think. Intuition is a very strong, innate inner voice that all of us should heed. If anything, I should have listened to that nervous voice in my head and my clenching gut when I noticed the erratic traffic on the freeway...and I should have slowed the hell down, staying out of the faster lanes until I needed to move over for the 134 interchange.

Good news (besides the obvious), my workout was fantastic. The adrenaline fueled me and I did eight sets of plyometrics (I normally can only stand four). I was on fire with my weights and I felt buzzed, alive and very, very grateful to be in the gym looking out the windows at the mountain range in the distance, the sun glowing off its side. Life is sweet.

Oh, and I dropped another pound. That makes three pounds in two weeks - even with my milkshake splurge on Sunday! Weight Watchers works! That's 1.5 pds/week and a perfectly healthy loss. I'm hoping for a 2pd drop next week for an even five pounds. Five pounds is just five shy of ten, which is just ten shy of 20 - I think you get it. While standing on the scale, butt naked, I did the mini-clap, giggling, with the other women in the locker room trying to ignore me. Hey, I had every right to applaud, not only for the weight loss, but for being given another lovely day to contend with.

Thank goodness.

milkshake hangover

Normally, I'm a healthy eater (yes, you may interpret that a couple of ways). Even when I over-consume, I tend to only scarf healthy, all natural, fiber-filled and low-fat food items...generally. Then there are the times when I say 'f' it, pass the Lays Salt 'n Vinegar chips and Ranch Extra Creamy dip, please.' Even when I'm dieting (or because of), I can have these sudden urges to rebelliously nosh hit me, over which I will exert zero control or willpower.

These moments of weakness are 'the pudge's' chance to deliver a one-two knock-out in the ring. 'The pudge' is gloating today for sure, probably more than any Steeler fan is. Why? Because, yesterday afternoon I had one of these exact...um...rare moments of excess, and I'm now paying for it. Only it wasn't chips n' dip that I stuffed down my gullet, it was a ginormous chocolate milkshake from Fatburger. Oh, but I was a good girl who ordered and consumed a turkey burger without cheese or mayo just before hitting the shake straw. Aren't I the disciplined one? Needless to say, I was well over my Weight Watchers points for last week (hear that applause? That's 'the pudge' clapping feverishly and doing the hip-swiveling, elbow rocking victory dance). Whatever...as goes the Weight Watchers motto, I'm going to 'treat it like a vegetable and move on.'

<

I was invited to three separate Super Bowl parties and attended none. I hate Super Bowl as I detest the sport of football with a passion and really, SB Sunday is just an excuse to pig out and guzzle beer. Admit it. If you attended a SB party yesterday, you stuffed your face (likely licking all the salty grease off of your little dirty fingers, too, didn't you?) and knocked back either beers or some other alcoholic beverages of choice (really though, do martinis go with chicken wings, suasage bites and chips?). I'm not faulting you or the millions of other Americans who celebrate this annual ritual, I just want no part of it. Instead, I was determined to be a self-righteous dieter, healthy and solid in my conviction to not be a little piggy. Yeah...that lasted until all of 4:30pm before the 'f' it...' hit me.



Now the secret is out. I'm not as 'good' and 'virtuous' as I claim to be (yeah, duh...if you didn't guess that already, you really are gullible). However, I have good news to report in connection to my non-Super-Bowl-Sunday pig out - it has left me feeling like a pickled, pregnant dairy goat (remember, I weigh as much as a small dairy goat at present). I feel hungover from cream and sugar, and the reason I feel this way is that I don't normally consume it. The closest I ever get to ice cream is either non-fat yogurt or a Weight Watchers 1 point Mocha Bar (which is not ice cream, it's Monosudoglucioxide & Brown Dye #45). I'm just not use to full on chocolate, cream, (evil) sugar & milk blended into a rich, frothy goodness then piled with a cup of whipped cream (oh, come on...if I was going to have the shake, I might as well have had the whipped cream!). It was so damn good going down...and so damn awful sitting in my gurgling stomach at midnight.

I tossed and turned all night, wishing I could stick my finger down my throat, but I'm one of those girls who could never stand that and thereby (fortunately) skipped the bulimia trend train. If I binge, my only hope of purging is through massive exercise (not happening today - just a little workout at the gym). So, I was (and am) stuck with the consequences. I'll not be doing that again anytime in the near future, and today I'm perfectly regimented on my Weight Watchers Point System. I was on the Core plan (which doesn't really exist anymore; neither does the Points plan - it's all Momentum Plan now, which is just so stupid on WW's part), but I've switched back to tracking points (which is harder, in my opinion). I'm punishing myself for being so ridiculously self destructive and for no damn good reason. I rode really hard and pushed myself this weekend and might have actually dropped a whole 1/4 of a pound had I not eaten that burger and shake. Dumbass (that's me saying that to me and not to you, the reader).

On another topic, I'm procrastinating at this moment. I should be typing up my self-performance appraisal, which is due this Friday. But every time I open the appraisal form, I quickly find something else to do. My avoidance tactics are in part motivated by a mixture of apprehension and confusion. How the hell can I appraise myself when for almost six months now, I've been sitting here doing very little of what I'm use to doing. It's not that I have nothing to do, since I do have little projects to work on and tons of busy work (which I frickin' despise). But I am in no way performing the kind of job tasks I'm use to handling/completing nor am working at a level even I find acceptable. This isn't my fault. I can't just create a boss to support out of thin air and pretend to support him/her to the level I was, and my company would likely view me as mentally unstable if I did (I mean, really, talking to oneself is one thing, talking to a pretend boss is another). So, instead, I'm stretching anything and everything I have to do out as long as possible to sustain a level of looking and feeling busy (and useful), which is counter intuitive to how I normally work. I'm fast, extremely competent and need little direction; I don't take days to complete a project! But for the last six months, I've been working at the level of a sub par temp, one that even I wouldn't recommend hiring, and how the hell do I appraise that honestly?



I can answer that...I won't. I'll lie and write that I'm the best damn employee there is. I'm not stupid and, really, if I had a boss here, I would be doing my best (or at least I'd try to). So, I'm going to have to blow smoke first up my own ass and then up the ass of whomever might actually read my self performance appraisal. And that's the other issue. There really isn't anyone here who can appraise my work performance fairly given that I'm not supporting anyone at the level I have and will when I'm supporting a new CFO (hopefully we will get one soon).

Sigh.

Perhaps I'll wait for the sugar hangover to pass before I attempt any said appraisal (see? - procrastination at its finest!). Right now, I'm too pinched and puffy in the head (among other places) to focus. I wish I knew a good sugar hangover cure. I've been drinking glass after glass of water, hoping to flush my system, but I'm not sure that's the trick to use. I definitely am not trying the 'hair of the dog that bit you' remedy. There is one lone cupcake in the break room (there were 12, but 11 were gobbled by my fellow coworkers within minutes of being discovered) that on a normal day would be taunting (and torturing) me. I love Yummy's cupcakes, but I was resolved enough to pass it by without so much as a finger swipe of the icing. Now, that's discipline right there! Never mind the 1,500 calories I consumed after 5:00pm yesterday, I avoided a cupcake.

Yup...I'm back on track.

1 BR & BA, Crack Ridin'

Herb turned to me today on our recovery ride and said, "that sign back there read '1 BR & BA'."

I snorted and replied, "What the hell kind of sexual favor is that?"

It was a sign for a one bedroom, one bath apartment in Los Feliz, but clearly my mind went to a whole different level, somewhere near the gutter, and on a Sunday morning at that...tsk tsk. But what can one think when riding through the urban vicinage of LA? Los Feliz and the adjacent neighborhoods are truly eclectic and you never know what you'll find on any street corner, even at 9:00am on a Sunday morning. I love riding up and through that neighborhood on a weekend when there is little traffic - any other time and cyclists braving those busy streets are playing Russian Roulette with their life and limbs.

(click on photos to enlarge)


Herb, Mark, Jason, Lisa and I met in Burbank and took off on our usual route, but Herb wanted to head up into Los Feliz. We have all ridden this route and all like it. It's different for sure, and there are a couple of good climbs thrown in to wake you up. The only obstacles to avoid on this ride are the enormous cracks in the crappy concrete this city put down to cover the roads. Some cracks are fissures, so wide and debris filled, that if a slick were to hit it at the wrong angle, you're ass over head on the ground in no time. We've all been through this hood before, so no one suffered a mishap. I kept teasing Herb that this was his 'Crack Ride.' I also kept telling him how much I really loved the ride today as well. And I did.

We had perfect weather, pretty much the same as yesterday, and oddly, my legs felt great today even after performing for 71 miles yesterday. I was able to push on the climbs and found myself doing better than I have in awhile. I'm desperate to get my old shape back, including the ability to ride the kind of crazy climbing rides I use to without feeling dreadful after. It was funny yesterday at lunch. Francis saw me spear one of the potatoes he'd left in his soup bowl and commented, "hey...remember, you need to be thin by December." Francis is the one and only person who could get away with saying that to me without losing his two front teeth. But I did tell him that I'm determined to ride TDF this year so I have to focus on getting to the level of shape where I can ride...and finish it. Today, I can say with certainty that I worked off that lone potato!

Here are more pics of our urban route: (click)