I just woke up from a nap, not a long one, but a blissfully dreamless one. I'm on my couch and I had the french doors open, so I could hear the neighborhood bustle in the distance, car motors, children laughing, the chiming of my favorite wind chime (it's one that my ex neighbor and friend gave me, hanging just out on my balcony, that annoys another neighbor here whom no one likes - who in the hell finds a wind chime annoying??). I was out solid for a 1/2 hour and when I opened my eyes, my lizard was staring at me from her terrarium. She wasn't giving me the stink eye, it was more like an 'oh...isn't that thing kinda cute' look instead. I rode to the cricket shop today to fetch her breakfast, lunch, dinner and snacks for the week, so that's the reason for the love (I'm assuming).
Once I rubbed the 'just napped groggy' from my eyes, I turned on the news (shocker, huh?) and the report being aired was one on how insomnia not only affects one's physical health but recent studies have revealed that it has also contributed to the increasing rate of suicide deaths in this country of late. How incredibly topical and ironic that I should see this report. It was just this morning that I was mulling over the topic of suicide and how, lately, it seems to be on the rise. I've discovered a wonderful blog, FiredforNow, and the entry today was on that very subject. Insomnia and suicide go hand in hand with this country's recession and jobless rate, which will no doubt continue to rise before a recovery begins, and although the news reporter didn't correlate the two (insomnia and unemployment), it doesn't take a genius to figure out what was being suggested...the state of the economy is in part the reason for the recent spike in suicide deaths.
Losing one's job can lead to despair for many, especially those with families. I've been lucky, I suppose, in that I don't have any dependents whose lives are being altered by my not being employed. It's just me, living well within my means, and with the support of my loving friends and family, I'm really not experiencing the amped anxiety level that many others are experiencing. This does not mean that I'm not anxious or haven't had my share of sleepless nights (hello? last week I went for three nights without rest).
I also have my share of doubts about my future and concern over where I will be employed next. I've been in a bit of a tail spin, trying to figure out my own identity and worth as they relate to what I want to do versus what I must do to just survive. This dilemma is nothing new nor might it prove inspiring to anyone...but me. However, unlike what I'm told I should be experiencing after being laid off, I am most certainly not in a state of grieving (hell, I smile every time I even think of my former company and realize that I'm not sitting there for five days, 40+ hours a week anymore). I'm not depressed and other than normal feelings connected to losing one's job, I'm pretty much even keel.
Therefore, it is so difficult for me to understand why anyone would kill him/herself over the loss of a job. I just can't relate. A job does not define anyone and the majority of us work to support our real lives, away from work doing what we love to do. That's the norm in this country and other than those very fortunate souls who truly love their jobs, most of us lament our state of 'having to go to work' more than we ever celebrate it. Sure, we love to report to others that we landed a great (high paying) job at a great (stable with good benefits) company with great (perceived) opportunities to advance. But do we really love the job itself? Do we get up in the morning and whistle "Hi Ho, Hi Ho, it's off to work I go?" No. Most of us do nothing of the sort, and in the many years that I've two-stepped the corporate line-dance, I've yet to meet a CEO, President, CFO, COO, CMO, Chairman, executive, manager, director, assistant, receptionist, IT specialist, counselor, analyst, etc. who has truly loved what they do and who reported to work with an insane excitement to be there.
No, it isn't the job we fear losing, it's our fragile (and delusional) sense of security we cling to most. I know speaking for myself that nothing could be truer. I just want to believe that I'm secure with the roof I have over my head, with health insurance (the biggest scam of all) and the ability to ride my bike and live my life whenever I'm not at work. That in a nutshell defines what my state of being was for the last 5.5 years. I wasn't excited about my position and over time, rarely challenged. I liked my job for the first 3 years as the stress was manageable and some of my coworkers inspiring. But for the last 2.5 years, I was overworked, stressed out and a walking infomercial for Ginseng supplements. The only time I was happy was when I left work for the day to either go ride my bike or just...go. Sad to admit, but I'm honest, that's the truth, and I bet I'm just one of many who feel/have felt the exact same way. Unless you truly enjoy what you do (which is much more a commodity than a high salary), you likely work to support whatever life you are in fear of losing.
I've learned so far in this process of being unemployed that the 'false sense of security' I felt while still employed is not what sustains me in the least. I've also had to swallow the realization that no one is truly secure and anyone can lose everything they have in a blink of an eye...and then gain it all or something much more meaningful back again. Nothing is solid, secure, grounded or permanent. Everything in this world is in a tenuous state at all times, including our privilege to just wake up in the morning. If we all lived with an absolute acceptance of that truism, we might choose to live our lives less unsatisfied for what we don't have, not clinging to what we do and no longer willing to stay in jobs we hate to just maintain it all. What we do have is really just the opportunity to open our eyes and take another breath each day, and anything beyond that is gravy.
I say all this to try and explain why I believe suicide, especially in response to the loss of a job (or a home, even - a house really is just a house) is so incredibly selfish. I don't mean selfish in the traditional sense. I mean it more as selfish to choose an option that ends all possibilities and opportunities, not only for the person who chooses to end his/her life but for those around that individual who loved him/her or depended on him/her. Suicide is a not an action so much as it is an act. It ends and that's it. In cases of terminal illness or tremendous suffering, suicide could be considered a final act and I don't refer to those cases. I'm speaking specifically of those who kill themselves due to a loss of security. What a tragic, horrific waste in all respects. The job you lose today could lead you to the job you land in six months. The house that goes into foreclosure could motivate you to move to a better neighborhood, a more connected community. The car that's repossessed could get you out from under those high payments. It's a job, a house, a car...it isn't you.
The only time we truly lose our security, ourselves, is when we no longer have the opportunity of a new day, of opening our eyes, taking another breath and making another choice. I'm still working through my many jumbled thoughts on this process I've found myself in...being unemployed. I'm sure I'll have many more frustrations, moments of doubt, fear, sadness, self questioning and anxiety. Hell, I may even lose some more sleep over it all. But I will not end my own life in despair. I just wish those who consider suicide an option (and an action) at this time of shared mass loss in our country (2.5+ million jobless!) to seek help and realize that they are not lost even if most everything around them seems to be.
March 31, 2009
March 30, 2009
Boo in a blanket
I may need help...professional help...at this point, cause I really find the oddest things funny.
Yes, I've been job hunting/searching/scrounging this morning (same jobs listed as last night at 8:00pm, funny how that works), just so you know. I have to report it or else I feel guilty and worry folks will think me a true bum. I'm not. I just so far haven't found a job...got a dollar you can spare? Anyway, I'm now going to jump off of this computer, shut it down and overhaul my messy apartment (yes, again). I hope to accomplish all the things I planned to do today.
One thing checked off the list as of my writing this? - Give Boo a bath. She has to be bathed twice a week so her skin will stay moisturized and as much as she hates it (she really does, too, and if there is ever a time she may actually bite me in the future, it will be while having to bathe), she gets placed (gently but not without struggle) into her 'jacuzzi' at least once a week (I'm a lazy FatHead some weeks and never get around to repeating this process a second time). Her 'jacuzzi' is this round Tupperware bowl (that I don't use for any other purpose, mind you) that I fill with warm water. I then tell her that I'm turning the sauna on, after which I hum as if there is a motor in the 'jacuzzi' and swirl the water around with my fingers like there's a tiny jet spray. Hey, no one sees or hears me do this but my lizard, so what's the harm in doing it?
After 15 minutes of this (if I can keep her in there that long; which again, is a struggle), I wrap her in a warm blanket (which is actually a hand towel just for her). Today, for some reason (here comes crazy dragon lady), I got so tickled just seeing her little head poking out of the blanket, I videotaped it. This is really for Julia as she'll likely be the only other soul who will find it as funny as I do (or not). If you don't, exit blog now and have a nice Monday!
My bearded dragon is now glaring at me with her beard half puffed up (her way of flipping me off) in her terrarium. She knows I'm bigger than her and that's not fair....but life's not fair. I tell her that everyday so as to manage her expectations. Heh heh.
Yes, I've been job hunting/searching/scrounging this morning (same jobs listed as last night at 8:00pm, funny how that works), just so you know. I have to report it or else I feel guilty and worry folks will think me a true bum. I'm not. I just so far haven't found a job...got a dollar you can spare? Anyway, I'm now going to jump off of this computer, shut it down and overhaul my messy apartment (yes, again). I hope to accomplish all the things I planned to do today.
One thing checked off the list as of my writing this? - Give Boo a bath. She has to be bathed twice a week so her skin will stay moisturized and as much as she hates it (she really does, too, and if there is ever a time she may actually bite me in the future, it will be while having to bathe), she gets placed (gently but not without struggle) into her 'jacuzzi' at least once a week (I'm a lazy FatHead some weeks and never get around to repeating this process a second time). Her 'jacuzzi' is this round Tupperware bowl (that I don't use for any other purpose, mind you) that I fill with warm water. I then tell her that I'm turning the sauna on, after which I hum as if there is a motor in the 'jacuzzi' and swirl the water around with my fingers like there's a tiny jet spray. Hey, no one sees or hears me do this but my lizard, so what's the harm in doing it?
After 15 minutes of this (if I can keep her in there that long; which again, is a struggle), I wrap her in a warm blanket (which is actually a hand towel just for her). Today, for some reason (here comes crazy dragon lady), I got so tickled just seeing her little head poking out of the blanket, I videotaped it. This is really for Julia as she'll likely be the only other soul who will find it as funny as I do (or not). If you don't, exit blog now and have a nice Monday!
My bearded dragon is now glaring at me with her beard half puffed up (her way of flipping me off) in her terrarium. She knows I'm bigger than her and that's not fair....but life's not fair. I tell her that everyday so as to manage her expectations. Heh heh.
March 29, 2009
the lobster train
Good grief, this was a packed weekend! Work is going to be so miserable tomorrow...oh, wait...I don't have to go to work tomorrow. Heh heh. Hey, I may have lost my job but I didn't lose my sense of humor.
Any ol' how, as I was saying, this weekend was filled! Yesterday's ride knackered me out and I slept solid last night, only to rise when my alarm clock squealed at 6:00am. I was slow moving to get dressed but I made it in time anyway to The Lobsters' curb, where we (Herb, Tom, Jason, Lisa and I) planned to meet at 9:00am. I was right on time, although I had originally planned to ride over from The Hub (Herbie had to ride those four miles solo). I didn't factor in the time to feed my dragon this morning and I couldn't leave Boo hungry. Therefore, the ten minutes extra that I needed to drive to Herb's place was taken up by my sacrificing the lives of ten Superworms with a pair of silver tongs to a little reptile mouth. I did, however, make it in time to clip in and depart from The Lobsters' street, pulling out under chilly, overcast skies with the gang.
It was cold most of the day today, but fortunately I'd layered perfectly with Capri's, shorts, vest, jersey and arm warmers. In fact, I had on my favorite, worn-to-hell shorts, the ones everyone makes fun of. I love them, and they'll need to disintegrate before I'll part with them. Although I never peeled off a layer today, I sweated plenty, mostly from the hammering that took place in the beginning of the ride. I drove some of that fast pace myself, so I can't whine about it, but I could feel the fatigue in my quads for most of the morning and just had to push through it.
The group was well matched. I missed The Lobsters yesterday as they bring an attitude and dynamic to the group that spices it up a bit. Lisa has a sharp sense of humor and often hands my ass to me (in jest). Jason likes to make fun of himself and has that relaxed goofiness only confident type's have, perfectly matched with his wife's wit. Tom is a mellow guy himself and always happy to just be out riding, and Herb is, well, Herbie. He's a doll and puts up with me and today was no different. Although, he and I were tired! We would remind each other of that before taking off on another full-steam-ahead sprint.
Our plan was to ride from Burbank to Corner Bakery in Woodland Hills. It's 31 miles RT from The Lobsters' place, almost all flat miles, making for a perfect recovery ride. By the time we'd hit the bike path in Encino, the lactic acid in my leg muscles was evaporating, and I was beginning to buzz. I love these kinds of rides as I know that if I just put push the pedal and hoof it, the payoff will come (generally). I also knew a warm cup of coffee and half a sandwich (Herb always splits with me) were waiting. We arrived at Corner Bakery within an hour and a half, give or take, of departing Burbank and were, in no time, sitting on the patio sipping our warm drinks and cracking jokes.
After our break, it was a solid pace back into headwinds (at times) and cooler temps (that or the coffee had warmed our blood, not sure which). We then formed a paceline that Tom coined 'the Lobster train.' Lisa, the Draft-Ho, and I, the Lying-Sack-a-Ho, hung onto the train from the rear. We kept teasing the men that they were dropping the ho's. Yup...on a Sunday, too - talking about ho's and all! We should have all ridden to church, I suppose, but we stuck to our faithful route. By the time we'd turned back on TujungaAve. in Burbank, I was actually sad the ride was ending. I love this 'coffee run' we do for recovery and today, in particular, appealed to me.
Back at The Lobsters' curb, we all hugged and discussed our ride plans for next Saturday. I'm looking forward to whatever ride we choose as the antics will be the same...always are in this dynamic group. Of course, we'll likely have The Colonel along and a few other characters to mix up things, but it will be a good ride, no doubt. As I drove back home, I wore a wide grin of enjoyment and I was thankful I joined the ride today.
When I got home, it was - pet Boo, shower, dress and then a drive to the Westside to meet my sweet friend Nancy (Nanny). We'd agreed to forgo a hike today (that I did not have the legs for) and meet for pedicures and coffee instead. We ended up with frozen yogurt at the Big Chill (a favorite haunt of mine from years ago!) and over a long talk, we got our nails painted at the local nail shop (across the street from the yogurt place). My toenails were hideous before now, so much so that when I looked down at them the other night, I was repulsed! Not anymore...they're sexy hot now...and feminine. Oh, it feels so good to be girly-girl from time-to-time and to see my sweet friend.
Nanny and I plan to ride mtn bikes from Malibu to Manhattan Beach next Sunday. We use to do that years ago (but on rented beach cruisers back then) and I can't wait to do it again!
Great weekend for sure, although I have to call my folks first thing tomorrow morning as that's the one thing I missed doing this weekend. Sigh...can't do it all, I guess.
(turn off Tunes on Sidebar to hear the videos)
Any ol' how, as I was saying, this weekend was filled! Yesterday's ride knackered me out and I slept solid last night, only to rise when my alarm clock squealed at 6:00am. I was slow moving to get dressed but I made it in time anyway to The Lobsters' curb, where we (Herb, Tom, Jason, Lisa and I) planned to meet at 9:00am. I was right on time, although I had originally planned to ride over from The Hub (Herbie had to ride those four miles solo). I didn't factor in the time to feed my dragon this morning and I couldn't leave Boo hungry. Therefore, the ten minutes extra that I needed to drive to Herb's place was taken up by my sacrificing the lives of ten Superworms with a pair of silver tongs to a little reptile mouth. I did, however, make it in time to clip in and depart from The Lobsters' street, pulling out under chilly, overcast skies with the gang.
It was cold most of the day today, but fortunately I'd layered perfectly with Capri's, shorts, vest, jersey and arm warmers. In fact, I had on my favorite, worn-to-hell shorts, the ones everyone makes fun of. I love them, and they'll need to disintegrate before I'll part with them. Although I never peeled off a layer today, I sweated plenty, mostly from the hammering that took place in the beginning of the ride. I drove some of that fast pace myself, so I can't whine about it, but I could feel the fatigue in my quads for most of the morning and just had to push through it.
The group was well matched. I missed The Lobsters yesterday as they bring an attitude and dynamic to the group that spices it up a bit. Lisa has a sharp sense of humor and often hands my ass to me (in jest). Jason likes to make fun of himself and has that relaxed goofiness only confident type's have, perfectly matched with his wife's wit. Tom is a mellow guy himself and always happy to just be out riding, and Herb is, well, Herbie. He's a doll and puts up with me and today was no different. Although, he and I were tired! We would remind each other of that before taking off on another full-steam-ahead sprint.
Our plan was to ride from Burbank to Corner Bakery in Woodland Hills. It's 31 miles RT from The Lobsters' place, almost all flat miles, making for a perfect recovery ride. By the time we'd hit the bike path in Encino, the lactic acid in my leg muscles was evaporating, and I was beginning to buzz. I love these kinds of rides as I know that if I just put push the pedal and hoof it, the payoff will come (generally). I also knew a warm cup of coffee and half a sandwich (Herb always splits with me) were waiting. We arrived at Corner Bakery within an hour and a half, give or take, of departing Burbank and were, in no time, sitting on the patio sipping our warm drinks and cracking jokes.
After our break, it was a solid pace back into headwinds (at times) and cooler temps (that or the coffee had warmed our blood, not sure which). We then formed a paceline that Tom coined 'the Lobster train.' Lisa, the Draft-Ho, and I, the Lying-Sack-a-Ho, hung onto the train from the rear. We kept teasing the men that they were dropping the ho's. Yup...on a Sunday, too - talking about ho's and all! We should have all ridden to church, I suppose, but we stuck to our faithful route. By the time we'd turned back on TujungaAve. in Burbank, I was actually sad the ride was ending. I love this 'coffee run' we do for recovery and today, in particular, appealed to me.
Back at The Lobsters' curb, we all hugged and discussed our ride plans for next Saturday. I'm looking forward to whatever ride we choose as the antics will be the same...always are in this dynamic group. Of course, we'll likely have The Colonel along and a few other characters to mix up things, but it will be a good ride, no doubt. As I drove back home, I wore a wide grin of enjoyment and I was thankful I joined the ride today.
When I got home, it was - pet Boo, shower, dress and then a drive to the Westside to meet my sweet friend Nancy (Nanny). We'd agreed to forgo a hike today (that I did not have the legs for) and meet for pedicures and coffee instead. We ended up with frozen yogurt at the Big Chill (a favorite haunt of mine from years ago!) and over a long talk, we got our nails painted at the local nail shop (across the street from the yogurt place). My toenails were hideous before now, so much so that when I looked down at them the other night, I was repulsed! Not anymore...they're sexy hot now...and feminine. Oh, it feels so good to be girly-girl from time-to-time and to see my sweet friend.
Nanny and I plan to ride mtn bikes from Malibu to Manhattan Beach next Sunday. We use to do that years ago (but on rented beach cruisers back then) and I can't wait to do it again!
Great weekend for sure, although I have to call my folks first thing tomorrow morning as that's the one thing I missed doing this weekend. Sigh...can't do it all, I guess.
(turn off Tunes on Sidebar to hear the videos)
March 28, 2009
good friends and happy miles
Lucky for me, I don't got squat to do tonight, not that I'd dare make plans on an evening when I'm riding Ventura during the day. I'm not dumb. Ventura and the usual route the gang rides never dips below 60 miles and, like today, the mileage often ends up being just shy of 70 - with 3500 feet of climbing and few breaks (it's a tough crowd). But before I get to the ride today, let me give a quick summary of yesterday.
Yesterday, I helped a friend move - one I love or otherwise I'd been miserable. Problem with helping anyone move is that you have to set a time limit or else you're screwed. Case in point, I had hoped to spend no more than a couple of hours helping to move her furniture and boxes, or whatnot, and ended up moving stuff out in the hot sun for close to five hours. But I never truly said what my time limit was, so I can't blame her. I didn't get home until 7:00 last night and had little energy to even eat dinner before hitting the hay (nor did I feel like...gasp!...blogging). I'd worked out my upper body yesterday morning at the gym, combined with step-ups, and let's just say...I overdid it a tad. Again, I love the friend that I helped and really, from time to time, one must help another friend move. My friends have done the same for me. But whether one should do this the day before a 60+ mile ride is a whole other debate!
Did I bail this morning like I did last Saturday (even after being awakened at 2am by drunken bar hoppers stumbling home to get laid?) No. I dragged the buttage out from under my covers, dressed, prepped and HTFU'd! No way was I missing one of my favorite rides. Herb pulled into my driveway right at 7:15am, and with a little scrambling on my part, we were off and motoring along on the 101, driving north.
When we arrived, no one was in the parking lot yet, and the air smelled of raw sewage (ewww!). I nearly gagged and hoped that whatever was causing the stench would dissipate soon! Within a few minutes, Rebecca drove into the lot. She's this incredibly fit woman who happens to be a trainer and a mother, and she makes it all look good. I was thrilled to see her as I really like this fun, strong woman. Right away, she informed us that she could only ride 15 miles out along the route due to a commitment. I was touched that she came out at all and happy to have her along for any miles!
Next, Harvey, a friend of Herb's, pulled in the lot (on bike) followed by the Colonel and his friend, Steve (again, on bike). We had a great group (although we did miss The Lobsters today who couldn't make it). This was the first Ventura ride of the year (our standard route, anyway) and I was excited to snap a quick group photo and take off into the already comfortable breeze...which warmed to a perfect temp, neither too hot nor too cold, for the entire ride! We followed the course I've come to love so much (even the Ojai bike path where I bit it badly last year).
Our climbs for the day consisted of Casitas Pass (Rebecca said farewell just prior) and Mountain Ave. in Summerland. Casitas Pass is always the longest climb of the day but it's in the beginning of the ride, so I threw myself into it with as much power my legs could expend. My muscles were shot after yesterday for sure, and I was slightly disappointed in my climbing performance. But I figured I could recover when I'm dead, so why not go for it? I pushed myself all the way to the steepest part of the climb before the men caught (and dropped) me (granted, I had a tad bit of a head start, but not much). As I pedaled up that long hill, a lone, multi-colored butterfly landed on my shoulder. I looked at her and she at me for a good minute before she took flight again. At the top, as Herb and I waited for Harvey, another lone butterfly landed on Herb's shoulder. I told him that he and I had been blessed by the butterflies today...that or they thought we were cattle.
As we descended the other side of the Pass and pedaled into Summerland, I was beat and personally, I could have skipped any more climbing. But Herb (and the other men) were hill lusting today, so we headed up that pretty but painful street to Mountain Ave (Greenville?). The climbs we did in Summerland are on the Cool Breeze Century route, and I've done them so many times, I know what to expect. I threw my chain into the granny gear and spun as best I could. Harvey was suffering as well since he's not ridden much in the last month. So, as we crested the 'easier' part of Mountain and faced the 'toughest' grade of that road, The Colonel took pity on us and cut the climb short. We had a nice descent back down to the ocean and to Stacky's for lunch (yum, 1/2 a turkey sandwich and some onion rings - Herb and I share)
After lunch, we hit a solid pace back, enjoying the views along the 101 (but not the traffic whizzing by us within a few feet) and the last three miles were exhilarating. I'm always flying high once I hit the final bike path stretch along the ocean. As we pulled back into Ventura, Mark had his third flat of the day (time to change the tires!). We wished him and Steve farewell, Harvey too (back at the parking lot) and then Herb and I headed back on the 101 home.
It was on the drive back, listening to many favorite classic tunes full blast on Herb's stereo, him and me singing along as loud as we could, that I realized just how happy I was today. Herb had opened his sun roof and with the ocean breeze again kissing my cheeks, my miles for the day under my belt and my good friend singing the lyrics to People are Strange, I felt perfectly satisfied in the moment. Ventura and the Ventura Ride has that effect on a person...well, that and a day filled with good friends and happy miles.
(turn off the Tunes on the sidebar to hear videos)
Yesterday, I helped a friend move - one I love or otherwise I'd been miserable. Problem with helping anyone move is that you have to set a time limit or else you're screwed. Case in point, I had hoped to spend no more than a couple of hours helping to move her furniture and boxes, or whatnot, and ended up moving stuff out in the hot sun for close to five hours. But I never truly said what my time limit was, so I can't blame her. I didn't get home until 7:00 last night and had little energy to even eat dinner before hitting the hay (nor did I feel like...gasp!...blogging). I'd worked out my upper body yesterday morning at the gym, combined with step-ups, and let's just say...I overdid it a tad. Again, I love the friend that I helped and really, from time to time, one must help another friend move. My friends have done the same for me. But whether one should do this the day before a 60+ mile ride is a whole other debate!
Did I bail this morning like I did last Saturday (even after being awakened at 2am by drunken bar hoppers stumbling home to get laid?) No. I dragged the buttage out from under my covers, dressed, prepped and HTFU'd! No way was I missing one of my favorite rides. Herb pulled into my driveway right at 7:15am, and with a little scrambling on my part, we were off and motoring along on the 101, driving north.
When we arrived, no one was in the parking lot yet, and the air smelled of raw sewage (ewww!). I nearly gagged and hoped that whatever was causing the stench would dissipate soon! Within a few minutes, Rebecca drove into the lot. She's this incredibly fit woman who happens to be a trainer and a mother, and she makes it all look good. I was thrilled to see her as I really like this fun, strong woman. Right away, she informed us that she could only ride 15 miles out along the route due to a commitment. I was touched that she came out at all and happy to have her along for any miles!
Next, Harvey, a friend of Herb's, pulled in the lot (on bike) followed by the Colonel and his friend, Steve (again, on bike). We had a great group (although we did miss The Lobsters today who couldn't make it). This was the first Ventura ride of the year (our standard route, anyway) and I was excited to snap a quick group photo and take off into the already comfortable breeze...which warmed to a perfect temp, neither too hot nor too cold, for the entire ride! We followed the course I've come to love so much (even the Ojai bike path where I bit it badly last year).
Our climbs for the day consisted of Casitas Pass (Rebecca said farewell just prior) and Mountain Ave. in Summerland. Casitas Pass is always the longest climb of the day but it's in the beginning of the ride, so I threw myself into it with as much power my legs could expend. My muscles were shot after yesterday for sure, and I was slightly disappointed in my climbing performance. But I figured I could recover when I'm dead, so why not go for it? I pushed myself all the way to the steepest part of the climb before the men caught (and dropped) me (granted, I had a tad bit of a head start, but not much). As I pedaled up that long hill, a lone, multi-colored butterfly landed on my shoulder. I looked at her and she at me for a good minute before she took flight again. At the top, as Herb and I waited for Harvey, another lone butterfly landed on Herb's shoulder. I told him that he and I had been blessed by the butterflies today...that or they thought we were cattle.
As we descended the other side of the Pass and pedaled into Summerland, I was beat and personally, I could have skipped any more climbing. But Herb (and the other men) were hill lusting today, so we headed up that pretty but painful street to Mountain Ave (Greenville?). The climbs we did in Summerland are on the Cool Breeze Century route, and I've done them so many times, I know what to expect. I threw my chain into the granny gear and spun as best I could. Harvey was suffering as well since he's not ridden much in the last month. So, as we crested the 'easier' part of Mountain and faced the 'toughest' grade of that road, The Colonel took pity on us and cut the climb short. We had a nice descent back down to the ocean and to Stacky's for lunch (yum, 1/2 a turkey sandwich and some onion rings - Herb and I share)
After lunch, we hit a solid pace back, enjoying the views along the 101 (but not the traffic whizzing by us within a few feet) and the last three miles were exhilarating. I'm always flying high once I hit the final bike path stretch along the ocean. As we pulled back into Ventura, Mark had his third flat of the day (time to change the tires!). We wished him and Steve farewell, Harvey too (back at the parking lot) and then Herb and I headed back on the 101 home.
It was on the drive back, listening to many favorite classic tunes full blast on Herb's stereo, him and me singing along as loud as we could, that I realized just how happy I was today. Herb had opened his sun roof and with the ocean breeze again kissing my cheeks, my miles for the day under my belt and my good friend singing the lyrics to People are Strange, I felt perfectly satisfied in the moment. Ventura and the Ventura Ride has that effect on a person...well, that and a day filled with good friends and happy miles.
(turn off the Tunes on the sidebar to hear videos)
March 26, 2009
father knows best
I had to pop back on here today and confess that my father knows best. Really, he does, and here's why.
Today, he called me to propose something (I'll get to that in a minute). During our conversation, I whined about my recruiter and having to drive over the hill to 'yet again' meet, only this time with the assistant to the President as the President was now not going to be there in the afternoon. I sniveled over my perceived lack of interest or any real efforts on the behalf of my recruiter to get me out on interviews. I moaned that I did not want the position the recruiter had offered me. I knew it was a 'warfare' position (a term used for when an Executive Assistant is paid a six figure salary only to then be worked to death and have no personal life).
When I was done with my my little 'pity-fest,' Dad, who had been listening patiently said this to me (almost verbatim), "now, you shouldn't forget that this is an exciting time for you. You weren't at all happy where you were at [insert former employer's name here], in fact, if I recall, you were miserable. Now, you have the opportunity for a new job. Go to every interview and check out every possibility." He then went on to tell me about how my mother had supported three executives back in the day, and although it wasn't a high paying job, she ended up loving it.
I listened to him and agreed that I need to change my attitude and get back into the mindset I had at the beginning of all of this (when I was first laid off). I then got off the phone, dressed in my Ann Taylor best (flirty dress with blazer and Enzo sling-back heels, hair done perfectly in stylish ponytail, natural makeup, perfect lips, jewelry with Hobo purse) and headed to the interview with the Assistant to the President of the my recruiter's company.
When I arrived, I was greeted immediately by the same pretty smile and soft brown eyes (my recruiter is quite attractive) as I had been over three weeks ago. I can't help but like this young woman. She has a certain genuine quality. Perhaps I've not given her a real chance and perhaps I'm being a little impatient in such a difficult market? I was truly happy to see her and surprisingly happy to be dressed up and feeling feminine, confident, intelligent and professional. I'm very good at what I do to support myself and I shouldn't sell myself or my profession short.
My recruiter brought me in to meet the assistant - another lovely young woman, personable, smart and attentive. I found myself wanting to go hang out at the local bar & grill with these two and, over a martini, shoot the breeze. They are just both great gals! The assistant was taken by me and shot my confidence up five levels by telling me how well spoken and polished (go figure!) I am. Well, I am when I need to be for sure.
After just ten minutes, the assistant ushered me in to meet the President (who hadn't left early, it turned out). There before me sat a very striking woman with piercing eyes and a smile that hinted at a wicked sense of humor. She's a few years my senior but not many and is clearly experienced in her field. She proceeded to interview me in a way that you'd have thought we were best friends debating the economy. She asked me very valid but direct questions about who I am, my work experience and what I wanted in my career going forward. And you know what? I answered her honestly.
You may think to yourself, "duh, of course, why wouldn't you answer honestly?" I'll tell you why. In the role of Executive Assistant, you are expected to say 'yes' to just about anything and make whatever is expected to come true to its fullest. Go watch The Devil Wears Prada - not.an.exaggeration! Well, a little, but not entirely. It depends on the person you are supporting, of course, but it can be such a difficult job. Anyone who thinks an Executive Assistant, Administrative Assistant, Secretary, or, hell, call it 'Girl Friday' is a peon, nothing job should try doing it for just one week. You'll be singing a different tune if not crying into your vodka martini, extra olives, after the experience...if you even last a week.
My exchange with the President lasted all of 20 minutes. Within those 20, I knew I'd impressed this woman just for being who I am with the experience I have. I didn't need to fake anything (I have in the past, trust me) or put my hands up, tongue out, and pant like a puppy. She got it...and me. She said, "I think you are fantastic and a walking placement. We'll find you the right position, but this position is not it." She was referring to the job that I described in one of my earlier blogs this week, one where I'd be working for a very demanding executive from 8am-6pm (translated: 7am-8pm and on weekends). She told me, "you're too nice and real." There was no reason for her to lie and I saw her not only size me up, but like the woman who was sitting in front of her.
My recruiter, who was present the whole time, wore an ear-to-ear smile. Even though I'd not been the right candidate for that particular position, I had impressed her boss. She'd done good and knew it, and now...now...she's excited about me as a potential candidate. Going forward, I do believe I may end up at the top of her list, or at least in the top ten! I shook her hand as I left, looked her in the eye, and thanked her sincerely. I was so glad I went today and so glad I pulled my head out of my ass and listened to my sweet father.
Which brings me to my last item today. Guess what? I'm heading home in May, the end of May to be exact (the weekend before the Tour de Cure). My Grandmother is turning 90 years old on May 20th, and there is a huge family reunion planned that weekend. I wouldn't have been able to wing it (or so I thought) given my unemployed status (and watching my budget). But Dad called and said, "I got a proposal..." He went on to offer me a plane ticket home (his dime) so that I could attend the reunion and, most importantly, see the loved ones I miss terribly. My eyes teared up as I choked back my excitement. I logged onto Southwest and found a ticket for $258.00 round trip! No, no joking on that, tickets are cheap right now. I booked it and am so excited, I'm beside myself! I plan to job search while I'm there (which is from a Thursday to a Tuesday). Can't hurt if I apply for a couple of positions in Nashville. No, I don't want to uproot my life here, but you never know....my perfect job may actually be closer to my family.
As for this visit - besides getting to see the family and be there for the reunion, I get to do something I loved doing last year...ride with my dad. Here's a pic from last July where Dad and I rode to the Cumberland River and back:
Oh, and earlier I said the universe wasn't lining up with 'kismet' for me...I take that back. Maybe I need to consider the longer view and not be so short-sighted. Either way, I'm okay and really, this too shall pass. Once it does, I would hate to regret not enjoying it just a tiny bit. Am I scared and anxious? Of course, I'm human. But I'm not stranded and like Dad said, this should be an exciting time for me...if I'd just relax.
By the way, Dad gets to say, "I told you so" without any lip back from me. Of course, my father never will say that. He'll just say he's happy it all worked out.
Today, he called me to propose something (I'll get to that in a minute). During our conversation, I whined about my recruiter and having to drive over the hill to 'yet again' meet, only this time with the assistant to the President as the President was now not going to be there in the afternoon. I sniveled over my perceived lack of interest or any real efforts on the behalf of my recruiter to get me out on interviews. I moaned that I did not want the position the recruiter had offered me. I knew it was a 'warfare' position (a term used for when an Executive Assistant is paid a six figure salary only to then be worked to death and have no personal life).
When I was done with my my little 'pity-fest,' Dad, who had been listening patiently said this to me (almost verbatim), "now, you shouldn't forget that this is an exciting time for you. You weren't at all happy where you were at [insert former employer's name here], in fact, if I recall, you were miserable. Now, you have the opportunity for a new job. Go to every interview and check out every possibility." He then went on to tell me about how my mother had supported three executives back in the day, and although it wasn't a high paying job, she ended up loving it.
I listened to him and agreed that I need to change my attitude and get back into the mindset I had at the beginning of all of this (when I was first laid off). I then got off the phone, dressed in my Ann Taylor best (flirty dress with blazer and Enzo sling-back heels, hair done perfectly in stylish ponytail, natural makeup, perfect lips, jewelry with Hobo purse) and headed to the interview with the Assistant to the President of the my recruiter's company.
When I arrived, I was greeted immediately by the same pretty smile and soft brown eyes (my recruiter is quite attractive) as I had been over three weeks ago. I can't help but like this young woman. She has a certain genuine quality. Perhaps I've not given her a real chance and perhaps I'm being a little impatient in such a difficult market? I was truly happy to see her and surprisingly happy to be dressed up and feeling feminine, confident, intelligent and professional. I'm very good at what I do to support myself and I shouldn't sell myself or my profession short.
My recruiter brought me in to meet the assistant - another lovely young woman, personable, smart and attentive. I found myself wanting to go hang out at the local bar & grill with these two and, over a martini, shoot the breeze. They are just both great gals! The assistant was taken by me and shot my confidence up five levels by telling me how well spoken and polished (go figure!) I am. Well, I am when I need to be for sure.
After just ten minutes, the assistant ushered me in to meet the President (who hadn't left early, it turned out). There before me sat a very striking woman with piercing eyes and a smile that hinted at a wicked sense of humor. She's a few years my senior but not many and is clearly experienced in her field. She proceeded to interview me in a way that you'd have thought we were best friends debating the economy. She asked me very valid but direct questions about who I am, my work experience and what I wanted in my career going forward. And you know what? I answered her honestly.
You may think to yourself, "duh, of course, why wouldn't you answer honestly?" I'll tell you why. In the role of Executive Assistant, you are expected to say 'yes' to just about anything and make whatever is expected to come true to its fullest. Go watch The Devil Wears Prada - not.an.exaggeration! Well, a little, but not entirely. It depends on the person you are supporting, of course, but it can be such a difficult job. Anyone who thinks an Executive Assistant, Administrative Assistant, Secretary, or, hell, call it 'Girl Friday' is a peon, nothing job should try doing it for just one week. You'll be singing a different tune if not crying into your vodka martini, extra olives, after the experience...if you even last a week.
My exchange with the President lasted all of 20 minutes. Within those 20, I knew I'd impressed this woman just for being who I am with the experience I have. I didn't need to fake anything (I have in the past, trust me) or put my hands up, tongue out, and pant like a puppy. She got it...and me. She said, "I think you are fantastic and a walking placement. We'll find you the right position, but this position is not it." She was referring to the job that I described in one of my earlier blogs this week, one where I'd be working for a very demanding executive from 8am-6pm (translated: 7am-8pm and on weekends). She told me, "you're too nice and real." There was no reason for her to lie and I saw her not only size me up, but like the woman who was sitting in front of her.
My recruiter, who was present the whole time, wore an ear-to-ear smile. Even though I'd not been the right candidate for that particular position, I had impressed her boss. She'd done good and knew it, and now...now...she's excited about me as a potential candidate. Going forward, I do believe I may end up at the top of her list, or at least in the top ten! I shook her hand as I left, looked her in the eye, and thanked her sincerely. I was so glad I went today and so glad I pulled my head out of my ass and listened to my sweet father.
Which brings me to my last item today. Guess what? I'm heading home in May, the end of May to be exact (the weekend before the Tour de Cure). My Grandmother is turning 90 years old on May 20th, and there is a huge family reunion planned that weekend. I wouldn't have been able to wing it (or so I thought) given my unemployed status (and watching my budget). But Dad called and said, "I got a proposal..." He went on to offer me a plane ticket home (his dime) so that I could attend the reunion and, most importantly, see the loved ones I miss terribly. My eyes teared up as I choked back my excitement. I logged onto Southwest and found a ticket for $258.00 round trip! No, no joking on that, tickets are cheap right now. I booked it and am so excited, I'm beside myself! I plan to job search while I'm there (which is from a Thursday to a Tuesday). Can't hurt if I apply for a couple of positions in Nashville. No, I don't want to uproot my life here, but you never know....my perfect job may actually be closer to my family.
As for this visit - besides getting to see the family and be there for the reunion, I get to do something I loved doing last year...ride with my dad. Here's a pic from last July where Dad and I rode to the Cumberland River and back:
Oh, and earlier I said the universe wasn't lining up with 'kismet' for me...I take that back. Maybe I need to consider the longer view and not be so short-sighted. Either way, I'm okay and really, this too shall pass. Once it does, I would hate to regret not enjoying it just a tiny bit. Am I scared and anxious? Of course, I'm human. But I'm not stranded and like Dad said, this should be an exciting time for me...if I'd just relax.
By the way, Dad gets to say, "I told you so" without any lip back from me. Of course, my father never will say that. He'll just say he's happy it all worked out.
well, whoopdaf*ckingdo!
I went knight riding last night! No, this entry is not about me straddling a man dressed in a Sir Lancelot costume (I'm not sure I could even do that with a straight face, actually). I spelled 'night' as 'knight' cause I rode on my knobbies last night. Get it? 'k'night riding? Yuk-yuk. Just working on my comedy skills so that I have yet another career option in case this whole 8-5 job thing doesn't pan out. Kind of like Sally Field did in Punchline...or not.
Now about that ride... Last week, Herb (and I want it noted that it was his idea) thought it would be so very cool to ride our mountain bikes threw Griffith Park and up to the Observatory in lieu of our road bikes. He figured this would challenge us since our mountain bikes weigh upwards of 30 pounds. I jumped on that idea. After all, I ride Nellie all over my neighborhood and up canyon roads so steep, tacking barely keeps my tire down and touching asphalt. I envisioned a steady climb up the canyon and a delicious descent. See, I'm scared to descend fast on my slicks through that sand/debris filled back canyon (in route to the Observatory), but on fat tires, I knew I could fly!
What I didn't think through, though, was how to spread out my workouts for the week so as to allow for this extra fitness load. I realize that I didn't ride so much as a mile last weekend (which, with hindsight, I think was what my body needed...a break) so I should be well rested this week. But it doesn't always work that way, and sometimes after a rest, I'm weaker than before! Well, I should have 'torn down' my legs with weights on Monday, but I opted to ride in my canyons instead (I missed not riding) and on Tuesday, I reported to the gym. There I performed plyometrics, squats, walking lunges, stationary lunges, seated leg presses and step-ups all while jumping rope in between. My legs were jello immediately following that workout and they most definitely had not recovered by yesterday afternoon! I could barely walk. Lucky me - Herb was exactly in the same condition as me since he and his wife got worked over by their trainer on Tuesday morning. He could barely walk. This brought forth the inner whiners in each of us and our 'k'night ride had pathetic written all over it.
Yesterday afternoon, as I loaded Nellie on my car rack, I got a call from my recruiter. I let it go to voicemail as my hands were full. When I checked the message, I was floored. My recruiter, a woman who supposedly has had me "at the top of the list" (her words not mine) for the past three weeks, left me this message, "Please give me a call back. I have a job opportunity to run by you and...um...oh, yeah, my boss would really like to meet you so I have to bring you in again for an interview with her. And...um...are you still in the market? If so, give me a call." Excuse me? This is the recruiter who just had an email exchange with me on Monday who claimed to be submitting me for a position and she's asking if I'm still in the market? I almost threw my phone out my car window in frustration. And let me explain here - I was in this recruiter's office for four and half hours three weeks ago interviewing with her, taking tests (all of which at my level, I shouldn't have to do, and I aced all of them) and I got to spend $14 on parking for the joy of this experience. Now, she wants me to come back three weeks later to meet with her boss? When I arrived at The Hub, I was in the most defeated mood. My legs and mind felt useless.
Lucky for me, Herb is understanding and allowed me to rant and rave as I prepped for the ride. Truthfully, I knew a ride was the best thing for me, although I kept saying to Herb, "can we just go get beers? How about margaritas?" I think Herb worried that I was somewhat serious (I was more than somewhat), so he nervously laughed and at one point in the evening said, "sugar and tequila is all a margarita is," trying to appeal to the dieter in me. Now, that's a true friend! Don't worry, I had neither tequila nor sugar last night, just a good butt whipping!
As we pulled off from his curb, my legs screamed in protest. I never listen to them and pedaled through it. Besides, I was too busy laughing at the Freddyness of both Herb and me. We were hysterical looking on our mountain bikes - Herb with his helmet headlight and me with my beefed out camelback. Herb was less amused but he suffers my antics lightly and in no time we'd pedaled those heavy bikes into the park and were hitting our first climb, Trash Truck Hill. Halfway up that climb, Herb said, "yeah...this is not fun."
I don't think he's use to riding his knobbies on the road and realized how much easier a time our aching legs would have had last night had we stuck to our faithful slicks. As we rounded the corner and through the gate (which was open!) at Mt. Hollywood, we both agreed that our route to the Observatory might be cut short. We then began the climb up that twisting, quiet canyon.
The climb itself was enjoyable as I always love it, no matter how slow I have to snail up it due to the condition of my legs. Last night was no exception, but the added weight of Nellie definitely paid a toll on my overall body strength. I had intended to hit the gym yesterday morning to work my upper body (something I will do today or tomorrow, haven't decided which day) and I'm so grateful I did not! I needed my upper body's full power on that bike and even in a smaller gear (never in granny gear though, I'm proud to report), it was a struggle. By the time Herb and I crested the inner canyon intersection, we were both defeated. I literally sat down on the ground, I was so tired! It was here that Herb said something I'd not heard in years - "Well, whoopdafukingdoo!" He said this to my telling him that I'd performed walking lunges with 10 pound weights. We were comparing workouts to 'out whine' one another and score the 'sorest legs' award. We're such geeks.
With the sun setting and the canyon cooling, we both decided it would be best to skip the climb to the Observatory and instead take an ad hoc route back threw Los Feliz, along the sidewalk and on the bike path home. This was my favorite part of the ride! For one thing, the descent down that dusty, sand pocketed canyon was exactly as I thought it would be on knobbies - fearless!
I didn't even turn my headlight on even though daylight was fading fast and I stuck pretty close to Herb's speed descending. At the bottom, we turned left, hoofed it through the tunnel (with a car's bumper right on our butts!) and flew down past the Greek Theatre. It was here that we bumped into our friend, Eddie, out on a solo ride. He smiled at our use of mountain bikes since that was how he use to roll before purchasing a road bike. We described our climb (and lack of leg power) to him and then we were off again, headed home.
Nearing Los Feliz Drive (with heavy evening traffic), we slipped onto the cracked sidewalk which runs parallel to the street. Rolling along, I felt like a kid out past my bedtime. It was an obstacle course, to say the least, but with fat tires, easily navigated. The biggest hurdles were all of the people on the sidewalk (which we rarely encounter when we use this sidewalk). I even passed two elderly ladies out strolling along who didn't even register my presence slipping by them effortlessly in the grass alongside them. We crossed the park entrance, a very harrowing freeway ramp and then over the freeway bypass. It was exciting to me to be crossing above all the speeding cars below and if not for the fact of safety, I'd have videotaped it!
Our journey home on the bike path was quiet except for the hum of cars passing on the adjacent freeway. Lights of the city twinkled in the reflections off of the LA River (which isn't really a river, the water is so low). Other than one walker and a lone cyclist whizzing by, we didn't see a single living soul. It was here that I grew a bit sleepy staring into the white circle of light before my front wheel. The ride on knobbies had definitely worked me out!
Back at The Hub, I talked again with Ellen. I cried on her shoulder (whined is more like it) about my frustrations with the job hunt. I told her and Herb that I feel as if the universe is not lined up for me right at this moment. Nothing so far in this process has been 'kismet' in the least and I wonder if I should take a step back for a week or two. The recruiter business is just downright annoying. I had two wonderful recruiters years ago, both top-notch professional, and I was spoiled. Both are no longer in the business, much to my dismay. I'm now definitely at the mercy of pure luck with respect to whom I meet and the opportunities I'm granted. Some of that, of course, is my own ambiguous nature of late. I'm not sure I want to keep doing what I've been doing...the corporate dance. But I don't have a clue how to break out of that entirely. I have to support myself and in a year's time, I will be in an unstable position if I don't figure it all out (and get a job). I don't want to rest on my laurels but I don't want to rush into a job and be back in a position where I hate what I'm doing for nine-ten hours a day, five days a week.
Sorry, didn't mean to get back to the topic of my job challenge, but it is one that invades my every thought of late. Well, except when I'm riding. Take last night - while descending that beautiful canyon with the wind in my face and the lights of the city twinkling in the valley below me, I hadn't a worry in the world.
(the crap Herb puts up with...turn off tunes on sidebar to hear video)
Now about that ride... Last week, Herb (and I want it noted that it was his idea) thought it would be so very cool to ride our mountain bikes threw Griffith Park and up to the Observatory in lieu of our road bikes. He figured this would challenge us since our mountain bikes weigh upwards of 30 pounds. I jumped on that idea. After all, I ride Nellie all over my neighborhood and up canyon roads so steep, tacking barely keeps my tire down and touching asphalt. I envisioned a steady climb up the canyon and a delicious descent. See, I'm scared to descend fast on my slicks through that sand/debris filled back canyon (in route to the Observatory), but on fat tires, I knew I could fly!
What I didn't think through, though, was how to spread out my workouts for the week so as to allow for this extra fitness load. I realize that I didn't ride so much as a mile last weekend (which, with hindsight, I think was what my body needed...a break) so I should be well rested this week. But it doesn't always work that way, and sometimes after a rest, I'm weaker than before! Well, I should have 'torn down' my legs with weights on Monday, but I opted to ride in my canyons instead (I missed not riding) and on Tuesday, I reported to the gym. There I performed plyometrics, squats, walking lunges, stationary lunges, seated leg presses and step-ups all while jumping rope in between. My legs were jello immediately following that workout and they most definitely had not recovered by yesterday afternoon! I could barely walk. Lucky me - Herb was exactly in the same condition as me since he and his wife got worked over by their trainer on Tuesday morning. He could barely walk. This brought forth the inner whiners in each of us and our 'k'night ride had pathetic written all over it.
Yesterday afternoon, as I loaded Nellie on my car rack, I got a call from my recruiter. I let it go to voicemail as my hands were full. When I checked the message, I was floored. My recruiter, a woman who supposedly has had me "at the top of the list" (her words not mine) for the past three weeks, left me this message, "Please give me a call back. I have a job opportunity to run by you and...um...oh, yeah, my boss would really like to meet you so I have to bring you in again for an interview with her. And...um...are you still in the market? If so, give me a call." Excuse me? This is the recruiter who just had an email exchange with me on Monday who claimed to be submitting me for a position and she's asking if I'm still in the market? I almost threw my phone out my car window in frustration. And let me explain here - I was in this recruiter's office for four and half hours three weeks ago interviewing with her, taking tests (all of which at my level, I shouldn't have to do, and I aced all of them) and I got to spend $14 on parking for the joy of this experience. Now, she wants me to come back three weeks later to meet with her boss? When I arrived at The Hub, I was in the most defeated mood. My legs and mind felt useless.
Lucky for me, Herb is understanding and allowed me to rant and rave as I prepped for the ride. Truthfully, I knew a ride was the best thing for me, although I kept saying to Herb, "can we just go get beers? How about margaritas?" I think Herb worried that I was somewhat serious (I was more than somewhat), so he nervously laughed and at one point in the evening said, "sugar and tequila is all a margarita is," trying to appeal to the dieter in me. Now, that's a true friend! Don't worry, I had neither tequila nor sugar last night, just a good butt whipping!
As we pulled off from his curb, my legs screamed in protest. I never listen to them and pedaled through it. Besides, I was too busy laughing at the Freddyness of both Herb and me. We were hysterical looking on our mountain bikes - Herb with his helmet headlight and me with my beefed out camelback. Herb was less amused but he suffers my antics lightly and in no time we'd pedaled those heavy bikes into the park and were hitting our first climb, Trash Truck Hill. Halfway up that climb, Herb said, "yeah...this is not fun."
I don't think he's use to riding his knobbies on the road and realized how much easier a time our aching legs would have had last night had we stuck to our faithful slicks. As we rounded the corner and through the gate (which was open!) at Mt. Hollywood, we both agreed that our route to the Observatory might be cut short. We then began the climb up that twisting, quiet canyon.
The climb itself was enjoyable as I always love it, no matter how slow I have to snail up it due to the condition of my legs. Last night was no exception, but the added weight of Nellie definitely paid a toll on my overall body strength. I had intended to hit the gym yesterday morning to work my upper body (something I will do today or tomorrow, haven't decided which day) and I'm so grateful I did not! I needed my upper body's full power on that bike and even in a smaller gear (never in granny gear though, I'm proud to report), it was a struggle. By the time Herb and I crested the inner canyon intersection, we were both defeated. I literally sat down on the ground, I was so tired! It was here that Herb said something I'd not heard in years - "Well, whoopdafukingdoo!" He said this to my telling him that I'd performed walking lunges with 10 pound weights. We were comparing workouts to 'out whine' one another and score the 'sorest legs' award. We're such geeks.
With the sun setting and the canyon cooling, we both decided it would be best to skip the climb to the Observatory and instead take an ad hoc route back threw Los Feliz, along the sidewalk and on the bike path home. This was my favorite part of the ride! For one thing, the descent down that dusty, sand pocketed canyon was exactly as I thought it would be on knobbies - fearless!
I didn't even turn my headlight on even though daylight was fading fast and I stuck pretty close to Herb's speed descending. At the bottom, we turned left, hoofed it through the tunnel (with a car's bumper right on our butts!) and flew down past the Greek Theatre. It was here that we bumped into our friend, Eddie, out on a solo ride. He smiled at our use of mountain bikes since that was how he use to roll before purchasing a road bike. We described our climb (and lack of leg power) to him and then we were off again, headed home.
Nearing Los Feliz Drive (with heavy evening traffic), we slipped onto the cracked sidewalk which runs parallel to the street. Rolling along, I felt like a kid out past my bedtime. It was an obstacle course, to say the least, but with fat tires, easily navigated. The biggest hurdles were all of the people on the sidewalk (which we rarely encounter when we use this sidewalk). I even passed two elderly ladies out strolling along who didn't even register my presence slipping by them effortlessly in the grass alongside them. We crossed the park entrance, a very harrowing freeway ramp and then over the freeway bypass. It was exciting to me to be crossing above all the speeding cars below and if not for the fact of safety, I'd have videotaped it!
Our journey home on the bike path was quiet except for the hum of cars passing on the adjacent freeway. Lights of the city twinkled in the reflections off of the LA River (which isn't really a river, the water is so low). Other than one walker and a lone cyclist whizzing by, we didn't see a single living soul. It was here that I grew a bit sleepy staring into the white circle of light before my front wheel. The ride on knobbies had definitely worked me out!
Back at The Hub, I talked again with Ellen. I cried on her shoulder (whined is more like it) about my frustrations with the job hunt. I told her and Herb that I feel as if the universe is not lined up for me right at this moment. Nothing so far in this process has been 'kismet' in the least and I wonder if I should take a step back for a week or two. The recruiter business is just downright annoying. I had two wonderful recruiters years ago, both top-notch professional, and I was spoiled. Both are no longer in the business, much to my dismay. I'm now definitely at the mercy of pure luck with respect to whom I meet and the opportunities I'm granted. Some of that, of course, is my own ambiguous nature of late. I'm not sure I want to keep doing what I've been doing...the corporate dance. But I don't have a clue how to break out of that entirely. I have to support myself and in a year's time, I will be in an unstable position if I don't figure it all out (and get a job). I don't want to rest on my laurels but I don't want to rush into a job and be back in a position where I hate what I'm doing for nine-ten hours a day, five days a week.
Sorry, didn't mean to get back to the topic of my job challenge, but it is one that invades my every thought of late. Well, except when I'm riding. Take last night - while descending that beautiful canyon with the wind in my face and the lights of the city twinkling in the valley below me, I hadn't a worry in the world.
(the crap Herb puts up with...turn off tunes on sidebar to hear video)
March 25, 2009
cyclists can be selfish creatures
Already this morning, I've been annoyed...twice. First, I've been filling out an application for an online job search database that is both painfully slow and tutorially-challenged (that or I'm instructionally challenged, not sure which). The database has many positions I intend to apply for today (Mom passed this on to me, and I love her! It's a gold mine and not one I would have thought to even check), so I have to do it, but I needed a break before I threw this laptop out the window (kidding, Dad...I so won't ever do that), and this is my break.
The second annoying thing was the email conversation I had with a favorite friend about a pet peeve of mine - not with the friend (not peeved with him at all) but with a cyclist's behavior. I'll put this nicely - cyclists can be selfish creatures. I got so annoyed and all worked up in my 'Dog' attitude kind of way (I was born in the Year of the Dog according to the Chinese, so I'm a Dog), that I was practically frothing at the mouth as I typed responses.
I'm not going into detail about our conversation, but it got me to thinking about my personal cycling pet peeves, particularly with cyclists' behaviors. I'm not sure folks even know I have these pet peeves, so likely, when I get all in a huff over something, they just think I'm hormonal. I'm not. Cyclists (well, people in general) do the most annoying things at times and without regard for others' needs, and it makes my head throb as if my helmet is shrinking to a size smaller than my skull. Not all cyclists, certainly, but some - and they (you) know who they (you) are.
Here is my list of cyclists' behaviors pet peeves and before you read any further, do understand that I do not hold newbies to the same level I do those who are more experienced riders, and these pet peeves are from my dealings with riders who should know better!
HAMMER HOUNDS:
This pet peeve applies to the behavior exhibited more often than not by men on social rides or on rides where women are present and have been asked to join (men love boobies and female butts around while riding bikes, that's a known fact). I'm not speaking of training rides, organized rides and certainly not races. Hammer away in those instances! But boys, boys, boys...you bad, bad boys. Put you guys in a group, and the competition begins (for most of you, there are a few rare exceptions). It's inevitable and, at times, kind of cute (like when you do it for a block or two and then cut it out for the rest of the ride). At other times, it's downright childish and weird.
Look, I love testosterone and the beastie, hairy scent of it...which means, I like it around me and not five miles up the road from me, because the lead male cyclist decided to "drop the hammer" and take off at a pedal pace I can't even hope to maintain. And like hungry Basset Hounds sniffing a single bone, the rest of you men will chase the lead guy - and, oh look!, there goes the Peloton of middle-aged men racing down some urban street as if they were racing the Tour de France. Give me a break, already. If you're riding on a social ride, recovery ride or any ride that has not been designated 'hammer-like-hell' fest, take it back a notch...or, leave the women out of it (and there goes your boobies and female butts).
NOTE: There are amazingly fast women cyclists out there who could drop all of the men I've ever ridden with easily. By all means, I do not speak for those gals. I really only speak for myself with some input from many of the women I've ridden with who are recreational, endurance riders. Any woman reading this who may get all twisted out of shape and disagree with me - I do not speak for you! Now, go hammer with the men and have fun.
FUEL FOOLS:
Have you ever been on a century ride with a cyclist who is a lean, mean riding machine, who takes off out the gate at an aggressive speed and then around mile 60 damn near bonks? Have you ever wondered, what the hell? - 'he/she was so fast today and even wanted to blow by some of the rest stops and take no breaks and, wait, I don't even think I saw him/her eat.' These cyclists are the ones who are convinced that their expensive sports drinks and two packs of gel will fuel them for 100 miles. They are so determined to 'best' a riding time or (so annoying) diet while riding so they can develop 8-pack abs (the 6-pack isn't enough) that they turn their noses up at anything solid. While I'm licking peanut butter off my chubby little fingers, they are eyeing me with a barely concealed contempt. Then, at mile 75, my ride is compromised cause I'm back with them, babying their sorry (bonking) asses and trying to get Cliff Shots down their throats. Suddenly, I'm riding at a pace they can't hang onto after they had tried to drop me in the beginning of the ride.
Listen folks, don't assume that just because my butt jiggles every time I ride over a speed bump that I don't have excellent, honed endurance. And don't assume that I don't know my body so well after years of riding metrics, centuries, double metrics and a few double centuries, that the cookies, nuts and bagel halves smeared with peanut butter that I'm scarfing at every rest stop isn't exactly what I need to fuel me through those 60+ miles at a strong, steady pace. Eat, damnit! And eat often, fuel wisely, and hydrate so that you're not riding at a snail's pace, ready to puke at mile 90. Oh, and you owe me $5.00 for those two bags of Cliff Shots I gave you cause you weren't carrying any food with you!
LEVEL LIAR:
I'm someone who loves to encourage others to go out and take a crack at rides a little beyond their level, to push themselves and to take on challenging miles. I genuinely support those efforts. I do not, however, agree with cyclists joining on rides that are way beyond their capabilities and those riders expecting others to wait/look out/care for them. It's an odd boundary to cross in cycling, an unwritten moral code, that one just has to intuit, it can't be taught. You have to know your level and you have to plan for when you bite off more than you can chew, let alone swallow.
Take me, for instance (I'll use myself only for these examples). For over a year, I rode with Vertical Bob, a buddy of mine who climbs a million feet every year (not exaggerating, that's his goal). He's a billy goat and will take on epic rides of 80+ miles with 9,000-11,000 feet of climbing. I use to be able to stay up with him and join on these amazing rides, but not at present. Maybe someday I'll whip my butt into that kind of shape again. But it's hard to do, and once you're there, you have to maintain that level of fitness or you suffer...really suffer. Since I know I'm not at his level or anywhere near the level of fitness his group of riders are, I don't join them. I know that if I do, somebody will likely feel guilty and have to wait for me (many of their rides are on remote mountain roads where a solo rider, especially female, shouldn't be alone). I don't want them to feel obligated to wait. So, unless I put the effort into either finding a riding partner who is at my level to ride with me on their rides (where I'll be dropped for sure on the climbs) or train up to where I am again at their level, I feel it is irresponsible and selfish of me to join.
Pure and simple - you should make the effort to ensure that you are taken care of and not expect others to watch out for you if you are taking on a ride you have no business doing! (there are always exceptions here, and any rider could bonk or not feel well even on an easy ride, so this pet peeve is only in reference to those cyclists riding at a level they cannot normally handle) Another example? I rode the Tour de Francis last year (The Heartbreak 100 route) and, although I finished, I embarrassed myself terribly. I wasn't in the shape to do it, and a SAG vehicle (with two friends) were out there for hours following my fat ass to the finish line, even after my friend, Francis, asked me personally to be driven back (my selfish cyclist ego got the best of me). I learned from that and will never do it again, and I hate it when others do it. Bite off more than you can chew, by all means, but only if you know you can swallow it as well.
ROUTE REBELS:
I'll make this brief. I've organized social, endurance rides for a few years. When I take the time to develop a route, map it out, set up a meet time, roll time, and plan the particulars along the route to ensure folks are safe and accounted for, do not go f*cking with my ride. Don't suggest an alternative route to riders, don't go taking off on your own (unless you notify me or someone who can tell me on the ride so that I know you're okay), don't whine and snivel cause you don't like a particular aspect of the ride and, last but not least, don't cop an attitude with me when I bite your ass off about it. I ride with adults only (typically), although at times you'd think they were children. I expect these adults to be considerate, safe riders. This means also:
1. no earphones in the ears while riding in a paceline or around others; you want to listen to your iPod when you are climbing some mountain road, spread out from other cyclists, go for it.
2. do not form pacelines or jump in on one if you have no experience doing so; please don't put other riders at risk for injury.
3. do NOT engage in altercations with motorists. You do that once, I'll let it slide; do it a second time when I'm around, and I'll never ride with/near you again - I'll tell you to your face, and I'll even leave a group I love to ride with over it. Cyclists who do this have no balls or brains - it takes both to realize you won't win in a battle with a 2,000 pound automobile, and my life is too important to me to risk injury or death due to a motorist's road rage brought on by a cyclist pounding on the hood of a car and/or yelling and cursing at drivers.
Phew! Okay, there are my cyclists' behaviors pet peeves. I'm sure I do things that drive others crazy (e.g., I carry a camera and take photos on rides, and some cyclists think this a very dangerous habit. I would certainly understand if they ever choose to not ride with me over it.) We are all human and when you get a group of humans together...well...behaviors come out. That's true of many sports I'm sure.
The second annoying thing was the email conversation I had with a favorite friend about a pet peeve of mine - not with the friend (not peeved with him at all) but with a cyclist's behavior. I'll put this nicely - cyclists can be selfish creatures. I got so annoyed and all worked up in my 'Dog' attitude kind of way (I was born in the Year of the Dog according to the Chinese, so I'm a Dog), that I was practically frothing at the mouth as I typed responses.
I'm not going into detail about our conversation, but it got me to thinking about my personal cycling pet peeves, particularly with cyclists' behaviors. I'm not sure folks even know I have these pet peeves, so likely, when I get all in a huff over something, they just think I'm hormonal. I'm not. Cyclists (well, people in general) do the most annoying things at times and without regard for others' needs, and it makes my head throb as if my helmet is shrinking to a size smaller than my skull. Not all cyclists, certainly, but some - and they (you) know who they (you) are.
Here is my list of cyclists' behaviors pet peeves and before you read any further, do understand that I do not hold newbies to the same level I do those who are more experienced riders, and these pet peeves are from my dealings with riders who should know better!
HAMMER HOUNDS:
This pet peeve applies to the behavior exhibited more often than not by men on social rides or on rides where women are present and have been asked to join (men love boobies and female butts around while riding bikes, that's a known fact). I'm not speaking of training rides, organized rides and certainly not races. Hammer away in those instances! But boys, boys, boys...you bad, bad boys. Put you guys in a group, and the competition begins (for most of you, there are a few rare exceptions). It's inevitable and, at times, kind of cute (like when you do it for a block or two and then cut it out for the rest of the ride). At other times, it's downright childish and weird.
Look, I love testosterone and the beastie, hairy scent of it...which means, I like it around me and not five miles up the road from me, because the lead male cyclist decided to "drop the hammer" and take off at a pedal pace I can't even hope to maintain. And like hungry Basset Hounds sniffing a single bone, the rest of you men will chase the lead guy - and, oh look!, there goes the Peloton of middle-aged men racing down some urban street as if they were racing the Tour de France. Give me a break, already. If you're riding on a social ride, recovery ride or any ride that has not been designated 'hammer-like-hell' fest, take it back a notch...or, leave the women out of it (and there goes your boobies and female butts).
NOTE: There are amazingly fast women cyclists out there who could drop all of the men I've ever ridden with easily. By all means, I do not speak for those gals. I really only speak for myself with some input from many of the women I've ridden with who are recreational, endurance riders. Any woman reading this who may get all twisted out of shape and disagree with me - I do not speak for you! Now, go hammer with the men and have fun.
FUEL FOOLS:
Have you ever been on a century ride with a cyclist who is a lean, mean riding machine, who takes off out the gate at an aggressive speed and then around mile 60 damn near bonks? Have you ever wondered, what the hell? - 'he/she was so fast today and even wanted to blow by some of the rest stops and take no breaks and, wait, I don't even think I saw him/her eat.' These cyclists are the ones who are convinced that their expensive sports drinks and two packs of gel will fuel them for 100 miles. They are so determined to 'best' a riding time or (so annoying) diet while riding so they can develop 8-pack abs (the 6-pack isn't enough) that they turn their noses up at anything solid. While I'm licking peanut butter off my chubby little fingers, they are eyeing me with a barely concealed contempt. Then, at mile 75, my ride is compromised cause I'm back with them, babying their sorry (bonking) asses and trying to get Cliff Shots down their throats. Suddenly, I'm riding at a pace they can't hang onto after they had tried to drop me in the beginning of the ride.
Listen folks, don't assume that just because my butt jiggles every time I ride over a speed bump that I don't have excellent, honed endurance. And don't assume that I don't know my body so well after years of riding metrics, centuries, double metrics and a few double centuries, that the cookies, nuts and bagel halves smeared with peanut butter that I'm scarfing at every rest stop isn't exactly what I need to fuel me through those 60+ miles at a strong, steady pace. Eat, damnit! And eat often, fuel wisely, and hydrate so that you're not riding at a snail's pace, ready to puke at mile 90. Oh, and you owe me $5.00 for those two bags of Cliff Shots I gave you cause you weren't carrying any food with you!
LEVEL LIAR:
I'm someone who loves to encourage others to go out and take a crack at rides a little beyond their level, to push themselves and to take on challenging miles. I genuinely support those efforts. I do not, however, agree with cyclists joining on rides that are way beyond their capabilities and those riders expecting others to wait/look out/care for them. It's an odd boundary to cross in cycling, an unwritten moral code, that one just has to intuit, it can't be taught. You have to know your level and you have to plan for when you bite off more than you can chew, let alone swallow.
Take me, for instance (I'll use myself only for these examples). For over a year, I rode with Vertical Bob, a buddy of mine who climbs a million feet every year (not exaggerating, that's his goal). He's a billy goat and will take on epic rides of 80+ miles with 9,000-11,000 feet of climbing. I use to be able to stay up with him and join on these amazing rides, but not at present. Maybe someday I'll whip my butt into that kind of shape again. But it's hard to do, and once you're there, you have to maintain that level of fitness or you suffer...really suffer. Since I know I'm not at his level or anywhere near the level of fitness his group of riders are, I don't join them. I know that if I do, somebody will likely feel guilty and have to wait for me (many of their rides are on remote mountain roads where a solo rider, especially female, shouldn't be alone). I don't want them to feel obligated to wait. So, unless I put the effort into either finding a riding partner who is at my level to ride with me on their rides (where I'll be dropped for sure on the climbs) or train up to where I am again at their level, I feel it is irresponsible and selfish of me to join.
Pure and simple - you should make the effort to ensure that you are taken care of and not expect others to watch out for you if you are taking on a ride you have no business doing! (there are always exceptions here, and any rider could bonk or not feel well even on an easy ride, so this pet peeve is only in reference to those cyclists riding at a level they cannot normally handle) Another example? I rode the Tour de Francis last year (The Heartbreak 100 route) and, although I finished, I embarrassed myself terribly. I wasn't in the shape to do it, and a SAG vehicle (with two friends) were out there for hours following my fat ass to the finish line, even after my friend, Francis, asked me personally to be driven back (my selfish cyclist ego got the best of me). I learned from that and will never do it again, and I hate it when others do it. Bite off more than you can chew, by all means, but only if you know you can swallow it as well.
ROUTE REBELS:
I'll make this brief. I've organized social, endurance rides for a few years. When I take the time to develop a route, map it out, set up a meet time, roll time, and plan the particulars along the route to ensure folks are safe and accounted for, do not go f*cking with my ride. Don't suggest an alternative route to riders, don't go taking off on your own (unless you notify me or someone who can tell me on the ride so that I know you're okay), don't whine and snivel cause you don't like a particular aspect of the ride and, last but not least, don't cop an attitude with me when I bite your ass off about it. I ride with adults only (typically), although at times you'd think they were children. I expect these adults to be considerate, safe riders. This means also:
1. no earphones in the ears while riding in a paceline or around others; you want to listen to your iPod when you are climbing some mountain road, spread out from other cyclists, go for it.
2. do not form pacelines or jump in on one if you have no experience doing so; please don't put other riders at risk for injury.
3. do NOT engage in altercations with motorists. You do that once, I'll let it slide; do it a second time when I'm around, and I'll never ride with/near you again - I'll tell you to your face, and I'll even leave a group I love to ride with over it. Cyclists who do this have no balls or brains - it takes both to realize you won't win in a battle with a 2,000 pound automobile, and my life is too important to me to risk injury or death due to a motorist's road rage brought on by a cyclist pounding on the hood of a car and/or yelling and cursing at drivers.
Phew! Okay, there are my cyclists' behaviors pet peeves. I'm sure I do things that drive others crazy (e.g., I carry a camera and take photos on rides, and some cyclists think this a very dangerous habit. I would certainly understand if they ever choose to not ride with me over it.) We are all human and when you get a group of humans together...well...behaviors come out. That's true of many sports I'm sure.
March 24, 2009
I'm a poet, don't ya know it?
Heh heh. So, being the geeky geekilicious geek that I am and the procrastinator that I am (I was mid job searching when I got off on this poetry-writing thing this morning), I wrote a cycling poem! - and in under five minutes. Of course, now I've gone back and tweaked the darn thing after I already posted it over on The Hungry Cyclist Blog...sigh. I have to go check out the poetry blog he refers to as I love both poetry and cycling, and...well...the two together - synergy! (I hate that word)
For S & Gs, here is my little ol' poem:
Ode to the Canyon Ride
Canyon hills all golden glow,
Coyotes laughing, deer dashing,
Pedals turning, my heart yearning,
Where shall I go?
Steep broken road, I am slow,
My pulse is beating, soul freeing,
Troubles fading, fears abating,
So, now I know.
At the crest, I catch my breath,
Stalling slightly, leaning lightly,
Then departing, fast descending,
This hill has depth!
Wheels beneath me never give,
Motion thrills me, wind instills me,
Road winding, my ride unbinding,
Out here I live.
My sister will dig it. She's the real poet and just sent me a wonderful poem that she wrote. I can't post it unless/until I get her permission, but it's lovely. Her poems would translate into such fantastic children's books.
Anyway, just had to to post the darn thing cause I'm a poet and there's proof! Yes, I'm being facetious, but I did write it from the heart...cycling brings that out in me.
Okay, back to the job stuff. My recruiter submitted me for a position yesterday that I'm ambivalent about. It's one of those $$$ paying jobs where it's 8am to 6pm, nose to the grind...not sure I want to do that again, no matter what the pay is. Sigh.
Won't someone please pay me to ride my bike?
For S & Gs, here is my little ol' poem:
Ode to the Canyon Ride
Canyon hills all golden glow,
Coyotes laughing, deer dashing,
Pedals turning, my heart yearning,
Where shall I go?
Steep broken road, I am slow,
My pulse is beating, soul freeing,
Troubles fading, fears abating,
So, now I know.
At the crest, I catch my breath,
Stalling slightly, leaning lightly,
Then departing, fast descending,
This hill has depth!
Wheels beneath me never give,
Motion thrills me, wind instills me,
Road winding, my ride unbinding,
Out here I live.
My sister will dig it. She's the real poet and just sent me a wonderful poem that she wrote. I can't post it unless/until I get her permission, but it's lovely. Her poems would translate into such fantastic children's books.
Anyway, just had to to post the darn thing cause I'm a poet and there's proof! Yes, I'm being facetious, but I did write it from the heart...cycling brings that out in me.
Okay, back to the job stuff. My recruiter submitted me for a position yesterday that I'm ambivalent about. It's one of those $$$ paying jobs where it's 8am to 6pm, nose to the grind...not sure I want to do that again, no matter what the pay is. Sigh.
Won't someone please pay me to ride my bike?
March 23, 2009
Boo's big adventure
As I dressed to go riding up the windy canyons in my neighborhood, I noticed Stephie (Boo) staring forlorn out her terrarium. She wasn't looking at me; she was looking out my french doors from behind the terrarium glass. I'm not sure if I shared this photo on here before (I did on Twitter, but I forget which is which half the time), but this was taken about a week or so ago when Boo was on one of her 'walk abouts.'
That photo breaks my heart. And I didn't pose her that way, for the record. No, she'll climb up and stare out my screen door for as long as I'll let her. I've now trained her to stay down from climbing the mesh (a firm tone in the voice apparently works with lizards as well as dogs) and so she's just taken to staring out the door as if she wished she was under the natural sun living among her fellow dragons. Nonetheless, she'll never be set free as she couldn't survive for a day out there. Crickets are not dusted with calcium and just dropped at your feet in the wild, nor are Superworms. She has no clue how much she has it made living with FatHead here and I don't think she ever will.
But given that I'm a softie, I decided today that I would test the water by taking her outside. This is a risky move, to say the least, and I knew that I had to watch her very carefully for any sign of fleeing into the bushes (which there are few around my driveway, but I still don't want her to make a run for it). I grabbed the camera, gathered Boo up on my bosom and walked slowly out and down my apartment stairs.
It was so windy out this afternoon (which later effected my ride in the canyons) but quite warm with a bright afternoon sun. From the moment I stepped into the sun on my driveway, Boo's eyes widened and she cocked her head from side to side in a rapid motion, taking in all the sights she could handle. I walked first to some flowers and tree branches, both of which she tried to lick, and then walked us over to a closed in area near the laundry room and set her down on the warm asphalt and out of the wind.
Well, go figure that she's chickensh*t...not to pick on her, she is all of 6 ounces...but that little lizard didn't want me to put her down and kept cocking her head sideways and up at me. She's use to my camera now and did pose for about four pics before trying to climb up my leg (I should have videotaped this, but I was too busy trying to console her). So, I sat down on the pavement and placed her on my leg in the sun. She was fine with that, but I had to chuckle. I also found it so cute that she does actually know who I am and wanted to stick with me.
After about 15 minutes, I walked her over to my neighbor (who has also been laid off along with her husband) to introduce her and her two sons to Boo. The sons had two friends over, a boy and a girl, who went crazy for Stephie, and another neighbor out walking ran over to pet her as well. She's definitely a crowd pleaser. She also behaved so well. I think all the handling I do of her has paid off.
Anyway, I know I already ranted and raved on here today, but I just wanted this moment recorded. No, not like a proud parent (remember, my lizard and I are more like pals and roommates than parent/child!) but more like a human very interested to see what her nonhuman companion was going to do on her first visit to the outside world. If ever a little lizard was just completely bewildered and mystified, Boo was. I may buy her a carrier at some point and take her to a park so that she can bask out under the real sun on a picnic blanket. I'll pack myself a turkey sandwich and pack her some worms.
Yeah...I'm officially 'crazy dragon lady.'
That photo breaks my heart. And I didn't pose her that way, for the record. No, she'll climb up and stare out my screen door for as long as I'll let her. I've now trained her to stay down from climbing the mesh (a firm tone in the voice apparently works with lizards as well as dogs) and so she's just taken to staring out the door as if she wished she was under the natural sun living among her fellow dragons. Nonetheless, she'll never be set free as she couldn't survive for a day out there. Crickets are not dusted with calcium and just dropped at your feet in the wild, nor are Superworms. She has no clue how much she has it made living with FatHead here and I don't think she ever will.
But given that I'm a softie, I decided today that I would test the water by taking her outside. This is a risky move, to say the least, and I knew that I had to watch her very carefully for any sign of fleeing into the bushes (which there are few around my driveway, but I still don't want her to make a run for it). I grabbed the camera, gathered Boo up on my bosom and walked slowly out and down my apartment stairs.
It was so windy out this afternoon (which later effected my ride in the canyons) but quite warm with a bright afternoon sun. From the moment I stepped into the sun on my driveway, Boo's eyes widened and she cocked her head from side to side in a rapid motion, taking in all the sights she could handle. I walked first to some flowers and tree branches, both of which she tried to lick, and then walked us over to a closed in area near the laundry room and set her down on the warm asphalt and out of the wind.
Well, go figure that she's chickensh*t...not to pick on her, she is all of 6 ounces...but that little lizard didn't want me to put her down and kept cocking her head sideways and up at me. She's use to my camera now and did pose for about four pics before trying to climb up my leg (I should have videotaped this, but I was too busy trying to console her). So, I sat down on the pavement and placed her on my leg in the sun. She was fine with that, but I had to chuckle. I also found it so cute that she does actually know who I am and wanted to stick with me.
After about 15 minutes, I walked her over to my neighbor (who has also been laid off along with her husband) to introduce her and her two sons to Boo. The sons had two friends over, a boy and a girl, who went crazy for Stephie, and another neighbor out walking ran over to pet her as well. She's definitely a crowd pleaser. She also behaved so well. I think all the handling I do of her has paid off.
Anyway, I know I already ranted and raved on here today, but I just wanted this moment recorded. No, not like a proud parent (remember, my lizard and I are more like pals and roommates than parent/child!) but more like a human very interested to see what her nonhuman companion was going to do on her first visit to the outside world. If ever a little lizard was just completely bewildered and mystified, Boo was. I may buy her a carrier at some point and take her to a park so that she can bask out under the real sun on a picnic blanket. I'll pack myself a turkey sandwich and pack her some worms.
Yeah...I'm officially 'crazy dragon lady.'
Hewlett Packard needs to pull their heads out of their...
Talk about dimwits and poor customer service...grrr.
As you know, my kind, patient father bought me a laptop to help me out during my time of need (and I must say, he has so much; I'm not sure what I'd do without it...or him!). Then for my birthday, he purchased a (very nice) printer to go with it, one that prints, photocopies, scans and faxes. The (very large) box arrived last week, and I put it aside in my living room to open later (so I procrastinated, what of it?).
Yesterday, I decided to do a few things needing to be done and unpacking/setting up the printer was number one on my list. I unpacked the box and (don't fall over now) read the manual on how to set it up, following the step-by-step procedure to do so. You basically place the printer in a well-ventilated area of the room, connect all the various trays and cords/cables and then install the software needed on your laptop. Easy enough, huh? Yeah....would be....if the f'ng cable needed for it to work with your laptop (otherwise known as the USB cable) was included.
I spent at least 1/2 an hour searching my living room, the box the printer came in, under the couch, in Stephie's terrarium (she can be ornery, that little lizard, and could have hidden it in her sand, you know) and came up empty handed. Perplexed, I picked up my phone to call Dad (like he was suppose to know where the damn thing was?) - then it dawned on me. There was no USB cable in the box. So, in lieu of dialing back home, I instead dialed the number for the USA Hewlett Packard support team...located in India.
After many teleprompts and minutes of having to hold on the line while listening to an elevator music rendition of Eye of the Tiger, A man with a thick accent answered (named Bill - no, I'm not kidding). He was immediately very polite and attentive. I explained my shock over the missing USB cable and how, at that very moment and until I could secure such cable, the printer was a useless P.O.S. to me. I also explained that my sweet father had bought the Hewlett Packard laptop and printer as gifts for me (I left out the detail about my someday paying Dad back) and how upset I was that there was no USB cord included in the box so that the printer would...um, you know...print.
Bill listened, repeated everything I said (took notes I assumed) and then asked to place me on hold again (this time I was treated to the elevator music rendition of I Wanna Dance with Somebody). When he came back, he had his Supervisor (Ahwnee?) on the line as well. Ahwnee explained to me that, unfortunately, Hewlett Packard doesn't pack USB cords in their printer boxes, and that, somehow, we customers are to read the online ad's list of items included in the box with the printer and construe that since the USB cable isn't listed, it wouldn't be included.
Huh? Is that like some kind of joke that Hewlett Packard plays on customers? You know...are you smarter than a fifth grader or an Information Technology Specialist? I looked up the printer's online ad, and nowhere in the ad does it say that the customer would need to purchase the USB cord separately, which I've since learned is considered an "accessory" even though it's a cable that one must have for the printer to work with the laptop. Hewlett Packard only states that the cable isn't included with the printer in the Accessories tab, the seventh tab in a row of tabs in the ad. Hewlett Packard apparently assumes that all customers are aware that they (HP) consider the USB cable an "accessory" even though it really isn't optional nor an accessory at all - it's a necessity for the use of the printer! (how many times must I state this?)
Bill and Ahwnee were both very smart and sincerely tried to be helpful. They could not remedy the situation but seemed to agree with me when I said "well, that's just the most back-assward thing I think I've heard yet," and were hopeful that Hewlett Packard would provide excellent customer service to a this brand new HP laptop and printer owner by sending her the little $20 cord (free of charge) so that her printer would actually work. They wrote up a report and followed up via email last night. I take no issue with Bill or Ahwnee.
No. I take issue with the American Case Manager who called me just now. Ray, unlike Bill and Ahwnee, was less into listening to me and more into telling me 1) "your phone is going in and out, I'm having difficulty hearing you" and 2) "well, it says online what is inclu
ded in the box" (over and over and over again as if this was the answer to the meaning of the universe). Funny thing is...he heard me just fine up until I explained that Dad, a loyal HP customer, bought my laptop and printer from an HP representative who should have instructed Dad to include the USB "accessory" cable in his purchase so that the printer's software would would work with the laptop (duh-duh). Ray also claimed to hear "static on the line" when I told him that the online ad for this printer should instruct customers to buy the USB "accessory" cable on the front page of the product ad and not seven tabs in.
I finally just hung up on Ray as the repeated attempts to speak to him were useless and it was clear he was just calling out of courtesy (and to report he'd "returned customer complaint call" to his supervisor) without any real concern for my experience as a first time Hewlett Packard laptop/printer owner. I should have Ray's job and Ray should be currently looking up job opportunities on Monster.com...just sayin'.
I'm aware that those of you out there who are technologically savvy may be scratching your heads and calling me the dumbass. Shouldn't I already know this about a printer and shouldn't Dad have known? (watch it! - don't go calling Dad a dumbass or I'll have to speak to you privately!) In my opinion...nope. It is Hewlett Packard's responsibility to spell it out for the customers exactly what they need to purchase in order to ensure that their $200 printer does, in fact, print - especially if it needs to be purchased separately from the printer. Seems logical to me. And had I known this, I'd have purchased/secured this USB cable already (lucky for me, a sweetheart friend is just going to give me one). Such a waste of time, I realize, but I'm a 'principle' gal - and this was most definitely a matter of principle to me.
Now, ask me if this experience will taint my excitement over any Hewlett Packard product in the future. Go ahead...ask.
As you know, my kind, patient father bought me a laptop to help me out during my time of need (and I must say, he has so much; I'm not sure what I'd do without it...or him!). Then for my birthday, he purchased a (very nice) printer to go with it, one that prints, photocopies, scans and faxes. The (very large) box arrived last week, and I put it aside in my living room to open later (so I procrastinated, what of it?).
Yesterday, I decided to do a few things needing to be done and unpacking/setting up the printer was number one on my list. I unpacked the box and (don't fall over now) read the manual on how to set it up, following the step-by-step procedure to do so. You basically place the printer in a well-ventilated area of the room, connect all the various trays and cords/cables and then install the software needed on your laptop. Easy enough, huh? Yeah....would be....if the f'ng cable needed for it to work with your laptop (otherwise known as the USB cable) was included.
I spent at least 1/2 an hour searching my living room, the box the printer came in, under the couch, in Stephie's terrarium (she can be ornery, that little lizard, and could have hidden it in her sand, you know) and came up empty handed. Perplexed, I picked up my phone to call Dad (like he was suppose to know where the damn thing was?) - then it dawned on me. There was no USB cable in the box. So, in lieu of dialing back home, I instead dialed the number for the USA Hewlett Packard support team...located in India.
After many teleprompts and minutes of having to hold on the line while listening to an elevator music rendition of Eye of the Tiger, A man with a thick accent answered (named Bill - no, I'm not kidding). He was immediately very polite and attentive. I explained my shock over the missing USB cable and how, at that very moment and until I could secure such cable, the printer was a useless P.O.S. to me. I also explained that my sweet father had bought the Hewlett Packard laptop and printer as gifts for me (I left out the detail about my someday paying Dad back) and how upset I was that there was no USB cord included in the box so that the printer would...um, you know...print.
Bill listened, repeated everything I said (took notes I assumed) and then asked to place me on hold again (this time I was treated to the elevator music rendition of I Wanna Dance with Somebody). When he came back, he had his Supervisor (Ahwnee?) on the line as well. Ahwnee explained to me that, unfortunately, Hewlett Packard doesn't pack USB cords in their printer boxes, and that, somehow, we customers are to read the online ad's list of items included in the box with the printer and construe that since the USB cable isn't listed, it wouldn't be included.
Huh? Is that like some kind of joke that Hewlett Packard plays on customers? You know...are you smarter than a fifth grader or an Information Technology Specialist? I looked up the printer's online ad, and nowhere in the ad does it say that the customer would need to purchase the USB cord separately, which I've since learned is considered an "accessory" even though it's a cable that one must have for the printer to work with the laptop. Hewlett Packard only states that the cable isn't included with the printer in the Accessories tab, the seventh tab in a row of tabs in the ad. Hewlett Packard apparently assumes that all customers are aware that they (HP) consider the USB cable an "accessory" even though it really isn't optional nor an accessory at all - it's a necessity for the use of the printer! (how many times must I state this?)
Bill and Ahwnee were both very smart and sincerely tried to be helpful. They could not remedy the situation but seemed to agree with me when I said "well, that's just the most back-assward thing I think I've heard yet," and were hopeful that Hewlett Packard would provide excellent customer service to a this brand new HP laptop and printer owner by sending her the little $20 cord (free of charge) so that her printer would actually work. They wrote up a report and followed up via email last night. I take no issue with Bill or Ahwnee.
No. I take issue with the American Case Manager who called me just now. Ray, unlike Bill and Ahwnee, was less into listening to me and more into telling me 1) "your phone is going in and out, I'm having difficulty hearing you" and 2) "well, it says online what is inclu
ded in the box" (over and over and over again as if this was the answer to the meaning of the universe). Funny thing is...he heard me just fine up until I explained that Dad, a loyal HP customer, bought my laptop and printer from an HP representative who should have instructed Dad to include the USB "accessory" cable in his purchase so that the printer's software would would work with the laptop (duh-duh). Ray also claimed to hear "static on the line" when I told him that the online ad for this printer should instruct customers to buy the USB "accessory" cable on the front page of the product ad and not seven tabs in.I finally just hung up on Ray as the repeated attempts to speak to him were useless and it was clear he was just calling out of courtesy (and to report he'd "returned customer complaint call" to his supervisor) without any real concern for my experience as a first time Hewlett Packard laptop/printer owner. I should have Ray's job and Ray should be currently looking up job opportunities on Monster.com...just sayin'.
I'm aware that those of you out there who are technologically savvy may be scratching your heads and calling me the dumbass. Shouldn't I already know this about a printer and shouldn't Dad have known? (watch it! - don't go calling Dad a dumbass or I'll have to speak to you privately!) In my opinion...nope. It is Hewlett Packard's responsibility to spell it out for the customers exactly what they need to purchase in order to ensure that their $200 printer does, in fact, print - especially if it needs to be purchased separately from the printer. Seems logical to me. And had I known this, I'd have purchased/secured this USB cable already (lucky for me, a sweetheart friend is just going to give me one). Such a waste of time, I realize, but I'm a 'principle' gal - and this was most definitely a matter of principle to me.
Now, ask me if this experience will taint my excitement over any Hewlett Packard product in the future. Go ahead...ask.
March 22, 2009
Boo has given me an ultimatum
I did nothing yesterday. Nothing. I sat on my ass all day long, refused an invitation to go out for a drink, and ate chili mac for dinner (don't get excited, it was low fat/carb mac). I felt as if I was drugged and quite possibly hog tied. My limbs were heavy and I had no desire to do anything. And today...I feel the same. I did sleep last night, better than the night before, but I woke up at 4:00am and couldn't fall asleep again. I then futzed around on this blog and changed the format (why? I don't know, just cause) and then I job searched (stick gawddim needles in my temple already!). Finally, I got up.
I had brunch/lunch plans with two friends. We had planned to hike as well, but the weather is too windy/cold/damp for a hike to be truly enjoyable, so we just ate instead at one of my favorite restaurants, Jinky's. We all ate too much...I had a huge plate of food and four cups of coffee. You could roll me sideways on the floor right now and my chin would never touch carpet due to the enormity of my puffed up belly. I'm like Budda with hair and without the zen mojo. I'm a puffy, overfed pile of poo (for lack of a better descriptive word).
I'm also, so it seems, driving my lizard to 'not drinking.' She hasn't pooped in three days and I'm frantic. I've been giving her warm baths and trying (in vain) to get her to drink water. Basically, you have to drip water over their snouts and normally, they will drink. Not my beardie, oh no. She's a stubborn little sh*t and refused to drink, refused. Instead, she just stared at me in a way that would make one think I was burning the bottom of her belly with lit matches. She can be such a PITA sometimes. She did behave in her bath, though, so I decided not to pitch her out on the balcony in front of my neighbor's cat.
I'm joking, of course, as I would never harm my little lizard. In fact, I may take her to a Vet tomorrow if she doesn't do her business. The most heinous ailment that can befall a bearded dragon is impaction - where they get an intestinal blockage from consuming sand. She was raised on sand, so this shouldn't be an issue. Plus, I put her on expensive sand that is supposed to be digestible, but she could still suffer from impaction as it is very common. It can also kill her quite quickly. I told my mother that if my little dragon dies, I'll be inconsolable. I've looked up every symptom of beardie impaction, and she has none except for the 'not pooping' thing. Still, I'm keeping an eye on her. I also pulled her out of her terrarium and let her walk around (even with the risk of having to clean up lizard poop).
Well, guess what she did? She busted me.
She went straight for that wrapper and just sat there determined to send me a clear message. No, I've not been sitting around eating Peppermint Patties by the handful, but I think that my sluggish demeanor of late has her worried. Judging from that photo, Boo has given me an ultimatum - no more junk, not even as an occasional treat or else! Isn't that cute? I'm looking out for her, hoping she'll poop*, and she's looking out for me, wishing I'd eat right and be healthy. Now, that's what true friends and roommates do! She loves her FatHead after all...well, that or she knows that I'm the keeper of crickets and doesn't want anything to happen to me. Either way, I got the message and promised her that I'm going to get up and either go for a ride or a walk or to the gym...something. I also promised her that I'm going to be 100% strict on my diet all next week.
I then promptly ate the last two Peppermint Patties in that King Sized package and threw the wrapper away. Couldn't have that lying around.
*Boo just pooped. Phew! She's now been rewarded with another 'walk about' after I washed her little feet.
I had brunch/lunch plans with two friends. We had planned to hike as well, but the weather is too windy/cold/damp for a hike to be truly enjoyable, so we just ate instead at one of my favorite restaurants, Jinky's. We all ate too much...I had a huge plate of food and four cups of coffee. You could roll me sideways on the floor right now and my chin would never touch carpet due to the enormity of my puffed up belly. I'm like Budda with hair and without the zen mojo. I'm a puffy, overfed pile of poo (for lack of a better descriptive word).
I'm also, so it seems, driving my lizard to 'not drinking.' She hasn't pooped in three days and I'm frantic. I've been giving her warm baths and trying (in vain) to get her to drink water. Basically, you have to drip water over their snouts and normally, they will drink. Not my beardie, oh no. She's a stubborn little sh*t and refused to drink, refused. Instead, she just stared at me in a way that would make one think I was burning the bottom of her belly with lit matches. She can be such a PITA sometimes. She did behave in her bath, though, so I decided not to pitch her out on the balcony in front of my neighbor's cat.
I'm joking, of course, as I would never harm my little lizard. In fact, I may take her to a Vet tomorrow if she doesn't do her business. The most heinous ailment that can befall a bearded dragon is impaction - where they get an intestinal blockage from consuming sand. She was raised on sand, so this shouldn't be an issue. Plus, I put her on expensive sand that is supposed to be digestible, but she could still suffer from impaction as it is very common. It can also kill her quite quickly. I told my mother that if my little dragon dies, I'll be inconsolable. I've looked up every symptom of beardie impaction, and she has none except for the 'not pooping' thing. Still, I'm keeping an eye on her. I also pulled her out of her terrarium and let her walk around (even with the risk of having to clean up lizard poop).
Well, guess what she did? She busted me.
She went straight for that wrapper and just sat there determined to send me a clear message. No, I've not been sitting around eating Peppermint Patties by the handful, but I think that my sluggish demeanor of late has her worried. Judging from that photo, Boo has given me an ultimatum - no more junk, not even as an occasional treat or else! Isn't that cute? I'm looking out for her, hoping she'll poop*, and she's looking out for me, wishing I'd eat right and be healthy. Now, that's what true friends and roommates do! She loves her FatHead after all...well, that or she knows that I'm the keeper of crickets and doesn't want anything to happen to me. Either way, I got the message and promised her that I'm going to get up and either go for a ride or a walk or to the gym...something. I also promised her that I'm going to be 100% strict on my diet all next week.
I then promptly ate the last two Peppermint Patties in that King Sized package and threw the wrapper away. Couldn't have that lying around.
*Boo just pooped. Phew! She's now been rewarded with another 'walk about' after I washed her little feet.
March 21, 2009
my uterus exploded
No sleep again last night, unless you wish to count 3.5 hours (I suppose you can). Add that to the half hour of solid rest I got the night before, and that equals 4 hours in two nights. What's going on, I'm not sure, but this effected my riding today and at present, I am not the happy morning person I'm known to be.
I'm also not in the saddle riding my favorite all time ride wtih my favorite riding buddy (Herbie) up to Mt. Baldy Village, a ride I was looking forward to today. Instead, I and my dragon are sitting in a semi dark living room (haven't even opened my curtains yet) giving each other the stink eye. Well, she's giving me the stink eye while I'm looking at her with worry. She, like her FatHead, hasn't been acting her usual dragony self in the last two days, and I worry she is either getting sick or picking up on her human companion's bummed mood. She has been just lying around not even demanding to be let out of her terrarium - something she loves!
As for my mood, I'm normally a jubilant optimist (with a sarcastic take on things) and really, I haven't reason to be bummed or to enter a tail spin (yet) and therefore, I consider myself much less stressed than those in a less fortunate position (those who can't make rent). But something that I forgot about with job searching is that even under normal circumstances, it is daunting and challenges you on a level most of us would rather not be challenged on. Why do you think the majority of us would rather stay for years in a crappy job we hate just so we can be comfortable in lieu of pushing ourselves to change our situation? I'm one of those who did just that. I'm a creature of habit and can learn a job very quickly. Once I'm over the initial 'newness hump' or learning curve, I become a permanent fixture. This was the case at my last job and, honestly, it took the proverbial boot in the ass (being laid off) to get me out of there. No matter how difficult this process my prove to be, I will always believe that I am better off not at my former job. I just wish the economy was robust and I'd not be worried...well, wouldn't we all.
Now, the stress I'm feeling is less about just the need to get a job (which is a stress and concern, let me not sound cocky here) and more to do with the notion of what and where that job will be. Change is not only scary but risky...it can also be the best thing for you and in the end, a good thing. I have found that with every change I've made job wise, something very positive has come my way (with a few negatives, as well, but less so). I'd have never taken up cycling if I hadn't been hired at my last company and met the folks I did in the building's gym I joined. That fact alone reminds me why it was so wonderful I even worked there. I just should have left sooner and in a better economy. Flip side to that? Had I left earlier, I wouldn't have received the severance package I did and then had I been laid off from a new company, I might have been given less or no severance! Timing is critical, and all things happen as they should, so I don't feel cheated in the least. But this new change headed my direction - a job I enjoy and learn from, a job I despise and have to leave again in another year or two, or...???? - is certainly weighing heavily on my mind.
Typically though, even when stressed and worried, I can sleep, especially if I keep my exercise up which I have. I rode yesterday (which wiped me out following) on Nellie for 20 flat miles (to retrieve crickets for Stephie). I called Herb yesterday afternoon already concerned about today's ride as my legs were toast and I felt, well, tired. He basically said "I warned you" (which he did) and "HTFU." I was determined to take his second suggestion and went to bed around 8:30pm. If I'd gotten a solid night's rest (or even just 6 or 7 hours), I could have pulled it together. But 3.5 hours of sleep, and I awoke this morning feeling as if I'd been roughed up by some rough dude over something I said innocently while standing in line to buy tickets for a midnight screening of some B horror flick (I use to go to those all the time in my 20's and rough dudes were roughing up folks all the time for innocent comments, but I was never one of them).
I hated calling Herb this morning and telling him that I couldn't ride and had to go back to sleep. I didn't text him or email him, which is unacceptable anyway, and talked to him directly. I explained my sleepless night(s), to which Herb said, "Yeah, well, I didn't sleep so great last night either," with a deep sigh.
He got his ear bitten off, "Well, did you sleep the night before? Huh? I didn't, Herb, and I don't feel well!" Poor thing. I bet he now feels like he got roughed up by some rough dude for an innocent comment while standing in line to buy tickets for a midnight screening of some B horror flick.
"I was just saying that I understand how that feels," he said with another sigh. Sometimes I think he's just resigned to my moodiness of late. I did apologize for snapping. Truth is, I felt awful bailing on the ride and worried he'd not have anyone to ride with. Others are going, but they like to hammer up the hill. Herb and I take our time which is why we ride together so often. It's nice to have a riding buddy who allows you to complete the ride at your pace. I've spent years desperately trying to cling onto the back wheels of faster riders, and somewhere in the middle of last year, completely lost the desire to do it anymore. Herb is the same way and prefers to go at a less punishing pace. We are well matched.
I'd never ever bail on him without real reason to do it and, as he knows, I'd never ever bail on a Baldy ride (sigh), so I'm sure he knew I was sincere. Still, I commented to him that as a cyclist even the thought of bailing brings great shame. I joked, "it's almost as if you have to say 'my lung is hanging out my mouth' or 'my uterus exploded' to justify not riding." He laughed at that but I could tell he was bummed. I made him promise me he'd not ride to Baldy alone and in return I promised to ride up to Baldy with him soon. I then got off the phone and fell into a dream-filled slumber for 3 hours. I hate morning dreams as they are so jumbled and more reflective of your waking mind than night dreams, and my waking mind is not a place I want to review while trying to sleep. Needless to say, I'm still not well rested.
Adding insult to injury, it's ugly outside today, overcast, gloomy...so fitting of my mood. It would have been helpful to have sunny skies, but nothing I can do about that. I will likely ride Nellie later or drag Patsy to Griffith Park, or I may just go to the gym. Either way, my day will not be the glorious one I had planned.
I'm also not in the saddle riding my favorite all time ride wtih my favorite riding buddy (Herbie) up to Mt. Baldy Village, a ride I was looking forward to today. Instead, I and my dragon are sitting in a semi dark living room (haven't even opened my curtains yet) giving each other the stink eye. Well, she's giving me the stink eye while I'm looking at her with worry. She, like her FatHead, hasn't been acting her usual dragony self in the last two days, and I worry she is either getting sick or picking up on her human companion's bummed mood. She has been just lying around not even demanding to be let out of her terrarium - something she loves!
As for my mood, I'm normally a jubilant optimist (with a sarcastic take on things) and really, I haven't reason to be bummed or to enter a tail spin (yet) and therefore, I consider myself much less stressed than those in a less fortunate position (those who can't make rent). But something that I forgot about with job searching is that even under normal circumstances, it is daunting and challenges you on a level most of us would rather not be challenged on. Why do you think the majority of us would rather stay for years in a crappy job we hate just so we can be comfortable in lieu of pushing ourselves to change our situation? I'm one of those who did just that. I'm a creature of habit and can learn a job very quickly. Once I'm over the initial 'newness hump' or learning curve, I become a permanent fixture. This was the case at my last job and, honestly, it took the proverbial boot in the ass (being laid off) to get me out of there. No matter how difficult this process my prove to be, I will always believe that I am better off not at my former job. I just wish the economy was robust and I'd not be worried...well, wouldn't we all.
Now, the stress I'm feeling is less about just the need to get a job (which is a stress and concern, let me not sound cocky here) and more to do with the notion of what and where that job will be. Change is not only scary but risky...it can also be the best thing for you and in the end, a good thing. I have found that with every change I've made job wise, something very positive has come my way (with a few negatives, as well, but less so). I'd have never taken up cycling if I hadn't been hired at my last company and met the folks I did in the building's gym I joined. That fact alone reminds me why it was so wonderful I even worked there. I just should have left sooner and in a better economy. Flip side to that? Had I left earlier, I wouldn't have received the severance package I did and then had I been laid off from a new company, I might have been given less or no severance! Timing is critical, and all things happen as they should, so I don't feel cheated in the least. But this new change headed my direction - a job I enjoy and learn from, a job I despise and have to leave again in another year or two, or...???? - is certainly weighing heavily on my mind.
Typically though, even when stressed and worried, I can sleep, especially if I keep my exercise up which I have. I rode yesterday (which wiped me out following) on Nellie for 20 flat miles (to retrieve crickets for Stephie). I called Herb yesterday afternoon already concerned about today's ride as my legs were toast and I felt, well, tired. He basically said "I warned you" (which he did) and "HTFU." I was determined to take his second suggestion and went to bed around 8:30pm. If I'd gotten a solid night's rest (or even just 6 or 7 hours), I could have pulled it together. But 3.5 hours of sleep, and I awoke this morning feeling as if I'd been roughed up by some rough dude over something I said innocently while standing in line to buy tickets for a midnight screening of some B horror flick (I use to go to those all the time in my 20's and rough dudes were roughing up folks all the time for innocent comments, but I was never one of them).
I hated calling Herb this morning and telling him that I couldn't ride and had to go back to sleep. I didn't text him or email him, which is unacceptable anyway, and talked to him directly. I explained my sleepless night(s), to which Herb said, "Yeah, well, I didn't sleep so great last night either," with a deep sigh.
He got his ear bitten off, "Well, did you sleep the night before? Huh? I didn't, Herb, and I don't feel well!" Poor thing. I bet he now feels like he got roughed up by some rough dude for an innocent comment while standing in line to buy tickets for a midnight screening of some B horror flick.
"I was just saying that I understand how that feels," he said with another sigh. Sometimes I think he's just resigned to my moodiness of late. I did apologize for snapping. Truth is, I felt awful bailing on the ride and worried he'd not have anyone to ride with. Others are going, but they like to hammer up the hill. Herb and I take our time which is why we ride together so often. It's nice to have a riding buddy who allows you to complete the ride at your pace. I've spent years desperately trying to cling onto the back wheels of faster riders, and somewhere in the middle of last year, completely lost the desire to do it anymore. Herb is the same way and prefers to go at a less punishing pace. We are well matched.
I'd never ever bail on him without real reason to do it and, as he knows, I'd never ever bail on a Baldy ride (sigh), so I'm sure he knew I was sincere. Still, I commented to him that as a cyclist even the thought of bailing brings great shame. I joked, "it's almost as if you have to say 'my lung is hanging out my mouth' or 'my uterus exploded' to justify not riding." He laughed at that but I could tell he was bummed. I made him promise me he'd not ride to Baldy alone and in return I promised to ride up to Baldy with him soon. I then got off the phone and fell into a dream-filled slumber for 3 hours. I hate morning dreams as they are so jumbled and more reflective of your waking mind than night dreams, and my waking mind is not a place I want to review while trying to sleep. Needless to say, I'm still not well rested.
Adding insult to injury, it's ugly outside today, overcast, gloomy...so fitting of my mood. It would have been helpful to have sunny skies, but nothing I can do about that. I will likely ride Nellie later or drag Patsy to Griffith Park, or I may just go to the gym. Either way, my day will not be the glorious one I had planned.
March 20, 2009
don't capture it...pelt it with bananas!
Before I begin my true rant today, I want it noted that I just spent close to two hours filling out a job application online, tweaking a cover letter and applying for a position. Two hours! Yup...with all the internet postings these days, it is more often than not an utterly time-consuming process to just apply for one position, let alone several. Sigh.
Anyway, that has nothing to do with my rant, or 'insane blabbering' if you'd like, today. Not even close. Really what I want to talk about is what kept me up last night...all night long.
After a lovely dinner with friends, I was home and into bed by 11:00pm. By 11:30pm, I was painfully aware of how little sleep I'd get (I had ice tea with dinner in lieu of wine - trying to be good - and I think the caffeine may have been the initial culprit for my restless state). I decided to jump on my laptop to log onto...ready for this?...CNN News online. Yes...CNN News. I have an addiction and a real problem with that gawddim CNN and never before last night's sneak peek did I realize just how harmful it can be. After logging on to CNN News and viewing what you are about to view, I could no longer blame the caffeine in my innocuous ice tea at dinner for the slumberless hours to follow.
Warning! - do NOT watch the following video if you do not wish to have the bejesus scared right out your britches (I think I just mixed up old adages, but oh well):
(please note: the link on CNN was broken so this is the link from YouTube)
Apparently the spider was found and captured by the manager of the Whole Foods in Tulsa (give that employee a raise!). It was then sent to some professor at the university that is like a spider specialist (really now...who becomes that?). He then went on and on and on about how deadly that damn thing is and then killed it, which is now in question: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090320/ap_on_re_us/deadly_spider
Was it or was it not the Brazilian Wandering Spider that found its way into the Tulsa Whole Foods? Personally, I don't care if it was or wasn't...what I care about is that a Brazilian Wandering Spider lives at all, and, more importantly, that it wanders! And really, if you were working in a Whole Foods and you saw that damn thing sitting up on a bunch of bananas, would you grab a container and 'catch it?' Not me. As much as I try to free the spiders that wander into my apartment and believe that spiders play a vital role in our ecosystem, if I ever ran into that creature, I'd be grabbing a can of Raid and a double barrel shotgun. Or, at the very least, pelt it with bananas!
Yes, I am like a little girl in certain respects. I can't have my closet door so much as cracked an inch at night in the dark nor can my hand or foot be hanging off the side of my bed (cause the thing that lives under it might get me) and I most definitely cannot sleep with the thought that something as creepy, able to jump and bite (causing immense pain, swelling, asphixiation and death - all within under 25 minutes of being bitten) exists somewhere, anywhere in this world. Who the hell came up with that?
Oh, and by the way, I don't believe that creepy Australian spider specialist 'destroyed' that spider (I don't care if he's a professor or not, he's creepy). I bet you money he plans to breed the damn thing with a Black Widow and create a super breed of the world's truly most deadliest spiders. Seriously, what if that happened? It did in this movie , which albeit cheesy, scared the hell out of me back in 1990. I've always believed the possibility of a new species of deadly spiders could be in our future (and a very effective mass weapon of war, actually). Think me crazy if you'd like, but weirder things have happened.
And, no! This entry is not a joke. I really lost sleep over this. I tossed and turned and had nightmares (none of which were about spiders, but one was about someone trying to twist my leg in the dark). Now, I feel like ass. I might as well have had the wine.
I'm now going to get up, dress and ride to get Stephie her crickets, a ride I love to do on Nellie. I also am fairly certain that I did break my toe. But the toe is not effecting my riding, so personally, I don't care. How these two bits of info fit together is beyond me, but I figured you'd be interested in both. If not, go back and watch that video again....creeeeepppppyyyyy.
Anyway, that has nothing to do with my rant, or 'insane blabbering' if you'd like, today. Not even close. Really what I want to talk about is what kept me up last night...all night long.
After a lovely dinner with friends, I was home and into bed by 11:00pm. By 11:30pm, I was painfully aware of how little sleep I'd get (I had ice tea with dinner in lieu of wine - trying to be good - and I think the caffeine may have been the initial culprit for my restless state). I decided to jump on my laptop to log onto...ready for this?...CNN News online. Yes...CNN News. I have an addiction and a real problem with that gawddim CNN and never before last night's sneak peek did I realize just how harmful it can be. After logging on to CNN News and viewing what you are about to view, I could no longer blame the caffeine in my innocuous ice tea at dinner for the slumberless hours to follow.
Warning! - do NOT watch the following video if you do not wish to have the bejesus scared right out your britches (I think I just mixed up old adages, but oh well):
(please note: the link on CNN was broken so this is the link from YouTube)
Apparently the spider was found and captured by the manager of the Whole Foods in Tulsa (give that employee a raise!). It was then sent to some professor at the university that is like a spider specialist (really now...who becomes that?). He then went on and on and on about how deadly that damn thing is and then killed it, which is now in question: http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090320/ap_on_re_us/deadly_spider
Was it or was it not the Brazilian Wandering Spider that found its way into the Tulsa Whole Foods? Personally, I don't care if it was or wasn't...what I care about is that a Brazilian Wandering Spider lives at all, and, more importantly, that it wanders! And really, if you were working in a Whole Foods and you saw that damn thing sitting up on a bunch of bananas, would you grab a container and 'catch it?' Not me. As much as I try to free the spiders that wander into my apartment and believe that spiders play a vital role in our ecosystem, if I ever ran into that creature, I'd be grabbing a can of Raid and a double barrel shotgun. Or, at the very least, pelt it with bananas!
Yes, I am like a little girl in certain respects. I can't have my closet door so much as cracked an inch at night in the dark nor can my hand or foot be hanging off the side of my bed (cause the thing that lives under it might get me) and I most definitely cannot sleep with the thought that something as creepy, able to jump and bite (causing immense pain, swelling, asphixiation and death - all within under 25 minutes of being bitten) exists somewhere, anywhere in this world. Who the hell came up with that?
Oh, and by the way, I don't believe that creepy Australian spider specialist 'destroyed' that spider (I don't care if he's a professor or not, he's creepy). I bet you money he plans to breed the damn thing with a Black Widow and create a super breed of the world's truly most deadliest spiders. Seriously, what if that happened? It did in this movie , which albeit cheesy, scared the hell out of me back in 1990. I've always believed the possibility of a new species of deadly spiders could be in our future (and a very effective mass weapon of war, actually). Think me crazy if you'd like, but weirder things have happened.
And, no! This entry is not a joke. I really lost sleep over this. I tossed and turned and had nightmares (none of which were about spiders, but one was about someone trying to twist my leg in the dark). Now, I feel like ass. I might as well have had the wine.
I'm now going to get up, dress and ride to get Stephie her crickets, a ride I love to do on Nellie. I also am fairly certain that I did break my toe. But the toe is not effecting my riding, so personally, I don't care. How these two bits of info fit together is beyond me, but I figured you'd be interested in both. If not, go back and watch that video again....creeeeepppppyyyyy.
March 19, 2009
I hate working out at the gym...(really)
Now get this, I am a member of a very nice gym in a very nice area (where I live, actually) with a pretty nice crowd (other than one dude yelling "I said I love you baby, I love you!" into his cell phone this afternoon, the folks in the weight room were really rather mellow). My gym is bright, cheery, very large with two levels of weight rooms, plenty of stretchy mat areas, clean(ish) and actually has a sound system set to a volume that isn't annoying. The owners validate parking for two hours and there is plenty of street parking if you wish to bench press for longer than that. B.O. is too a minimum (in fact, I think I may have been the stinkiest today, truthfully) and my membership, best of all, is completely paid up for three years. It doesn't cost me a dime to go. So, you'd think that I'd love this gym...but I don't. I hate it.
I use to love the gym (any gym for that matter) and working out with weights. I use to look forward to going, sweating and being around other fit folks in tight attire (men, bring it on!), but now I dread it. It's like pulling teeth to get me to go and once I'm there, I'm over it within 45 minutes. I have a jump rope and I put in a solid effort today, but I just wasn't focused or really all that motivated. Instead, I saw the pretty sunlight out the windows (oh, did I mention that this gym has ginormous windows?) and all I could think was, 'I could have ridden today.' Yup. I'm becoming one of those cyclists. The kind who thinks he/she can get all his/her workout needs met in the saddle. WRONG!
In fact, today I noticed a drop in my fitness level and muscle conditioning. My legs aren't as toned. Even with the increased riding I've been doing of (my unemployed) late, my shape is actually less defined because I've been foregoing the weights. Sigh. Now, I know from years of working out, that it doesn't take long to regain any muscle your body loses (those muscles have a memory), and it takes even less time to re-lose any gains you've made. It's a cruel trick that nature plays on us to ensure that we move our booties...as in 'move it or lose it.' I'm losing it so now, I have to move it.
Somehow, I've got to gain my love relationship with the gym back and I think the only way to do it is to follow a routine again. I use to get up at 5am and head to the gym before work. Granted, in the last six months of my employment at my past company, I was so depressed, stressed and scared (of losing my job) that I was rarely motivated to hit the gym and didn't follow my routine perfectly. But I did still go. Since I've been a bum, I've been behaving as one and not going but once a week - gasp! That is not enough to improve and barely enough to maintain. So, back to the gym I go...hi ho, hi ho.
And I'll hate every minute of it and I'll bitch about it ad nauseam on here...until I see that definition in my legs again. Then, I'll be singing a different tune, I'm sure.
I use to love the gym (any gym for that matter) and working out with weights. I use to look forward to going, sweating and being around other fit folks in tight attire (men, bring it on!), but now I dread it. It's like pulling teeth to get me to go and once I'm there, I'm over it within 45 minutes. I have a jump rope and I put in a solid effort today, but I just wasn't focused or really all that motivated. Instead, I saw the pretty sunlight out the windows (oh, did I mention that this gym has ginormous windows?) and all I could think was, 'I could have ridden today.' Yup. I'm becoming one of those cyclists. The kind who thinks he/she can get all his/her workout needs met in the saddle. WRONG!
In fact, today I noticed a drop in my fitness level and muscle conditioning. My legs aren't as toned. Even with the increased riding I've been doing of (my unemployed) late, my shape is actually less defined because I've been foregoing the weights. Sigh. Now, I know from years of working out, that it doesn't take long to regain any muscle your body loses (those muscles have a memory), and it takes even less time to re-lose any gains you've made. It's a cruel trick that nature plays on us to ensure that we move our booties...as in 'move it or lose it.' I'm losing it so now, I have to move it.
Somehow, I've got to gain my love relationship with the gym back and I think the only way to do it is to follow a routine again. I use to get up at 5am and head to the gym before work. Granted, in the last six months of my employment at my past company, I was so depressed, stressed and scared (of losing my job) that I was rarely motivated to hit the gym and didn't follow my routine perfectly. But I did still go. Since I've been a bum, I've been behaving as one and not going but once a week - gasp! That is not enough to improve and barely enough to maintain. So, back to the gym I go...hi ho, hi ho.
And I'll hate every minute of it and I'll bitch about it ad nauseam on here...until I see that definition in my legs again. Then, I'll be singing a different tune, I'm sure.
I hate night riding...(not really)
Before I begin, I will state unequivocally that I love to night ride. Night riding is a temporary panacea for all things troubling during the light of day. Moving through open air on dark roads with nothing more than a single orb of light before your front wheel is hypnotic...at least, for me it is. I think my brightest and darkest thoughts throughout these rides, often gaining clarity or at least making peace with my current woes. Sound dramatic? Yeah, well, it is. Go ride your bike at night in a canyon with nothing more than a few coyotes and deer (and a riding partner) to keep you company, away from the city and the cars and the crap, and you will likely be nodding your head enthusiastically to my description above should you come back and read it a second time. Night riding is the schnizzle.
However, because I'm half blind (at night anyway) and often ditzy (blame the hair color, everyone else does), night riding can pose issues for me. Okay, I pose issues for myself and not the night ride, but because it's easier to blame the activity than myself, I do just that. And Herb is the one who gets to hear it (lucky Herb). Take last night's ride, for instance.
However, because I'm half blind (at night anyway) and often ditzy (blame the hair color, everyone else does), night riding can pose issues for me. Okay, I pose issues for myself and not the night ride, but because it's easier to blame the activity than myself, I do just that. And Herb is the one who gets to hear it (lucky Herb). Take last night's ride, for instance.
I met Herb at his curb (which I have nicknamed The Hub), and we took off into late afternoon sun, which slowly melted from the sky casting a golden glow down over the hills as we climbed. It was our usual route up Trash Truck Hill, which I huffed and puffed up. I had nothing in my legs yesterday and felt like a fattened goose (I even called myself that later in the evening when we had our one and only coyote encounter). Herb easily dropped me and took the hill with ease (and then promptly lied and said that the climb damn near killed him, the frickin' sandbagger that he is). Trash Truck Hill always kicks my butt and I'm use to it, so by the time I hopped the gate on Mt. Hollywood Canyon, I was happy to just be up the hill at all!
The canyon climb was spectacular last night. Mostly because of that graceful sun setting so gently down over the valley at the same time a gossamer haze began to fill the air below the hill. This invoked a dreamy view, almost as if from some film set. I kept interrupting our climb to snap pics, but Herb said he didn't mind. He's been a photographer in his life and appreciates my little amateur attempts to capture the beauty we often are treated to while riding in southern California. I was elated with my mood improving every pedal stroke. I've been in a sour mood this week (you know the same, sad jobless saga, so no need to expound) and needed this ride more than I had realized.
As we avoided the many potholes in the canyon road and were passed by several riders (both descending and ascending), we agreed that bringing our mountain bikes for next week's ride is a must. I think riding Nellie in that canyon will be a treat. Yes, she's a heavier bike (making the workout more intense) but her knobbies and gearing will be welcomed. That's really my only fear (well, that and being eaten by a coyote, mountain lion or wayward rabbits) on the Griffith Park night ride - being taken out by a stupid pothole or patch of sand. The flip side to those roads being in such disrepair is that cars are not allowed up that canyon (excepting rangers and park officials), so I'll take the trade off and just watch it on the descents. This is where knobbies will come in handy and it will be so nice to cross those holes and pavement fissures with ease of mind!
By the time we began our climb up to the Observatory, the sun was gasping her final breath for the day. We didn't need lights (or arm warmers) for the full trip up to the Observatory, but it was becoming obvious that we would need them for the trip home. It was very peaceful at the top, and although the Observatory had it's telescope viewing of some star last night (Herb pointed it out in the sky for me because, like I said, I'm half blind), there was no traffic congestion to be had, thankfully. It was at the top that we decided we'd take the exact route back, down through the empty and now pitch black canyon.
Here is where the ride turned somber for me, which is not necessarily a bad thing. With the warmth of the sun drained from the hills and the haze now overtaking the sky, the canyon suddenly felt ominous to me and the chill in the air foreboding. I concentrated on just descending that same pot-holed and broken canyon road we'd just climbed, trying to keep up with Herb. I've lost my courage to descend at a fast pace in the last two years for a variety of reasons, and I never descend Mt. Hollywood fast. It's that one wayward rock that can cause you a world of hurt if you hit it at the wrong angle and speed. But I also don't like the dark closing in behind me on that hill and I kept hollering at Herb (whom I think couldn't hear me over the wind), "don't leave me, Herbie!" Of course, Herb never would leave me (or anyone for that matter - that's just not heard of with him), so I needn't have worried, but as I mentioned earlier in this post, we had already had one coyote encounter, and I secretly feared another one!
We made it to the bottom gate and hopped it back out onto Trash Truck Hill without incident. Herb then asked if I'd be willing to turn right (in lieu of left) and take a full loop around the park home. I was tired at this point but I could see in Herb's eyes that he'd not ridden enough, and given that he often let's me have my way, I agreed to ride longer. It was now past 8pm (something neither of us realized) and so pitch black, I wondered if we'd entered an episode of The Twilight Zone.
As we rode along, we were silent (except for an occasional "how you doing?" inquiry, something we both do just to make sure the other person is hanging with the ride okay). During this last 45 minutes of riding, I got lost completely in my thoughts. My legs were toast and I was breathing harder than I liked (I also had a tad bit of an asthmatic episode last night, coughing like crazy and needing a puff of Albeuterol). I could hear my heart beating and I really thought about just being alive in the moment. I also thought about my life and the same concerns I've been grappling with of late nagged me. What do I want to do? Beyond the obvious, get a job, what will make me happy? Did I find an answer while pedaling in the dark chilled air? No. If anything, the ride at that point became a metaphor for my state of mind.
As we turned onto Herb's street and arrived back at The Hub, I realized how tired I truly was. Well, duh! We got back at 9:00pm, a tad later than usual. Herb's wife was there, and I scurried to put my lights away and my bike up on the rack so that I could go visit with her. She's such a sweetheart, and just talking to her always helps. The conversation was brief, though, as she and Herb had to get up for work today. I left them with a hug and a wave and sped home to the tune of Hotel California on the radio (I sing along like some hound howling).
Then...at home, as I unloaded Patsy from the rack, the unthinkable had happened! I always carry my drivers license and two Visas (one being my ATM card!) with me on rides just in case I ever have an emergency and need to call a cab, buy something (like a wheel) or get stranded and need to stay at a hotel. It's a habit I have and usually I remember to pull my cards out as I pull my key out from my bag. Well, last night, in the dark and in a hurry, I pulled my key out, loosening the cards from their position in the bag holder and forgot to zip the saddle bag. You can guess it - those cards flew out from the saddle bag as I drove home. Gawddimmit!
I called Herb, less panicked than just so annoyed. He agreed to go look out on his curb (I felt terrible asking him to do it), and the cards were not there. To this news I said in my butt-cheek-clinched, snarky voice, "this is why I hate night riding!" (imagine my chubby face contorted into a part sneer....real attractive). Herb didn't reply to this. I thanked him, said goodnight and then promptly called my bank to cancel (and have replaced) both cards. I will receive them in 5 to 7 business days. I couldn't risk someone finding those cards and using them.
Then...this morning I had a thought - 'why not go look for the cards?' Really, I just wanted my drivers license back. That's a PITA to replace, let me tell you (I looked up the process and it involves money, a thumb print, a new picture and, worst of all, a trip to the DMV). So, I jumped in my car and drove to The Hub and up and down the street. Sure enough, there, on the side of the road covered in leaves and dirt were my cards, most importantly, my drivers license!!!! Yippee and phew! Well, lesson learned.
I then called Herb and apologized for saying, "I hate night riding" in response to my own foolish, dumbass mistake. To this he replied, "I knew that was coming." Oh...oops. I guess I've said that before. Well, I retract it, cause it isn't true!
March 18, 2009
please wear a helmet
I don't know Natasha Richardson personally but have always been a fan of hers. She's such a consummate actress and class act. As is her husband, Liam Neeson. I've been glued to the TV waiting to hear updated reports on her condition. From the reports this morning, Ms. Richardson will doubtfully recover from her brain injury. That's heartbreaking, to say the least, and terrible news for her family.
In the aftermath of this tragic accident, the debate on helmet use has already begun. Assuming Ms. Richardson's injuries were a direct result of her fall on the ski slope in Quebec, a burning question does arise- could this tragedy have been completely avoided if she had been wearing a helmet?
Helmets aren't required by law for skiers, snowboarders or cyclists, actually, but they are readily available for anyone to use. They are there to help protect us should we fall and hit our heads and it never ceases to amaze (and annoy) me when folks argue against their use. Yes, people argue this all the time and it's a topical issue given the popularity of sports like skiing and cycling. The Hungry Cyclist (who's site I really enjoy) just featured a blog entry on this subject the other day. I commented on his site, providing my exact thoughts on this topic based on my own personal experience. I never ride without a helmet...ever. And the one time (and only time) I attempted snowboarding, I wore a helmet then as well. And as I've relayed on here, I have good reason to believe in the necessity of helmet use.
I'm thoroughly convinced that had I not been wearing a helmet when I crashed in January of last year, I'd not be the same person I am now. I would have likely been badly injured if not, in fact, killed. Whether this is true for Ms. Richardson as well remains to be seen, but personally, I wish the outcome had been different for her.
Whether you're a cyclist, a skier, a snowboarder, a rollerblader or any other athlete who could potentially suffer a brain injury should your head hit the ground at a speed faster than your own two feet can carry you....please wear a helmet. Helmets may not always save lives, but they can and do often make the difference between someone walking away unharmed, or, as in the case of Ms. Richardson, being gravely injured.
I'll say it again, please wear a helmet.
In the aftermath of this tragic accident, the debate on helmet use has already begun. Assuming Ms. Richardson's injuries were a direct result of her fall on the ski slope in Quebec, a burning question does arise- could this tragedy have been completely avoided if she had been wearing a helmet?
Helmets aren't required by law for skiers, snowboarders or cyclists, actually, but they are readily available for anyone to use. They are there to help protect us should we fall and hit our heads and it never ceases to amaze (and annoy) me when folks argue against their use. Yes, people argue this all the time and it's a topical issue given the popularity of sports like skiing and cycling. The Hungry Cyclist (who's site I really enjoy) just featured a blog entry on this subject the other day. I commented on his site, providing my exact thoughts on this topic based on my own personal experience. I never ride without a helmet...ever. And the one time (and only time) I attempted snowboarding, I wore a helmet then as well. And as I've relayed on here, I have good reason to believe in the necessity of helmet use.
I'm thoroughly convinced that had I not been wearing a helmet when I crashed in January of last year, I'd not be the same person I am now. I would have likely been badly injured if not, in fact, killed. Whether this is true for Ms. Richardson as well remains to be seen, but personally, I wish the outcome had been different for her.
Whether you're a cyclist, a skier, a snowboarder, a rollerblader or any other athlete who could potentially suffer a brain injury should your head hit the ground at a speed faster than your own two feet can carry you....please wear a helmet. Helmets may not always save lives, but they can and do often make the difference between someone walking away unharmed, or, as in the case of Ms. Richardson, being gravely injured.
I'll say it again, please wear a helmet.
March 17, 2009
grandiloquent persuasive language
Before I get to my (pseudo) rant, I want to wish everyone a Happy St. Patrick's Day. I'm depressed (not really, but that sounds dramatic and fitting, so...). Why? Because I am not at a crowded Irish Pub with my best friend getting rip roaring drunk off of green beer and Jagermeister shots like we did in our 20s. Okay, we never spent the whole day at a pub, but seeing as how I'm unemployed, don't you think that would be like the most amazing way to spend the day? I do - hell, hanging with 20 somethings all dressed in green with buttons on that read 'Kiss me, I'm Irish' and getting plastered all day sounds downright fantastic to me. However, my BF doesn't want to go (she's got that work thing she's doing) and I'm not going alone (I'm part Irish and can hold my liquor; so, just imagine the trouble I could get into...or diseases I could pick up). And since I don't really like beer all that much, I won't be sitting at home drinking alone. Sigh. I guess it's a gym day instead. I feel so old.
I'm also a little down cause Dad, who is full Irish (or so he says), is making Corned Beef and Cabbage (CB&C) today. Well, Mom is the one actually making it this year (he normally does), but I'm sure it will still be a mouth full of salty warm goodness that I'm not getting any of. Dad offered yesterday on the phone to overnight me a Corned Beef sandwich. Years ago, he overnighted a slice of my Grandmother's pecan pie (she no longer makes it, but when she did, it was the best in the world, kind of like 'crack-cocaine-pecan-pie' actually). I was sure it would be inedible when it arrived but I was wrong. I ate it straight out of the FedEx box and licked my fingers in front of all of my then coworkers. However, a Corned Beef sandwich overnighted could prove problematic for the FedEx employees. Imagine the stench? I convinced Dad that an overnighted Corned Beef sandwich was out of the question, and I'll just have to wish for it. I would go out and just order some CB&C at an Irish Pub, but read the first paragraph in this entry again...not a good idea to go alone.
Thus, no green beer, CB&C or strange man in my bed for me today. Nope. None of that. But I wish everyone else a good day of it, nonetheless.
Now, to my rant. I have to address this as it's something eating at me (and millions of other Americans). The whole AIG bonus debacle is bad enough (and I'm delighted to be watching CNN News reports today of how the government is threatening the bonus receivers with a tax that will strip them of the bonus they received if they do not return those bonuses voluntarily), but then we have dumbass Iowa Senator, Charles Grassley, providing what he calls 'rhetoric,' telling the AIG executives who received those bonuses to either resign (great idea!) or commit suicide (um...not so great). You may have read or heard, but here's a link:
http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/03/16/iowa-senator-says-aig-executives-resign-commit-suicide/
Now, I'm all for rhetoric and, at times, I myself can insert inappropriate hyperbole into my opinions and suggestions, especially when impassioned by a particular subject. But I'm not a Senator and really, no one ever listens to me anyway. But Senator Grassley should know better and should know that suggesting something that outrageous will incite anger among the masses. Today on CNN, they interviewed him (sorry, I can't find that clip online yet to link). In the interview, the reporter asked Senator Grassley if he was contrite in the least for suggesting that folks should 'off themselves' in shame considering that, oh, some very desperate Americans have actually killed themselves of late due to our economic times and, well, shouldn't he (Grassley) be a tad bit more sensitive? Kid you not, Senator Grassley smirked and said, "People should understand when something said is rhetoric." (not verbatim but darn close)
Huh? Does this Senator live in America? Better yet, does he really live in Iowa - middle of mid- middle America? We folks don't get no rhetoric, mister Senator. We're a nation of reality show junkies in which men and women alike threaten to beat the crap out of one another over some ho hitting on another ho's man. We're the Americans who cut funding for public schools by the millions, lay off thousands of teachers and then wonder why our children can't recite the alphabet. We're the Americans that are so dumbed down, I'm not sure anyone knows how to spell rhetoric, let alone understand what that means. And forgive me, but I don't really agree that suggesting AIG executives do like the Japanese do and either come out to bow in an expression of a deep apology (yeah, like anyone in America would buy that crap) or resign from their positions...or...go kill themselves is rhetoric (or, at least in the way I believe he means rhetoric). I don't quite follow. Hmmm.
Okay, here are some definitions of rhetoric from two different sources:
Wikkipedia (oh, shush, it is too a valid source and for so many reasons...you figure it out):
Rhetoric - is the art of using language as a means to persuade.
Wesbter online: (happy now?):
Rhetoric:
1: the art of speaking or writing effectively: as a: the study of principles and rules of composition formulated by critics of ancient times b: the study of writing or speaking as a means of communication or persuasion
2 a: skill in the effective use of speech b: a type or mode of language or speech ; also : insincere or grandiloquent language
3: verbal communication
Now, I imagine that Senator Grassley meant rhetoric as defined in definition 2. b. But I ask you, which definitions appear first? Most folks who do know what rhetoric means, might think it is more the use of language to persuade than an insincere or grandiloquent language (cause we all walk around knowing what grandiloquent means?). Therefore, I found it appalling that the senator would insist that suggesting (persuading, perhaps?) that these AIG employees go kill themselves is just mere rhetoric. He might as well have just said (dumbed down for the masses) "Yo, I was just like trying to tell them greedy bastards to kill themselves cause they've taken our money....those dudes are using bailout tax money... to fatten their wallets." Then he can call it for what it is - speaking with angry hyperbole (exaggerated language, yo) to make a point.
As mad as I am about the AIG situation and as down as I do get about this country's present state (as well as my own), I would never agree with asking, suggesting or persuading others to kill themselves even if I thought I was just using strong language to make a point. It's offensive, counter productive, and in my view, mob mentality - something the leaders in our country shouldn't do. Unless, they really want true mob mentality and that's something I won't joke about. I see this behavior coming to fruition in this country if the spiral down continues. Apparently, Steve Colbert agrees:
I laughed at the above video but not without a little shiver. Cause, um, that's true rhetoric right there...grandiloquent persuasive language that, although made in jest, is a little more reflective of what I think Senator Grassley meant and what this country may be headed to if things don't turn around soon. Now, I wonder if there is a sale on pitchforks this week at Home Depot.
I'm also a little down cause Dad, who is full Irish (or so he says), is making Corned Beef and Cabbage (CB&C) today. Well, Mom is the one actually making it this year (he normally does), but I'm sure it will still be a mouth full of salty warm goodness that I'm not getting any of. Dad offered yesterday on the phone to overnight me a Corned Beef sandwich. Years ago, he overnighted a slice of my Grandmother's pecan pie (she no longer makes it, but when she did, it was the best in the world, kind of like 'crack-cocaine-pecan-pie' actually). I was sure it would be inedible when it arrived but I was wrong. I ate it straight out of the FedEx box and licked my fingers in front of all of my then coworkers. However, a Corned Beef sandwich overnighted could prove problematic for the FedEx employees. Imagine the stench? I convinced Dad that an overnighted Corned Beef sandwich was out of the question, and I'll just have to wish for it. I would go out and just order some CB&C at an Irish Pub, but read the first paragraph in this entry again...not a good idea to go alone.
Thus, no green beer, CB&C or strange man in my bed for me today. Nope. None of that. But I wish everyone else a good day of it, nonetheless.
Now, to my rant. I have to address this as it's something eating at me (and millions of other Americans). The whole AIG bonus debacle is bad enough (and I'm delighted to be watching CNN News reports today of how the government is threatening the bonus receivers with a tax that will strip them of the bonus they received if they do not return those bonuses voluntarily), but then we have dumbass Iowa Senator, Charles Grassley, providing what he calls 'rhetoric,' telling the AIG executives who received those bonuses to either resign (great idea!) or commit suicide (um...not so great). You may have read or heard, but here's a link:
http://www.foxnews.com/politics/2009/03/16/iowa-senator-says-aig-executives-resign-commit-suicide/
Now, I'm all for rhetoric and, at times, I myself can insert inappropriate hyperbole into my opinions and suggestions, especially when impassioned by a particular subject. But I'm not a Senator and really, no one ever listens to me anyway. But Senator Grassley should know better and should know that suggesting something that outrageous will incite anger among the masses. Today on CNN, they interviewed him (sorry, I can't find that clip online yet to link). In the interview, the reporter asked Senator Grassley if he was contrite in the least for suggesting that folks should 'off themselves' in shame considering that, oh, some very desperate Americans have actually killed themselves of late due to our economic times and, well, shouldn't he (Grassley) be a tad bit more sensitive? Kid you not, Senator Grassley smirked and said, "People should understand when something said is rhetoric." (not verbatim but darn close)
Huh? Does this Senator live in America? Better yet, does he really live in Iowa - middle of mid- middle America? We folks don't get no rhetoric, mister Senator. We're a nation of reality show junkies in which men and women alike threaten to beat the crap out of one another over some ho hitting on another ho's man. We're the Americans who cut funding for public schools by the millions, lay off thousands of teachers and then wonder why our children can't recite the alphabet. We're the Americans that are so dumbed down, I'm not sure anyone knows how to spell rhetoric, let alone understand what that means. And forgive me, but I don't really agree that suggesting AIG executives do like the Japanese do and either come out to bow in an expression of a deep apology (yeah, like anyone in America would buy that crap) or resign from their positions...or...go kill themselves is rhetoric (or, at least in the way I believe he means rhetoric). I don't quite follow. Hmmm.
Okay, here are some definitions of rhetoric from two different sources:
Wikkipedia (oh, shush, it is too a valid source and for so many reasons...you figure it out):
Rhetoric - is the art of using language as a means to persuade.
Wesbter online: (happy now?):
Rhetoric:
1: the art of speaking or writing effectively: as a: the study of principles and rules of composition formulated by critics of ancient times b: the study of writing or speaking as a means of communication or persuasion
2 a: skill in the effective use of speech b: a type or mode of language or speech ; also : insincere or grandiloquent language
3: verbal communication
Now, I imagine that Senator Grassley meant rhetoric as defined in definition 2. b. But I ask you, which definitions appear first? Most folks who do know what rhetoric means, might think it is more the use of language to persuade than an insincere or grandiloquent language (cause we all walk around knowing what grandiloquent means?). Therefore, I found it appalling that the senator would insist that suggesting (persuading, perhaps?) that these AIG employees go kill themselves is just mere rhetoric. He might as well have just said (dumbed down for the masses) "Yo, I was just like trying to tell them greedy bastards to kill themselves cause they've taken our money....those dudes are using bailout tax money... to fatten their wallets." Then he can call it for what it is - speaking with angry hyperbole (exaggerated language, yo) to make a point.
As mad as I am about the AIG situation and as down as I do get about this country's present state (as well as my own), I would never agree with asking, suggesting or persuading others to kill themselves even if I thought I was just using strong language to make a point. It's offensive, counter productive, and in my view, mob mentality - something the leaders in our country shouldn't do. Unless, they really want true mob mentality and that's something I won't joke about. I see this behavior coming to fruition in this country if the spiral down continues. Apparently, Steve Colbert agrees:
I laughed at the above video but not without a little shiver. Cause, um, that's true rhetoric right there...grandiloquent persuasive language that, although made in jest, is a little more reflective of what I think Senator Grassley meant and what this country may be headed to if things don't turn around soon. Now, I wonder if there is a sale on pitchforks this week at Home Depot.
March 16, 2009
I think I broke my toe
Last night, after the day's fun and excitement, I got it in my head that I'd do a few things around the place (just my usual chores). I was determined that this week would be uber-job searching week and I'd kick the job hunting's ass, booyah! So, I was puttering about, straightening up piles of mail, putting my dirty (and stinky) cycling clothes in the laundry and moving my dining room table chairs out to vacuum when my cell phone rang. My cell phone ringtone is Baby's Got Back by Sir Mixalot, which I feel is my theme song (have you seen what's back there? I got it.) Anyway, I didn't want to hear the lyrics and found it annoying for some reason (the volume was too high, for one thing) so I dashed to grab it. As I did, my left foot, the second little toe to be exact, hit dead on into one of the legs on my dining room table.
If you've never stubbed your toe, you cannot possibly appreciate the excruciating pain, the 'urine leaking' reaction to this pain, or the clammy nausea that accompanies this pain. I can promise you, without ever having given birth, that stubbing one's toes is worse than squeezing a six pound cantaloupe out of your honeybox (assuming you have one). Men, think 'balls pressed by a hot iron' to relate. It's simply horrible....and I even have a very high tolerance for pain! If I didn't, I think I would have passed out. It took two hours for the throbbing to stop, and I had difficulty sleeping since my toe couldn't even tolerate a sheet grazing it (yet it was too cold to put my foot out from under the covers).
This morning when I looked at my toe, it was swollen and blue. Part of the nail had fallen off (I don't know where that nail part is either...ewwww!). Where is the pic of this toe, you ask? For once, I didn't think of exploiting some part of myself on the web - go figure -and didn't even think of snapping a pic. Instead, I pondered whether I should go to Urgent Care. I decided to 'wait and see.' Now, as I type, the swelling has gone down and the toe just looks purple. I'm still not going to snap a pic and post it, cause my toenails look awful (I'm between pedicures). Sorry, vanity wins. I can't feel the damn thing, though. It's entirely numb. I guess it's fine, and I did not seek medical care. Besides, it's just a toe. If it falls off, I have 11 more to choose from.
On another note, today was bleh...bleh, bleh, bleh. I got nothing done. I job searched but didn't kick any ass as there was no ass to kick (same listings as yesterday when I job searched...sigh). I also had no motivation to do anything. My body was just exhausted from so much riding this weekend, so my gym plans went out the window (I guess today will be 'recovery day'). The most I did today was make myself a curry chicken with peas and couscous dish (with fat free yogurt) that was out-of-this world delicious. Otherwise, bleh.
Well that's not true...there was one shining moment today. Today, March 16th, was my beautiful sister's birthday. She's so wonderful. I called her up and sang Happy Birthday to her in my silly voice (it goes something like this: "Hap-pppppppppyyyy Bbbbbbb-birth-ddddddd-day to you-woo-woo-woo...") . She pretends to love it every year, and I love her for that. She had a fantastic day and I could hear in her voice how happy she is. She deserves it, as she's had some rough years behind her. I may blog on her life at some point, but only if I get her permission (and really, I wish she'd blog or write on it herself!). She makes me look like a perpetual whiner, let me tell you...and she truly had reason to celebrate today (her job is going great and she got best Karate student of the month at her Karate studio - she's a green belt and can kick my ass). She also said something to me that truly touched me, "now don't forget," (in her southern drawl) "that you got family...family that won't just leave you stranded. I know you don't want it to ever get to that, but know it just the same." I teared up but didn't let it show in my voice. "Thanks, JT. I love you," was my only reply.
I must remember to ask Dad to take some current photos of her so I can post them. She's a looker that girl, with eyes as large, round and green as lusciously ripe olives. If there is one thing that I am truly bummed about with losing my job, it's that I'm not going home this 4th of July. JT and I hang out on my visits home, and I guess this year's visit will just have to be postponed.
If you've never stubbed your toe, you cannot possibly appreciate the excruciating pain, the 'urine leaking' reaction to this pain, or the clammy nausea that accompanies this pain. I can promise you, without ever having given birth, that stubbing one's toes is worse than squeezing a six pound cantaloupe out of your honeybox (assuming you have one). Men, think 'balls pressed by a hot iron' to relate. It's simply horrible....and I even have a very high tolerance for pain! If I didn't, I think I would have passed out. It took two hours for the throbbing to stop, and I had difficulty sleeping since my toe couldn't even tolerate a sheet grazing it (yet it was too cold to put my foot out from under the covers).
This morning when I looked at my toe, it was swollen and blue. Part of the nail had fallen off (I don't know where that nail part is either...ewwww!). Where is the pic of this toe, you ask? For once, I didn't think of exploiting some part of myself on the web - go figure -and didn't even think of snapping a pic. Instead, I pondered whether I should go to Urgent Care. I decided to 'wait and see.' Now, as I type, the swelling has gone down and the toe just looks purple. I'm still not going to snap a pic and post it, cause my toenails look awful (I'm between pedicures). Sorry, vanity wins. I can't feel the damn thing, though. It's entirely numb. I guess it's fine, and I did not seek medical care. Besides, it's just a toe. If it falls off, I have 11 more to choose from.
On another note, today was bleh...bleh, bleh, bleh. I got nothing done. I job searched but didn't kick any ass as there was no ass to kick (same listings as yesterday when I job searched...sigh). I also had no motivation to do anything. My body was just exhausted from so much riding this weekend, so my gym plans went out the window (I guess today will be 'recovery day'). The most I did today was make myself a curry chicken with peas and couscous dish (with fat free yogurt) that was out-of-this world delicious. Otherwise, bleh.
Well that's not true...there was one shining moment today. Today, March 16th, was my beautiful sister's birthday. She's so wonderful. I called her up and sang Happy Birthday to her in my silly voice (it goes something like this: "Hap-pppppppppyyyy Bbbbbbb-birth-ddddddd-day to you-woo-woo-woo...") . She pretends to love it every year, and I love her for that. She had a fantastic day and I could hear in her voice how happy she is. She deserves it, as she's had some rough years behind her. I may blog on her life at some point, but only if I get her permission (and really, I wish she'd blog or write on it herself!). She makes me look like a perpetual whiner, let me tell you...and she truly had reason to celebrate today (her job is going great and she got best Karate student of the month at her Karate studio - she's a green belt and can kick my ass). She also said something to me that truly touched me, "now don't forget," (in her southern drawl) "that you got family...family that won't just leave you stranded. I know you don't want it to ever get to that, but know it just the same." I teared up but didn't let it show in my voice. "Thanks, JT. I love you," was my only reply.
I must remember to ask Dad to take some current photos of her so I can post them. She's a looker that girl, with eyes as large, round and green as lusciously ripe olives. If there is one thing that I am truly bummed about with losing my job, it's that I'm not going home this 4th of July. JT and I hang out on my visits home, and I guess this year's visit will just have to be postponed.
March 15, 2009
someday I may attempt it
Fargo Hill Street Climb (the current record at the time I'm typing this is 101 times up the hill - but likely that was bested today) is a climb up some ridiculous grade (33%). I'd have attempted it (not) after riding 100 miles in Solvang yesterday, but I was too tired. As if! Pretty good excuse, hmm? Except that this 'excuse' didn't stop others....like Steve Gilmore who climbed it 101 times last year and ?? times this year (we'll know tomorrow). He rode a tandem on the same ride I rode yesterday...103 miles of it. Yeah, that was a 'warm up' for him! Anyway, today a group of us rode to the Fargo Hill Street Climb, not that any of us (in my group) attempted the climb, including yours truly (I'm not that crazy!). Our sole purpose of riding up there was to watch and support others.
It was the usual suspects (Herb, The Colonel, The Lobsters, Tom) plus Linda, Debbie and Nina, a friend of mine I'd not seen in awhile and whom I'd missed. It also included a newbie, Jeff, who was a character (in the fun way) and perfect fit with the group. I love that and hope he'll join on future rides for sure. Last but not least, Ron joined (No Cal visitor), perfectly rounding out the group with his humor and strong legs - he hung with the testosterone creatures (i.e. men) today. I'm always happy to have Ron join.
We rode from the Zoo parking lot in Griffith Park up to Fargo Street (via the LA River Path, Fletcher, Riverside Drive and Alessandro Drive) and back. We ended the ride with a brunch at Patty's in Toluca Lake. Although I was tired, I loved the festivities today. Rosalie (so hot) and Pete (so sweet) were the two Adobo Velo peeps I knew climbing today - but many Adobo Peeps were representing! Francis (of Tour de Francis and my friend) was there of course, but not climbing as he'd messed up his foot (not good). Sassy (my sweet friend) and her boyfriend, Gerald, were there. He climbed Fargo Hill Street three times and I was proud of him.
I saw a few more peeps including my friend, Shai, whom I always enjoy seeing and many other hard asses out attempting that hill. Great day (even if I am pooped now) and great event. Someday I may attempt it...um...well, 'may' is the operative word!
turn off Tunes volume on sidebar to hear videos
It was the usual suspects (Herb, The Colonel, The Lobsters, Tom) plus Linda, Debbie and Nina, a friend of mine I'd not seen in awhile and whom I'd missed. It also included a newbie, Jeff, who was a character (in the fun way) and perfect fit with the group. I love that and hope he'll join on future rides for sure. Last but not least, Ron joined (No Cal visitor), perfectly rounding out the group with his humor and strong legs - he hung with the testosterone creatures (i.e. men) today. I'm always happy to have Ron join.
We rode from the Zoo parking lot in Griffith Park up to Fargo Street (via the LA River Path, Fletcher, Riverside Drive and Alessandro Drive) and back. We ended the ride with a brunch at Patty's in Toluca Lake. Although I was tired, I loved the festivities today. Rosalie (so hot) and Pete (so sweet) were the two Adobo Velo peeps I knew climbing today - but many Adobo Peeps were representing! Francis (of Tour de Francis and my friend) was there of course, but not climbing as he'd messed up his foot (not good). Sassy (my sweet friend) and her boyfriend, Gerald, were there. He climbed Fargo Hill Street three times and I was proud of him.
I saw a few more peeps including my friend, Shai, whom I always enjoy seeing and many other hard asses out attempting that hill. Great day (even if I am pooped now) and great event. Someday I may attempt it...um...well, 'may' is the operative word!
turn off Tunes volume on sidebar to hear videos
Photos from the day are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/merider/sets/72157615324509486/
never doubt a woman and her chicken sandwiches
Okay, two entries today, sorry. I was way too wiped out last night to post about the Solvang Century and I had the Fargo Hill Street Climb ride first thing this morning (which will be my next entry). Lots of excitement to be had (for the cycling geeks among us, anyway), and needless to say, I'm completely knackered now! I'll try to focus and just deliver a straight up, succinct report (yeah, right, and little green Martians are invading the earth as I type).
I woke up at 3:20am yesterday. My alarm clock was set for 4:00am. Now, if I had gone back to sleep, I likely would have felt like groggy ass if I'd only gotten 40 more minutes of rest (you know what I mean?). It is never wise to go back to sleep when you are less than an hour from when you are scheduled to rise. So, rise I did...at 3:20am. Do you know what that feels like? I do and it blows. But I was up, dressed, fed (so was Stephie) and on the road right at 5:00am, right on schedule. Other than a traffic collision that shut the 101 down for 10 minutes, I had no issue arriving in Solvang by 7:00am. I was then ready to roll by 7:15am. The gang, however, was not. Grrrr. I love these folks, they are my friends, but sometimes (well, the times when one gets up at 3:20am), I am not in the mood for shenanigans. This meant that by 7:50am, when we actually rolled out of Solvang and onto the route, I was in a foul mood. So, was Lisa. We were both (play) snapping at one another (she's my people...we can snap at one another one minute and hug the next) and Herb was stuck riding with us all day (lucky Herb). Jason & The Colonel dropped us (but, of course) within 10 minutes of riding out on HWY 246.
Once my legs began to warm and my adrenaline got to pumping (Jason was almost taken out, and I'd have likely gone down with him, at the very beginning of the ride), my mood began to change (riding has this effect on me for sure). Although still ready to beat someone senseless (no one in our group - but some of the other dumbass riders out there; some folks are just so stupid on bikes and will pass on the right in lieu of the left, potentially causing a very bad accident), I mellowed enough to look forward to the 90+ miles ahead of me. Unfortunately, the skies above us did not match my changing mood, and instead, remained dark with grey clouds and swirling cold winds. I immediately began wishing for a more cheerful sun to come out (which it did, for all of an hour throughout the whole day!). I was dressed in my Capri's with shorts over them, base layer, arm warmers, jersey and jacket. I was just a tad under dressed and, throughout the ride, I wished for my favorite (albeit beaten-to-hell) yellow jacket - the one everyone wishes I'd part with, but like Linus with his security blanket, I doubtfully ever will!
At the first rest stop, we were floored by the volume of riders and the poor organization of the ride. The food line (yes, a line) was snaked all the way out to the road. It didn't effect me, as I had packed enough food to get me through the day, but both Herb and Lisa were unwilling to wait in line (for a PB&J and fruit - which is just about all they had all day long!). This has long been a complaint of mine about the Solvang Century - way overpriced for what you get! I renegaded yesterday (something I'm ashamed to admit - but I'm unemployed, so there you have it) and did not pay the $65 registration fee. I packed and ate my own food and rode the course without any of the spoils (no, I did not take a goody bag at the end) - otherwise, I'd have been as disappointed and angry as the others.
(turn volume on Tunes at bottom of sidebar off to hear videos)
More pics are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/merider/sets/72157615238562321/
I woke up at 3:20am yesterday. My alarm clock was set for 4:00am. Now, if I had gone back to sleep, I likely would have felt like groggy ass if I'd only gotten 40 more minutes of rest (you know what I mean?). It is never wise to go back to sleep when you are less than an hour from when you are scheduled to rise. So, rise I did...at 3:20am. Do you know what that feels like? I do and it blows. But I was up, dressed, fed (so was Stephie) and on the road right at 5:00am, right on schedule. Other than a traffic collision that shut the 101 down for 10 minutes, I had no issue arriving in Solvang by 7:00am. I was then ready to roll by 7:15am. The gang, however, was not. Grrrr. I love these folks, they are my friends, but sometimes (well, the times when one gets up at 3:20am), I am not in the mood for shenanigans. This meant that by 7:50am, when we actually rolled out of Solvang and onto the route, I was in a foul mood. So, was Lisa. We were both (play) snapping at one another (she's my people...we can snap at one another one minute and hug the next) and Herb was stuck riding with us all day (lucky Herb). Jason & The Colonel dropped us (but, of course) within 10 minutes of riding out on HWY 246.
Once my legs began to warm and my adrenaline got to pumping (Jason was almost taken out, and I'd have likely gone down with him, at the very beginning of the ride), my mood began to change (riding has this effect on me for sure). Although still ready to beat someone senseless (no one in our group - but some of the other dumbass riders out there; some folks are just so stupid on bikes and will pass on the right in lieu of the left, potentially causing a very bad accident), I mellowed enough to look forward to the 90+ miles ahead of me. Unfortunately, the skies above us did not match my changing mood, and instead, remained dark with grey clouds and swirling cold winds. I immediately began wishing for a more cheerful sun to come out (which it did, for all of an hour throughout the whole day!). I was dressed in my Capri's with shorts over them, base layer, arm warmers, jersey and jacket. I was just a tad under dressed and, throughout the ride, I wished for my favorite (albeit beaten-to-hell) yellow jacket - the one everyone wishes I'd part with, but like Linus with his security blanket, I doubtfully ever will!
At the first rest stop, we were floored by the volume of riders and the poor organization of the ride. The food line (yes, a line) was snaked all the way out to the road. It didn't effect me, as I had packed enough food to get me through the day, but both Herb and Lisa were unwilling to wait in line (for a PB&J and fruit - which is just about all they had all day long!). This has long been a complaint of mine about the Solvang Century - way overpriced for what you get! I renegaded yesterday (something I'm ashamed to admit - but I'm unemployed, so there you have it) and did not pay the $65 registration fee. I packed and ate my own food and rode the course without any of the spoils (no, I did not take a goody bag at the end) - otherwise, I'd have been as disappointed and angry as the others.
We pulled away from the rest stop into colder weather (believe it or not, it got progressively chillier throughout the day!). I was not feeling my best (probably from the poor rest last week) and I knew right away that my climbing legs were useless. Herb had a great riding day yesterday and could have finished ahead of us girls, but, of course, he hung back. Lisa was outright hurting. Hey, I've been there and I know how that feels! At the second stop, they passed up the food tables as well. This worried me. Neither were eating enough. I'd packed three halves of a chicken/cheese/mustard on wheat sandwich, so I ate one and offered them my other two halves. Both refused...but I knew I'd wear them down.
By the time we arrived at lunch, both Lisa and Herb were starving and mad. No turkey sandwich, chips, etc. at that lunch...just the same crappy PB&Js, nuts, cookies and fruit. They needed protein and finally gave into the offer of chicken sandwiches. Heh heh....never doubt a woman and her chicken sandwiches! We knew the majority of the climbing was near the end, so we didn't linger long over lunch. The winds by this time had picked up again, and my back began protesting...gawddim back! Back issues and asthma (which was also acting up with the cold winds) are so stupid. But I told myself "HTFU" and pushed hard. I was fine on the flats, but any hill I encountered punished me. I knew what was coming (Foxen Canyon and Ballard Canyon) and dreaded it. It was here that I wanted the ride to be over. Yeah, I admit it...at times, I want off the bike and not on. At these times, it's the mental brawn more than anything else that gets you across the finish line of any ride, trust me!
Lisa, on the other hand, was fading. She'd most definitely not fueled enough, and I was worried she'd bonk. She's tough, no doubt about it, and a very strong rider, but she's newer to century riding, and this ride was tougher than most (due mainly to the all day chill and winds, I think, than anything else). She was also grumpier than me and complaining (something she rarely does). I knew she was hurting and I knew the tail end climbs would really hit her hard. I stopped Herb and told him we were going to gang up on her and demand that she eat more Cliff Shots or gels. I worried she'd not want to (she nor I were hungry, which is typical on a brutal ride). Nope. She followed orders and ate something. I shouldn't underestimate her and really admire her spunky humor and determination. By the time we hit that Godforsaken hill (Foxen, which is 8% for a good mile or so...bastard), she did fine. I was suffering for sure, and even in my granny of all grannies gear, I could barely turn it over at 4mph up the hill. I even considered walking my bike! Seriously...I ain't got no ego, son - at least when it comes to future knee use. I made it up by bike however, and during the last 10 miles home, I was able to enjoy the most scenic part of the ride, hitting the rollers with ease.
We all finished safely and, although a tough ride, it was a beautiful day with wonderful company (Herbie is the best and Lisa is my gal pal). By the time I crawled onto my pillow-topped mattress last night, I was a petri dish of mush...completely useless! That's okay...CAM three down, nine more to go. Yippee!
(turn volume on Tunes at bottom of sidebar off to hear videos)
More pics are here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/merider/sets/72157615238562321/
March 13, 2009
Friday fugly funnies
I'm grumpy. It's Friday and I'm suppose to be in Ventura, hanging with The Colonel and Herb. I was suppose to stay at the condo there with the gang this evening, but I didn't sleep last night, really didn't sleep, and now my eyelids hurt, I'm in the worst mood, and I just want to curl up in a ball for the weekend. Thing is, I have 100 miles to ride in Solvang tomorrow. I'm looking forward to the ride but only if I get a good night's rest and the only way I know how to do that is by sleeping in my own bed, waking at 4am and driving up north for two hours in the morning. I'd have likely awakened at 4am in Ventura anyway, so the timing is the same. It's just the two hour solo drive both up and back that I'm not keen on. Herb was disappointed too as he feels it's a waste of gas. I agree, but I need rest and this was the only way I figured I could ensure I get it (assuming I sleep solid tonight). Plus, as I pointed out to him this afternoon on the phone, I got a good two hours of job searching in today (submitted two resumes in the process) and an hour bike ride while out running errands. So, it was the right decision. But now...I'm grumpy.
And in this mood, I have had no frickin' patience with all the gawddim news reports on the stupid women of late. In particular, the dipsh*t I love to despise the most is...Octomom. She's here to stay, for awhile anyway, and will continue to profit from her now over sized, stretched out and (surely) defunct uterus until the second round of babies (all 8 of them) are old enough for nobody to give a sh*t about them anymore. I don't mean to pick on the children who didn't ask to be brought into this world for the sole use of profit, but let's face it - all those Christian folk out there imploring everyone to 'think of them babies, we must do what we can for them babies, them are God's children, them babies...' will likely lose interest and move on to another lost cause once those babies start walking. Then those God's children will be left in the care of a woman who, in my opinion, should be institutionalized and possibly drugged, and not rewarded with a 1/2 million dollar house, free furniture and around the clock nannies. I have a thought. For them babies' sake, why doesn't the state take them away now and put them in a proper foster home and up for adoption? That is likely the outcome down the line when their mentally imbalanced mother loses her 15 minutes of fame and is no longer receiving charity for having had children she can't afford or possibly care for by herself...rewarded for being inhumanely irresponsible.
Nah...this is America. And if you can both afford plastic surgery and produce 14 children while living on food stamps, you too can obtain fame and fortune. Here is my Friday fugly funnies entry. You've likely already seen it, but I hadn't until today and I laughed my butt off. The actress playing Octomom nails her perfectly.
And in this mood, I have had no frickin' patience with all the gawddim news reports on the stupid women of late. In particular, the dipsh*t I love to despise the most is...Octomom. She's here to stay, for awhile anyway, and will continue to profit from her now over sized, stretched out and (surely) defunct uterus until the second round of babies (all 8 of them) are old enough for nobody to give a sh*t about them anymore. I don't mean to pick on the children who didn't ask to be brought into this world for the sole use of profit, but let's face it - all those Christian folk out there imploring everyone to 'think of them babies, we must do what we can for them babies, them are God's children, them babies...' will likely lose interest and move on to another lost cause once those babies start walking. Then those God's children will be left in the care of a woman who, in my opinion, should be institutionalized and possibly drugged, and not rewarded with a 1/2 million dollar house, free furniture and around the clock nannies. I have a thought. For them babies' sake, why doesn't the state take them away now and put them in a proper foster home and up for adoption? That is likely the outcome down the line when their mentally imbalanced mother loses her 15 minutes of fame and is no longer receiving charity for having had children she can't afford or possibly care for by herself...rewarded for being inhumanely irresponsible.
Nah...this is America. And if you can both afford plastic surgery and produce 14 children while living on food stamps, you too can obtain fame and fortune. Here is my Friday fugly funnies entry. You've likely already seen it, but I hadn't until today and I laughed my butt off. The actress playing Octomom nails her perfectly.
March 12, 2009
Betty Crocker I ain't
I lit my gas stove today for the first time in like five years. Seriously. I own a George Foreman Grill and some amazing saute pans - combine those with a microwave, and I don't really need the stove. Besides, I'm not the Betty Crocker type who likes to bake. I feel items like cakes, cookies and cheesy-casseroles are better left unprepared as they are more likely to stick to my thighs, butt and belly than - oh, say - stir fry, steamed or sauteed-without-oil dishes would. On top of this, I'm petrified of even turning my stove on. It's an antique (really) and just lighting the gas fuse is frightening. It makes this 'whoosh' noise when I put the match to the leaking gas, and I fear that one day it's just going to blow up in my face. It did not blow up today and my face is intact.
Why do you need to know the above? (well, why do you need to know anything I divulge? is the real question) Because I baked, from scratch...SCRATCH...chocolate chip cookies for Herb. These cookies are his birthday present. He begged me not to spend any money on him, so I had to come up with something to wish him 'Happy Birthday.' The man loves homemade cookies, a Herb trivia fact that I am aware of cause he's gone on and on about the homemade cookies he'll be eating along the route we ride this Saturday in Solvang. This Saturday is our third century ride of the year (and third entry in CAM), and we're riding the Solvang Century. The ride is known for the ridiculous amount of homemade goodies handed out at the SAG stops.
I figured Herb could get started early on some homemade cookies and whipped him up a huge batch all by myself - i.e., prepackaged Betty Crocker was nowhere to be found in my kitchen. Nope. I stirred up the brown/white sugar (1.5 cups each!), four eggs, cup of butter and four cups of flour all by myself! Oh, and I threw in real milk chocolate chunks in lieu of chips. I used a spoon and not a mixer to stir the dough which meant a lot of elbow grease. He'd better like them! (I know he will, cause I tried a few. I had to! Um...I had to make sure they were edible. Now, I feel like a bloated goat from all that sugar and butter...ugh. See why I don't normally bake?)
I made Herb swear he wouldn't read this blog this afternoon. He and Ellen (his lovely wife) invited me over for dinner, at which time I will give him the cookies, but I wanted to blog now (I'm not going to want to when I get home later tonight). He's actually cooking the dinner himself, and that's just wrong (well, it's his birthday, after all). But Ellen gets home later than he does, and I already cooked today - so, he's the chef! He said he's going to make us steak salads. Thank goodness, cause I really blew it today on the cookies and had better eat lighter tonight. I'm lucky I got invited over and am looking forward to it.
I think Herb feels a tad sorry for me cause I've been a little down this week and is trying to cheer me up (he's such a good friend). The job search is going so slowly! I spent three hours this morning sending out resumes and looking up jobs. My first unemployment check came, though! Yay! Not that I want to be unemployed, but seeing the money helped. And they never did call me or anything, which everyone said they would. Maybe I'm just not all that alarming or need to be screened. Either way, I'll take it. I'm hoping this process will be over soon, but I'm hunkering down for the long haul. Things are just so crazy right now, one almost has to just ride the waves out. Given the cookies I ate today, I should be able to float on my blubber alone, so I'll be fine.
Why do you need to know the above? (well, why do you need to know anything I divulge? is the real question) Because I baked, from scratch...SCRATCH...chocolate chip cookies for Herb. These cookies are his birthday present. He begged me not to spend any money on him, so I had to come up with something to wish him 'Happy Birthday.' The man loves homemade cookies, a Herb trivia fact that I am aware of cause he's gone on and on about the homemade cookies he'll be eating along the route we ride this Saturday in Solvang. This Saturday is our third century ride of the year (and third entry in CAM), and we're riding the Solvang Century. The ride is known for the ridiculous amount of homemade goodies handed out at the SAG stops.
I figured Herb could get started early on some homemade cookies and whipped him up a huge batch all by myself - i.e., prepackaged Betty Crocker was nowhere to be found in my kitchen. Nope. I stirred up the brown/white sugar (1.5 cups each!), four eggs, cup of butter and four cups of flour all by myself! Oh, and I threw in real milk chocolate chunks in lieu of chips. I used a spoon and not a mixer to stir the dough which meant a lot of elbow grease. He'd better like them! (I know he will, cause I tried a few. I had to! Um...I had to make sure they were edible. Now, I feel like a bloated goat from all that sugar and butter...ugh. See why I don't normally bake?)
I made Herb swear he wouldn't read this blog this afternoon. He and Ellen (his lovely wife) invited me over for dinner, at which time I will give him the cookies, but I wanted to blog now (I'm not going to want to when I get home later tonight). He's actually cooking the dinner himself, and that's just wrong (well, it's his birthday, after all). But Ellen gets home later than he does, and I already cooked today - so, he's the chef! He said he's going to make us steak salads. Thank goodness, cause I really blew it today on the cookies and had better eat lighter tonight. I'm lucky I got invited over and am looking forward to it.
I think Herb feels a tad sorry for me cause I've been a little down this week and is trying to cheer me up (he's such a good friend). The job search is going so slowly! I spent three hours this morning sending out resumes and looking up jobs. My first unemployment check came, though! Yay! Not that I want to be unemployed, but seeing the money helped. And they never did call me or anything, which everyone said they would. Maybe I'm just not all that alarming or need to be screened. Either way, I'll take it. I'm hoping this process will be over soon, but I'm hunkering down for the long haul. Things are just so crazy right now, one almost has to just ride the waves out. Given the cookies I ate today, I should be able to float on my blubber alone, so I'll be fine.
March 11, 2009
details are in the planning
I didn't get to bed last night until midnight and then I couldn't sleep. I'm sure it's the stress of my current jobless state that's causing the multitude of bizarre dreams I've been having of late where I'm talking to past coworkers and friends, saying nonsensical things in ridiculous settings. Dreams rarely make sense and are likely just flashing images, sounds and thoughts that are triggered by the many synapses connecting and disconnecting in our brains as we sleep. They bother me, nonetheless, especially if I can't shake one the next day or can't entirely remember one when parts of it keep popping into my waking, lucid brain. Last night was such an evening and this morning, I spent time trying to shake those stupid dreams from my conscious. I was slow to get going anyway, lingering over my coffee as I searched the want ads, so it all felt like a huge hangover although I did not drink yesterday evening.
Luckily for me, I had lunch today with a dear friend, one of my favorites, so I had to pull it together. We met for sushi at one of my very favorite sushi spots (one he introduced me to). I took his picture and threatened to blog on him, but I know he'd rather I didn't (he hates his photos, although I have no idea why). So, instead, I'll just show you what I was treated to, although I tried wrestling the bill from him to at least go dutch!
Luckily for me, I had lunch today with a dear friend, one of my favorites, so I had to pull it together. We met for sushi at one of my very favorite sushi spots (one he introduced me to). I took his picture and threatened to blog on him, but I know he'd rather I didn't (he hates his photos, although I have no idea why). So, instead, I'll just show you what I was treated to, although I tried wrestling the bill from him to at least go dutch!
I also teared up when I opened my card and saw the very sweet present he and his wife gave me for my birthday. The gift will help me out with a specific thing I need (cleats for my Sidis' to be exact). I am so touched by his and other friends' kind and genuine offers to help me out in various ways. I don't expect it or take it for granted, nor do I like taking any charity or allowing others to treat. I've never been good at saying, "why, thank you" and enjoying their gestures. But truly, if there was ever a time I appreciate it, it's now! Again, not that I'm broke. I'm not. But I haven't received a single unemployment check (which is pissing me off) and the job process is going at a snail pace. The 'waiting to hear' is annoying me and the opportunities are not coming as quickly as I'm accustomed to. Yes, I am fully aware of what I'm up against in this economy with so many folks out of work, and I am trying to find a job (in case you think I'm not). But I'm human too, and I'd rather admit my frustration, fear and downright blah over the whole thing than walk around with a perma-grin as if I have a vibrating corn cob stuck up my....
Anyway, back to the lunch. It was fantastic and I followed it with a trip to the cricket store (for Stephie's sushi lunch takeout - I laughed when I thought of that joke and then immediately felt guilty and terrible for the poor little crickets!). Speaking of, Stephie has been a major PITA today, to the point that I just about damn near threw her out my french doors (and right at the feet of a roaming cat up on my shared balcony). I don't know what her issue was today, but she wanted out all day long, running back and forth, bobbing her head, completely destroying her terrarium and got so worked up, her beard turned black. I tried to capture a pic of it here, but the exposure doesn't do a great job. You can see it in her fierce posture here though...the little sh*t. She didn't dare bite me as she knows I have bigger teeth than she does.
Okay, that's it. I've got to pop off here and go prepare a birthday surprise for the same friend I had lunch with today. He has threatened me if I buy him a present. So, I'm being creative and have him wondering what I'm going to do. Heh heh...he'll be surprised alright. It's very simple but for me, a huge undertaking. The details are in the planning, so I've got to get going.
March 10, 2009
free-willy along the ocean
Years ago, we're talking like six or seven, I'd meet up with my friend, Nancy, in Venice, CA (at the end of Washington Blvd. to be exact), rent cheap, clunky beach cruisers and ride down to Palos Verdes and back. In those days I didn't...gasp!...wear a helmet. I was stupid then, okay? Anyway, we'd ride free-willy style, just stopping wherever we pleased for lunch along the way, flirting with the shirtless surfers who were out walking their surf boards to the waves and ending the ride at some favorite joint like C&O for dinner. I loved those days and those rides, and although I now wear a helmet, I can still ride free-willy style along the ocean and have a day of it for sure!
I bring this up -as I'm sure you can guess- cause I did just that today. I was suppose to spend the afternoon with two very, very dear friends at a movie and dinner. I was looking forward to it, but at 11:30am I received a call. One of my friends got hit so hard with food poisoning, she was admitted to UCLA Medical Center last night! Turns out, she is okay (thank goodness!) and home tonight, but the poor thing was certainly not up to going out. I didn't care about the plans so much as about her well being, and I'm very grateful she's okay. But this left me with no plans, Stans (heh heh...that kind of works, huh?) What to do...what to do...hmmm. Oh, yeah - ride my bike!
Unoriginal, huh? Well, I don't care as I'm a creature of habit. So, Nellie got loaded on my Nissan and I was off into horrific traffic to the ocean. I ended up driving to Malibu and cutting back via Las Virgenes due to the auto congestion. I arrived in the parking lot of the Will Rogers beach park around 1:45pm. I was off by 2pm and hitting a good stride. First thing I noticed was the headwind. Not horrible at first, but I've ridden along the coast so many times, I knew my return trip would be much more difficult to maneuver (especially on a mountain bike!).
I rode through Santa Monica and hit the Venice Strand at peak congestion. I didn't care, staying on the main drag rolling at a crawl just so I could photograph all of the different folks out taking in the sun this afternoon. It didn't matter that it was a weekday - the kooky folk were there! I use to come down to the strand in my 20s and blow a good $20 on cheap beads and cheap beer. I know that crowd well and am surprised by nothing...including drug use. The sudden whiffs of pot I caught as I rolled along smelled just as toasty today as they did back in 1995 and I found myself giggling (maybe I got a tad high?). I was well entertained but getting hungry as I'd eaten no more than a cup of couscous and a banana in the morning. I figured I'd eat in Manhattan Beach, which was my destination.
What I forgot about was Dockweiller Beach which goes on forever it seems. By the time I arrived at the tip of Manhattan, I was starving. So, I picked the first place I saw, Manhattan Beach Brewery. I was already biased to it since my dad and I had landed there back in 1997 when he was out for a visit and I had driven us down to the ocean. When I entered the brewery, the only other customer was paying his bill and promptly left. So, I made myself known to the bartender, a 23 year old cutie who was lonely for talk. He told me (hee hee hee) that I look as if I'm turning 30 at the very maximum (so what if he's lying? - shut up! - it made me feel good!). I ordered a chocolate porter, turkey burger with blue cheese and sweet potato fries.
I didn't eat it all (mostly just the burger), but I sure as hell drank that beer. It was outstanding. Since I was riding, I turned down the opportunity to have a second one. The sweet bartender, whom I'd told it was my birthday, charged me a mere $11 bucks for the whole meal (that's with tax!). I hadn't told him that I'm unemployed , so it wasn't a pity offer. I think he found me fetching (even in my Fred attire, zinc paste and greasy hair). Yeah...I still got it!
It was a good day.
turn off volume on tunes box at bottom of sidebar to hear video
I didn't eat it all (mostly just the burger), but I sure as hell drank that beer. It was outstanding. Since I was riding, I turned down the opportunity to have a second one. The sweet bartender, whom I'd told it was my birthday, charged me a mere $11 bucks for the whole meal (that's with tax!). I hadn't told him that I'm unemployed , so it wasn't a pity offer. I think he found me fetching (even in my Fred attire, zinc paste and greasy hair). Yeah...I still got it!
After my indulgence, I faced a hard schlep back in the headwinds. Those frickin' winds had something to say to me, and to my face, for sure - none of which I wanted to hear! Then my stomach chimed in (perhaps a turkey burger, fries and beer isn't the meal of champions?). I was ready to hurl by the time I made it back to the car (5:45pm on the dot). I didn't care. It was an amazing (if not a little lonely) ride and a perfect way to spend my birthday. I wanted to stay to capture the sunset on film, but I was freezing my butt off! Nonetheless, I was happy today, very happy. Mostly due to the calls, emails and cards I received coupled with the ride. Oh, and some presents. Dad decided I needed a printer to go with my laptop. What am I going to do with him? Sigh.
It was a good day.
turn off volume on tunes box at bottom of sidebar to hear video
March 8, 2009
it will kick your butt
Well, isn't that a kicker? I don't ride with the gang this morning (should have) cause I'm too tired and then end up riding up Sepulveda to Mullhulond, up that to the dirt road, up that (yes, up), then down a tiny bit, then up to the entrance at Reseda Blvd. and back. Um...22 miles on a mountain bike with climbing. Ow!
No biggie and I loved it all, but my arse is throbbing. If only I had someone to rub it and I can't afford Dominique anymore! (don't ask) I'm stuck just sitting on it and hoping to recovery by tomorrow for the gym. I've got a full day planned, including the Placement firm and Toastmasters, so the gym may go 'bye-bye' - we'll see.
In the meantime, I'm sitting here in pain. I think just a bit too much climbing this weekend. And I can promise you, a mountain bike will kick your butt! Mine does!
mountain and a martini
Phew! Yesterday was jam packed, the kind of day I like having but the kind of day I must recover from (more on the reason why I need to recover in a minute). Now, if only it hadn't been the day we 'spring forward' with time savings and lose an hour. That means, of course, that I lost an hour of sleep on a night I needed that rest - which also means, I bailed on riding to the westside (over Sepulveda Canyon like last week) with the gang this morning. I hated to bail and feel like a loser, but I'm tarrrrred...and feathered (such a silly expression). Now, I'll be riding Nellie up to the Nike Missile Site solo (and lonesome) at some point today since I didn't pull it together in time to ride with Herb, The Colonel and The Lobsters. But I'm getting ahead of myself...
Yesterday is what I'm here to report on and yesterday was fantastic. It started with my arriving at Herbie's place (a little tardy again, what's up with that?), loading my helmet, shoes and pump into his truck, and us carpooling to Encanto park to ride one of my all time favorite climbs, Glendora Mountain Road, otherwise known as GMR.
Yesterday is what I'm here to report on and yesterday was fantastic. It started with my arriving at Herbie's place (a little tardy again, what's up with that?), loading my helmet, shoes and pump into his truck, and us carpooling to Encanto park to ride one of my all time favorite climbs, Glendora Mountain Road, otherwise known as GMR.
GMR is the only passage way to Mt. Baldy for me (I never, ever, ever want to climb Mt. Baldy from the bottom of Mt. Baldy Road up, as that route contains something like 5,000 feet of gain in a mere 12 miles! - although many cyclists do climb it and love it, so to each their own). I usually climb Hwy 39, East Fork and up the back side of GMR (known as 'little GMR') to reach Glendora Ridge Road (GRR). But yesterday, Herb nor I had the time to spend riding to Baldy as we both had evening plans (kind of a bummer, too, since we both were strong enough to ride up there easily). Instead, we'd settled on just riding from Encanto down Sierre Madre blvd., to GMR and up to the fork of GMR/GRR, then back down little GMR, East Fork and Hwy 39 home (have I confused you yet?).
As it turns out, we had a 'GMR virgin' with us on the ride, a very sweet gal, Vanessa, who'd never climbed GMR and is in training for The Ride around the Bear this summer. Although she rode the hill strong, her pace was not going to allow us the time to take the full route back. Instead, we were resigned to climbing GMR and then just heading back down the mountain the way we came (which is faster than Hwy 39 and a breathtakingly sweet descent). Herb didn't mind, Mr. Beanz (our other riding companion for the day) didn't mind, and I sure didn't. I love ride virgins and being there for their first 'OMG, I did it!' moment. Vanessa was a treat - full of enthusiasm, humor and an absolute determination to make it to the top. She didn't have any issues and was so appreciative of the experience.
As for the men, they circled back several times to check on us and got plenty of a workout. I threw it into my middle ring and stayed there the entire climb, really employing my quads to power me up. Normally, I spin, but this extra load and reduced speed worked my legs differently and I'm feeling it today! This gave me an opportunity to really get to know Vanessa as well as snap many photos. I met a schlew of other cyclists along the road, and there was a surplus of hot men in spandex to admire (as they passed me), so I was very well entertained! (In my opinion, male cyclists should never wear anything but spandex - I mean, why ruin a perfect view by throwing loose pants over it?)
In fact, there were so many cyclists out under those crisp blue skies that one could say the cyclists owned the road! The motorcyclists and motorists were present too, but they were surprisingly tame, and we experienced no issues on the climb. However, on the way back, I was cut off by a motorist pulling out from a school parking lot on Sierre Madre. Had I been descending (in lieu of climbing) at the time she pulled right in front of me and stopped, I'd have slammed right into the driver's side of her car. I rant and rave about it in the second video below, so I'll keep the reporting on it to minimum.
After the ride, which ended up being a 32 miler with close to 3,000 feet of gain, we headed to the Green Onion (one of my favorite places) for lunch. That little hole-in-the-wall Mexican Catina does it right! They have this new dish, the Fruit de Gallo, that I'm obsessed with. It's chunks of watermelon, pineapple and cucumber smothered in cold lime juice, Chile powder, a little salt and a sprinkling of sugar. My mouth is watering just thinking about it, it's so good! I ate light because I knew I had a french cuisine dinner planned for the evening.
Which leads me to the end of the day. I invited a couple of friends over for a bike maintenance class and dinner at Cafe Bizou, the best french restaurant anywhere in LA, in my opinion. It's so reasonably priced (a $2 corkage fee!) and delicious, that is where I recommend we go for dinner to all my friends who visit me. It's also within walking distance, making it a perfect choice. I was bad girl and took on one of these (as well as some fantastic wine a certain someone who is a sweetheart contributed to the dinner):
I was treated to the pomegranate martini and I just couldn't turn it down! I then ordered sand dabs and soup. I didn't feel the martini at all or the wine I drank with dinner, but it all effected my sleep for sure....well, that and I didn't get to bed until midnight with the time change! Grrrrr.... But the evening was so worth it as my two friends really raised my spirits (we talked long about my current situation and what the future holds). I have to remember that I will be rehired, but it may take awhile. I also have to remember that things fall in their proper places whether we realize it at the time or not.
Oh, and one last thing...Boo had her debut last night. She was so well behaved and even ate a few worms in front of my friends to show how incredibly cool she is. She wasn't scared of the other 'FatHeads' in the least and was really very friendly and, of course, so very cute. She had a little too much excitement though, and like her FatHead here, she's a bit out of sorts this morning!March 5, 2009
it can happen to any group
“When one group starts taking away rights from another group, it can happen to any group. Proposition 8 puts all minority groups at risk.” - Mayor Jerry Sanders
(picture and quote from SanDiego.com, full article here: CLICK)
Today, Prop 8 with all of its discriminatory, fear-filled oily luster goes before the CA Supreme Court . I had considered attending the anti-Prop 8 rally in downtown LA last night but changed my mind (for personal reasons). I now wish I had gone to show physical support as well as vocal (after all, I have the chops for it). Instead, I just watched reports of the rally on the news, curled up on my couch, and was saddened all over again.
Therefore, at this time, one can only hope...
(picture and quote from SanDiego.com, full article here: CLICK)Today, Prop 8 with all of its discriminatory, fear-filled oily luster goes before the CA Supreme Court . I had considered attending the anti-Prop 8 rally in downtown LA last night but changed my mind (for personal reasons). I now wish I had gone to show physical support as well as vocal (after all, I have the chops for it). Instead, I just watched reports of the rally on the news, curled up on my couch, and was saddened all over again.
It's so disgusting to me, that in a world with so much at stake, homophobia is still a motivating factor for those folks filled with fear of the unknown/different. We need vastitude of unity in our world and tolerance, both nationally and globally. Prop 8 should have been defeated and, only by a very small margin, it wasn't (something the proponents of Prop 8 conveniently forget as they spew "the people have spoken" platitudes - um...not my people).
The fight isn't over and, likely, it's going to be many years long with another round of public voting - in which Prop 8 will be overturned and then taken to the supreme court with a pro-Prop 8 rally in downtown LA the night before. And so it will go, around and around and around. Unless, of course, the earth is actually hit by an asteroid (we were missed a mere 47,000 miles by one the other night, by the way) and the human race is wiped out. Maybe the new amoebas to populate the earth will be more tolerant?
In lieu of such a catastrophic event, I'm hopeful that the Supreme Court will rule against Prop 8 and throw it out. But that remains to be seen as the courts have 90 days to decide. So much can happen in 90 days.
Therefore, at this time, one can only hope...
March 4, 2009
Wacky Wednesday
Did you ever read that book as a child? Dr. Seuss wrote it, and he tells the story of a little boy who wakes up one Wednesday with the world completely wacky - a shoe on the wall, flying pigs, ducks in boots, etc. As you turn each page, you have to count all the wacky things until the end of the story. I mention this book as it popped into my mind today because well, sigh, I'm watching CNN News again. I'm obsessed with it and the insane volume of complete wackiness in the world at present. It's a crazy train ride right now, and honestly, I'm not sure how our conductor (Obama) is handling it all. I personally think he's doing well - he is at least taking action, some action, and not just addressing the country while stammering with dumbed-down swagger to appease the masses. He's doing something - which would not include debating dumbass Rush Limbaugh (who apparently challenged Obama today to a debate on his radio show). The whole Limbaugh hoopla is a perfect example of how imbalanced this country is.
Really...really...people who were making six figure salaries a year ago are now on food stamps and losing their homes, our economy is precariously balanced on a burning tightrope, and Rush-f'n-Limbaugh, drug addict, hypocrite, media whore is news worthy? I.Need.To.Turn.The.TV.Off. That or throw it in the trash and light fire to it (of course, I won't).
Adding to that (and the wackiness of this Wednesday), I'm in a state of complete chaos. No, I'm not drunk, text messaging old lovers while sitting in a pile of my own...um...never mind. I'm cleaning out my apartment like I never have before. And in that process, I've got piles of stuff everywhere. But I'm proud to report that one corner of my life is completely in order and calm. It's the corner of my living room where my window air-conditioning unit is that has had a mess of crap with all things bike/hike related all over the floor for five years. It is now organized into boxes, and my Japanese screen can sit upright and not leaning (like before) due to the creeping mess.
How did I do this? Well, you know those boxes of 'things that do not belong to me' my ex company so generously gave me (rolling eyes)? I used those boxes and that fugly, turquoise pail to put it all into place!
After that project, I decided to install a bar above my french doors to better hang a decorative curtain.
Why is this blog worthy (really, why is any of what I've written today blog worthy?) - cause I did it all by myself and it was hard! This apartment was built in 1953 and withstood the 1994 Northridge earthquake when buildings around it crumbled. The walls here are uber-solid and trying to hammer or screw any nail or screw into them is near impossible. I was sweating like crazy trying to screw the damn thing up there. It still isn't straight (I likely need a drill), but I was so proud of myself for getting it up! Then I knocked the whole top valiance down almost taking out Sephie in her terrarium. You should have seen her face. If ever a lizard was about to sh*t her britches...
Am I stir-crazy?...a little. But not as much as I was yesterday or Monday. I had a long talk with my mother and two good friends today. As I said to all of them, if I'm not going to be employed and given the current economy, I need to relax and try (operative word) to enjoy some of my time off. I did my job searching today (nothing new), and no news from the job I interviewed at last week nor has my recruiter called. I keep reminding myself that this is the speed at which this goes and I have to chill out. The HR representative at the job I'm up for promised she'd tell me one way or another in the next two weeks whether I'd be back in for another round of interviews, so no news is still good news - but it's hard to be patient.
Instead, I'm being productive and I'm listing the positives about being out of work (um, you don't need me to list the negatives, as I'm sure you can figure out what those are):
1. I don't roll out of bed until 7:00am every day. That's like sleeping in until noon for most folks. I've been getting up between 4:30 and 5:00am for the last five years (some weeks more so than others, but pretty consistently so).
2. I drink my coffee while watching news and reading emails. I use to do that at work, only I'd be...well...at work and online reading the news. No, I was not fired. I was laid off, so before you go thinking, "well, no wonder you don't have a job..." - wrong! I was very productive on my job even at the times I was web surfing. The same could be said about my ex boss (and CFO), so there.
3. Although I don't think I've lost any weight (frickin' Murphy's Law), I have been eating more healthy and definitely cheaper! I love being cheap and eating at home. Unlike some folks who want to eat out - hell, that's all I did! I didn't have time (or so I convinced myself). I'm now back to the habit of eating in and using everything I have (mostly - I'm not perfect) before it goes bad and being creative with my cooking. And guess what? I'm actually a pretty good little cook, too! Hey, I think it's edible and haven't suffered Salmonella poisoning yet, so I must be doing something right.
4. I'm calmer and happier - well, when I'm not stressing out about being unemployed that is. But that's a state of mind, so I can work on thinking positive.
5. I'm no longer angry. I've been living the past two years an angry person. I can't blame my ex company entirely. I should have left two years ago. I should have challenged myself and realized that even if the risk didn't pan out, it was better than where I was. I hate being unemployed, but not more so than I hated being where I was. Something I realized (and brought tears to my eyes) yesterday - I was actually pleased to look people in the eye everywhere I went. You ever been like that? You know - where you are so unhappy/unsettled/angry/tired/stressed out that you don't even want to look others in the eye? I've been that way (not while out cycling, but most any other time), and it's horrible. Yesterday, looking like complete crap, I looked everyone in the eye- really looked at them, listened and smiled, genuinely happy to be speaking to him/her and/or acknowledging them. And you know what? - I had two men yesterday outright flirt with me. It didn't matter that I wasn't dolled up (or attractive in any way, actually). It mattered that I engaged them and was a kind person - which is the real me. Truthfully, I'm a really happy, sweet person - not the bitch I can be when I'm unhappy. And right now, I'm shaking that bitch off, knocking her to the curve, and 'riding' off a better person. I just hope it lasts - even after I'm employed again!
6. I can ride my bike every day if I want to!!!! I'm not going to ride today and will likely go to the gym or take today as a recovery day, but the fact that, should I choose to ride I can, is fantastic!
So, there you have it. It's Wacky Wednesday today, but I'm in a better mood than I was on Moody Monday or Tumultuous Tuesday! And I have brought order to at least one corner in my life! One corner at a time, right?
Really...really...people who were making six figure salaries a year ago are now on food stamps and losing their homes, our economy is precariously balanced on a burning tightrope, and Rush-f'n-Limbaugh, drug addict, hypocrite, media whore is news worthy? I.Need.To.Turn.The.TV.Off. That or throw it in the trash and light fire to it (of course, I won't).
Adding to that (and the wackiness of this Wednesday), I'm in a state of complete chaos. No, I'm not drunk, text messaging old lovers while sitting in a pile of my own...um...never mind. I'm cleaning out my apartment like I never have before. And in that process, I've got piles of stuff everywhere. But I'm proud to report that one corner of my life is completely in order and calm. It's the corner of my living room where my window air-conditioning unit is that has had a mess of crap with all things bike/hike related all over the floor for five years. It is now organized into boxes, and my Japanese screen can sit upright and not leaning (like before) due to the creeping mess.
How did I do this? Well, you know those boxes of 'things that do not belong to me' my ex company so generously gave me (rolling eyes)? I used those boxes and that fugly, turquoise pail to put it all into place!
After that project, I decided to install a bar above my french doors to better hang a decorative curtain.
Why is this blog worthy (really, why is any of what I've written today blog worthy?) - cause I did it all by myself and it was hard! This apartment was built in 1953 and withstood the 1994 Northridge earthquake when buildings around it crumbled. The walls here are uber-solid and trying to hammer or screw any nail or screw into them is near impossible. I was sweating like crazy trying to screw the damn thing up there. It still isn't straight (I likely need a drill), but I was so proud of myself for getting it up! Then I knocked the whole top valiance down almost taking out Sephie in her terrarium. You should have seen her face. If ever a lizard was about to sh*t her britches...
Am I stir-crazy?...a little. But not as much as I was yesterday or Monday. I had a long talk with my mother and two good friends today. As I said to all of them, if I'm not going to be employed and given the current economy, I need to relax and try (operative word) to enjoy some of my time off. I did my job searching today (nothing new), and no news from the job I interviewed at last week nor has my recruiter called. I keep reminding myself that this is the speed at which this goes and I have to chill out. The HR representative at the job I'm up for promised she'd tell me one way or another in the next two weeks whether I'd be back in for another round of interviews, so no news is still good news - but it's hard to be patient.
Instead, I'm being productive and I'm listing the positives about being out of work (um, you don't need me to list the negatives, as I'm sure you can figure out what those are):
1. I don't roll out of bed until 7:00am every day. That's like sleeping in until noon for most folks. I've been getting up between 4:30 and 5:00am for the last five years (some weeks more so than others, but pretty consistently so).
2. I drink my coffee while watching news and reading emails. I use to do that at work, only I'd be...well...at work and online reading the news. No, I was not fired. I was laid off, so before you go thinking, "well, no wonder you don't have a job..." - wrong! I was very productive on my job even at the times I was web surfing. The same could be said about my ex boss (and CFO), so there.
3. Although I don't think I've lost any weight (frickin' Murphy's Law), I have been eating more healthy and definitely cheaper! I love being cheap and eating at home. Unlike some folks who want to eat out - hell, that's all I did! I didn't have time (or so I convinced myself). I'm now back to the habit of eating in and using everything I have (mostly - I'm not perfect) before it goes bad and being creative with my cooking. And guess what? I'm actually a pretty good little cook, too! Hey, I think it's edible and haven't suffered Salmonella poisoning yet, so I must be doing something right.
4. I'm calmer and happier - well, when I'm not stressing out about being unemployed that is. But that's a state of mind, so I can work on thinking positive.
5. I'm no longer angry. I've been living the past two years an angry person. I can't blame my ex company entirely. I should have left two years ago. I should have challenged myself and realized that even if the risk didn't pan out, it was better than where I was. I hate being unemployed, but not more so than I hated being where I was. Something I realized (and brought tears to my eyes) yesterday - I was actually pleased to look people in the eye everywhere I went. You ever been like that? You know - where you are so unhappy/unsettled/angry/tired/stressed out that you don't even want to look others in the eye? I've been that way (not while out cycling, but most any other time), and it's horrible. Yesterday, looking like complete crap, I looked everyone in the eye- really looked at them, listened and smiled, genuinely happy to be speaking to him/her and/or acknowledging them. And you know what? - I had two men yesterday outright flirt with me. It didn't matter that I wasn't dolled up (or attractive in any way, actually). It mattered that I engaged them and was a kind person - which is the real me. Truthfully, I'm a really happy, sweet person - not the bitch I can be when I'm unhappy. And right now, I'm shaking that bitch off, knocking her to the curve, and 'riding' off a better person. I just hope it lasts - even after I'm employed again!
6. I can ride my bike every day if I want to!!!! I'm not going to ride today and will likely go to the gym or take today as a recovery day, but the fact that, should I choose to ride I can, is fantastic!
So, there you have it. It's Wacky Wednesday today, but I'm in a better mood than I was on Moody Monday or Tumultuous Tuesday! And I have brought order to at least one corner in my life! One corner at a time, right?
March 3, 2009
crying has its advantages
I got my Cobra form in the mail yesterday afternoon and didn't open it until this morning. Looking over the premiums for my personal insurance plan continued coverage, I was shocked that the total is $498/month, which (let's face it) is basically $500. Our health care system (insurance companies in particular) are fukted up...no other way to say it. Of course, I don't have to pay $500/month given that my ex company agreed to pay 50% for 3 months, which is now trumped by the new federal law requiring companies (with more than 20 employees) to pay 65% for nine months. That puts my premium payment at $175/month, which is certainly manageable. However, I hadn't a clue how I am to pay the premium and how my company will foot the rest. So, I called the most logical person to call in these instances...Dad. I figured that since he has an answer for most things (and he does, believe me), he'd be able to tell me.
Nope. Dad didn't know either, but just talking to him made me feel better. And in the process of talking to him, I did research on the laptop (that he bought me) and found a number to call and ask exactly how I am to maneuver the system and ensure I'm properly insured. The number was to the Department of Labor, and if anyone should know, they'd be it (I assumed). I dialed and got a recording. I followed the instructions and was then (surprise!) transferred to a live, breathing human being. Well, he actually sounded like an android, speaking in short, blunt sentences in a deep monotone.
After explaining my current unemployed situation (in a 30 minute commercial format), I asked, "...so, sir, can you please tell me how I sign up for Cobra properly? Do I send in 35% of the premiums, and my company will take care of the rest? Or do I send the full amount and receive reimbursement for 65%? How does it work?"
As if reading from a teleprompter, the android replied, "Your company has 60 days from February 17th to notify Cobra who will send you a new model issuance form with the correct amount in premiums you are to pay. Until that time, you need to send in the $500 enrollment premiums, for which you will receive no reimbursement. Once you receive the new form, you will proceed from there."
Huh?!
"Wait a minute," I interjected, "you're telling me that I, the laid-off, no-income employee is to pay the full initial $500 premium for which I will not get any money back? That makes no sense. The law went into effect on March 1st and is retroactive to September 1, 2008. How is what you are telling me possible?"
"Ma'am, I know the laws. You do not or you would not have called me. I repeat, your company has 60 days...etc."
Without recanting the next full 10 minutes of (um, heated) dialogue between this Department of Labor employee and me (a suddenly very stressed out citizen of the unemployed USA), let me just say - it.was.not.pretty. As this man continued to read from whatever poorly written script his supervisor gave him, my stomach went from calm to 'in knots.' I tried not to argue but the logic was so askew and I knew he was wrong, but how the hell do you convince the Department of Labor that what they are telling you is bullsh*t? I became increasingly agitated and oddly enough, in lieu of anger, my fear and upset manifested into hurt. I hate to admit it, but I'm human, and the fear of having to fork over $500 for something I did not foresee nor do I think fair, was too much to stomach today. I could feel my eyes begin to water and the tears rise in the back of my throat.
I had to get off the phone and focus on something else, so I said, through tears, "you have not been helpful in the least. The last thing the Department of Labor should be doing is telling stressed out, laid off citizens that they have to cover their initial premiums because the stimulus law is so new and employers have 60 days, etc. Now, I'm more confused and still have no clue what I'm supposed to do, because I am NOT paying $500 for which I'll receive no reimbursement. That's just crazy. Goodbye." I hung up the phone practically hyperventilating. I didn't even realize how emotional I can become over all this, but I guess I do now. To calm myself, I sipped my coffee and thought zen thoughts ('this too shall pass...this too shall pass').
Then my phone rang with a number I did not recognize. Normally, I don't answer numbers I don't know, but I figured why not? I kid you not..."Hello, Ma'am, this is Albert from the Department of Labor. I was just speaking with you a few minutes ago. I'm calling you back, because I spoke with my supervisor. The correct answer to your question is that you should only submit 35% of the initial premium, in your case you said $500, to Cobra and your company will submit 65% at a later date. They are responsible for following up on this and not you. It will be between Cobra and your company. That is the correct information." Albert recited this in the same android monotone, but I detected a hint of kindness in his voice.
I guess crying has its advantages and perhaps in the future when I'm ready to rip someone's head off, I'll just resort to whimpering. I thanked Albert and apologized for hanging up on him. I said (again, through tears), "I'm just a little on edge right now, Albert. Surely, you can understand...and I really appreciate you calling me back. That is most helpful."
Phew! This whole process is a little like being in a blender. I can now relate to what chopped fruit feels like. As for the rest of my morning? Well, I job searched (again seeing all the postings for positions I saw last night when I job searched) but I couldn't focus. Once my stomach goes haywire, it takes awhile to get it back to normal. So, I figured I'd do the most obvious thing in the world...ride my bike. Besides, I had errands to run and knew I could do so on Nellie with my backpack. I dressed in my Fred attire, said goodbye to Boo and took off.
I then proceeded to the dry cleaners, drug store and cricket market (Snails and Tails Reptile shop). Other than the crazy drivers on the road, my ride was blissful. Nothing calms me like riding and my stomach was back to normal in less than an hour. It was gorgeous out, blue-skied with puffy clouds, so different from yesterday's moody showers. I forget that riding a mountain bike is harder than riding Patsy, and I got a hell of a workout. I'm wiped now and all I rode was 17 miles! of course, I packed some items from the drug store and the crickets in my backpack which added even more weight, but I felt like I was riding a 40 pound bike!
Some images from the day...
(click to enlarge)
I must say, if there is a silver lining to all of this...I am riding my bike more lately. Now, if I could just find a way to get paid doing that and nothing else.
Nope. Dad didn't know either, but just talking to him made me feel better. And in the process of talking to him, I did research on the laptop (that he bought me) and found a number to call and ask exactly how I am to maneuver the system and ensure I'm properly insured. The number was to the Department of Labor, and if anyone should know, they'd be it (I assumed). I dialed and got a recording. I followed the instructions and was then (surprise!) transferred to a live, breathing human being. Well, he actually sounded like an android, speaking in short, blunt sentences in a deep monotone.
After explaining my current unemployed situation (in a 30 minute commercial format), I asked, "...so, sir, can you please tell me how I sign up for Cobra properly? Do I send in 35% of the premiums, and my company will take care of the rest? Or do I send the full amount and receive reimbursement for 65%? How does it work?"
As if reading from a teleprompter, the android replied, "Your company has 60 days from February 17th to notify Cobra who will send you a new model issuance form with the correct amount in premiums you are to pay. Until that time, you need to send in the $500 enrollment premiums, for which you will receive no reimbursement. Once you receive the new form, you will proceed from there."
Huh?!
"Wait a minute," I interjected, "you're telling me that I, the laid-off, no-income employee is to pay the full initial $500 premium for which I will not get any money back? That makes no sense. The law went into effect on March 1st and is retroactive to September 1, 2008. How is what you are telling me possible?"
"Ma'am, I know the laws. You do not or you would not have called me. I repeat, your company has 60 days...etc."
Without recanting the next full 10 minutes of (um, heated) dialogue between this Department of Labor employee and me (a suddenly very stressed out citizen of the unemployed USA), let me just say - it.was.not.pretty. As this man continued to read from whatever poorly written script his supervisor gave him, my stomach went from calm to 'in knots.' I tried not to argue but the logic was so askew and I knew he was wrong, but how the hell do you convince the Department of Labor that what they are telling you is bullsh*t? I became increasingly agitated and oddly enough, in lieu of anger, my fear and upset manifested into hurt. I hate to admit it, but I'm human, and the fear of having to fork over $500 for something I did not foresee nor do I think fair, was too much to stomach today. I could feel my eyes begin to water and the tears rise in the back of my throat.
I had to get off the phone and focus on something else, so I said, through tears, "you have not been helpful in the least. The last thing the Department of Labor should be doing is telling stressed out, laid off citizens that they have to cover their initial premiums because the stimulus law is so new and employers have 60 days, etc. Now, I'm more confused and still have no clue what I'm supposed to do, because I am NOT paying $500 for which I'll receive no reimbursement. That's just crazy. Goodbye." I hung up the phone practically hyperventilating. I didn't even realize how emotional I can become over all this, but I guess I do now. To calm myself, I sipped my coffee and thought zen thoughts ('this too shall pass...this too shall pass').
Then my phone rang with a number I did not recognize. Normally, I don't answer numbers I don't know, but I figured why not? I kid you not..."Hello, Ma'am, this is Albert from the Department of Labor. I was just speaking with you a few minutes ago. I'm calling you back, because I spoke with my supervisor. The correct answer to your question is that you should only submit 35% of the initial premium, in your case you said $500, to Cobra and your company will submit 65% at a later date. They are responsible for following up on this and not you. It will be between Cobra and your company. That is the correct information." Albert recited this in the same android monotone, but I detected a hint of kindness in his voice.
I guess crying has its advantages and perhaps in the future when I'm ready to rip someone's head off, I'll just resort to whimpering. I thanked Albert and apologized for hanging up on him. I said (again, through tears), "I'm just a little on edge right now, Albert. Surely, you can understand...and I really appreciate you calling me back. That is most helpful."
Phew! This whole process is a little like being in a blender. I can now relate to what chopped fruit feels like. As for the rest of my morning? Well, I job searched (again seeing all the postings for positions I saw last night when I job searched) but I couldn't focus. Once my stomach goes haywire, it takes awhile to get it back to normal. So, I figured I'd do the most obvious thing in the world...ride my bike. Besides, I had errands to run and knew I could do so on Nellie with my backpack. I dressed in my Fred attire, said goodbye to Boo and took off.
I then proceeded to the dry cleaners, drug store and cricket market (Snails and Tails Reptile shop). Other than the crazy drivers on the road, my ride was blissful. Nothing calms me like riding and my stomach was back to normal in less than an hour. It was gorgeous out, blue-skied with puffy clouds, so different from yesterday's moody showers. I forget that riding a mountain bike is harder than riding Patsy, and I got a hell of a workout. I'm wiped now and all I rode was 17 miles! of course, I packed some items from the drug store and the crickets in my backpack which added even more weight, but I felt like I was riding a 40 pound bike!
Some images from the day...
(click to enlarge)
I must say, if there is a silver lining to all of this...I am riding my bike more lately. Now, if I could just find a way to get paid doing that and nothing else.
March 2, 2009
Boo and the bicycle
I'm watching CNN News and I never should. Really...never. It's so much news, too much, with too many depressing stories being aired. It's as if the entire country is laid off. Since I'm one of the lucky unemployed (yes, of course, that's sarcasm), I am glued to any report about others, how they are coping, etc. I'm really okay. For now. Flash forward a year from now and I'd be screwed. I've joked on here about becoming a hooker, but maybe I shouldn't. I watched a report on how hundreds of folks tried out to be lifeguards today and a report on the thousands who tried out for a handful of jobs at Dodgers Stadium. One woman, whom they took a sound bite from, even said while looking into the camera, "I'd just about do anything...anything." I'll joke on here, but I'm not so sure I'd say that into a TV camera. Scary times.
I, however, am my parents' child. And since none of you have met my parents, you will just have to take my word for it when I say they're tough. I don't know many folks who are tougher than Mom and Dad. They haven't exactly had easy lives but you'd never hear them complain, certainly not now. They've seen it all and know how to hunker down. I've learned from the best, so I'm keeping a stiff upper lip even when my mood sours. Cycling helps with this (which I've commented on many times on here already) and my little dragon is doing her best as well (to keep my spirits up and to score some crickets).
In fact, Stephie (Boo) has been trying to cheer me up all morning. She's been running all over her terrarium, bobbing her head and trying to climb up the sides. When I ignored her, she put her head up to the glass and tilted her little beard in my direction. She is definitely a diva. Her antics worked and FatHead here pulled her out and said the usual, 'okay, Boo, you are now free to move about the country.' I also at times will whisper into her ear 'walkabout' - her ancestors are from Australia, after all, so that's very fitting.
Around 10:45am, I decided I would take Nellie out for a canyon spin (which is never truly a spin given all the hills so near my place). I've been job searching and wishing that either my recruiter or the job I'm waiting (somewhat patiently) to hear from would call me. Sitting around waiting for the phone to ring is misery. Why not just ride my bike? So, I donned the Frediest Fred attire (including a Harley Davidson t-shirt, red bandanna and rolled up crappy tights as substitute Capri's) and dragged my bike to the door. Just as I opened my front door (next to Boo's terrarium), she ran up and banged her head into the side of the glass trying to get my attention. I swear she's going to knock herself out one of these days.
I figured I'd be gone for a few hours (not so much, but I'll get to that in a minute), so I granted her one final 'walkabout' before I left. Then it hit me, she wishes she had her own little bicycle. Lucky for her, I have one she can use! I forgot all about it. It's a BMX bike too, perfect for a dragon. So, I showed it to her and sure enough, she loved it! No, she didn't ride it, but she did lick it a few times, and I've learned this is her one and only way to show affection (it's impossible for lizards to wag their tails). I took the opportunity to snap some photos (heh heh...not surprised one bit, are you?)
Boo and the bicycle:
Boo with FatHead:
Nose kisses:
Yes, I love my pet. I've now become the cat lady...er...dragon lady. I like that. I'm the crazy dragon lady. Only I can't get a whole bunch of them cause they'd all fight and eat one another. They are very territorial little animals. Boo looks like she wouldn't be in the least bit fierce. Do not be fooled by her appearance. She would take out any other dragon (or other breed of lizard) in her lair if I were foolish enough to get another one. So, it's just one dragon and one FatHead. We make a perfect team.
After Boo's photo shoot (she was more than ready to go back into her terrarium), I took off on Nellie under overcast skies.
Dumbass here waited too late in the day to ride because just as I got all of a mile down the cracked up streets in my hood, it started raining. Sigh. I'm just not a fan of riding in the rain, even on knobbies and I hate having a dirty, wet mountain bike to clean. Now, isn't that a kicker? I'm one of those who wants the mountain bike to go ride in the dirt but who doesn't want it to get dirty. It's such a PITA to clean it! So, I turned around and hammered back to my dry abode to avoid being dumped on.
I'm hoping it will stop raining here soon, so I can go back out. That or I'll be heading to the gym. Today could be a day off (rest/recovery day), but since I have all this (restless) energy, I might as well use it. Staying inside watching CNN is as bad as waiting for the phone to ring! Speaking of...phone just rang. Wasn't someone I wanted to hear from. Maybe riding in the rain isn't such a bad idea...
I, however, am my parents' child. And since none of you have met my parents, you will just have to take my word for it when I say they're tough. I don't know many folks who are tougher than Mom and Dad. They haven't exactly had easy lives but you'd never hear them complain, certainly not now. They've seen it all and know how to hunker down. I've learned from the best, so I'm keeping a stiff upper lip even when my mood sours. Cycling helps with this (which I've commented on many times on here already) and my little dragon is doing her best as well (to keep my spirits up and to score some crickets).
In fact, Stephie (Boo) has been trying to cheer me up all morning. She's been running all over her terrarium, bobbing her head and trying to climb up the sides. When I ignored her, she put her head up to the glass and tilted her little beard in my direction. She is definitely a diva. Her antics worked and FatHead here pulled her out and said the usual, 'okay, Boo, you are now free to move about the country.' I also at times will whisper into her ear 'walkabout' - her ancestors are from Australia, after all, so that's very fitting.
Around 10:45am, I decided I would take Nellie out for a canyon spin (which is never truly a spin given all the hills so near my place). I've been job searching and wishing that either my recruiter or the job I'm waiting (somewhat patiently) to hear from would call me. Sitting around waiting for the phone to ring is misery. Why not just ride my bike? So, I donned the Frediest Fred attire (including a Harley Davidson t-shirt, red bandanna and rolled up crappy tights as substitute Capri's) and dragged my bike to the door. Just as I opened my front door (next to Boo's terrarium), she ran up and banged her head into the side of the glass trying to get my attention. I swear she's going to knock herself out one of these days.
I figured I'd be gone for a few hours (not so much, but I'll get to that in a minute), so I granted her one final 'walkabout' before I left. Then it hit me, she wishes she had her own little bicycle. Lucky for her, I have one she can use! I forgot all about it. It's a BMX bike too, perfect for a dragon. So, I showed it to her and sure enough, she loved it! No, she didn't ride it, but she did lick it a few times, and I've learned this is her one and only way to show affection (it's impossible for lizards to wag their tails). I took the opportunity to snap some photos (heh heh...not surprised one bit, are you?)
Boo and the bicycle:
Boo with FatHead:
Nose kisses:
Yes, I love my pet. I've now become the cat lady...er...dragon lady. I like that. I'm the crazy dragon lady. Only I can't get a whole bunch of them cause they'd all fight and eat one another. They are very territorial little animals. Boo looks like she wouldn't be in the least bit fierce. Do not be fooled by her appearance. She would take out any other dragon (or other breed of lizard) in her lair if I were foolish enough to get another one. So, it's just one dragon and one FatHead. We make a perfect team.
After Boo's photo shoot (she was more than ready to go back into her terrarium), I took off on Nellie under overcast skies.
Dumbass here waited too late in the day to ride because just as I got all of a mile down the cracked up streets in my hood, it started raining. Sigh. I'm just not a fan of riding in the rain, even on knobbies and I hate having a dirty, wet mountain bike to clean. Now, isn't that a kicker? I'm one of those who wants the mountain bike to go ride in the dirt but who doesn't want it to get dirty. It's such a PITA to clean it! So, I turned around and hammered back to my dry abode to avoid being dumped on.
I'm hoping it will stop raining here soon, so I can go back out. That or I'll be heading to the gym. Today could be a day off (rest/recovery day), but since I have all this (restless) energy, I might as well use it. Staying inside watching CNN is as bad as waiting for the phone to ring! Speaking of...phone just rang. Wasn't someone I wanted to hear from. Maybe riding in the rain isn't such a bad idea...
March 1, 2009
I gotta shake it off
I shouldn't be photographed at present. Sigh. I realize that I snap photo after photo of myself in the standard dork shot, but I skip the body shots. There is a reason for that. I'm fat. I admit it, and I'm trying to lose it, but until I do, I have to embrace the fatage...just not on camera. One picture was taken of me by The Colonel this morning where I was sitting next to my buddy, Vertical Bob (VB), and I erased it, dumped it and made sure it never sees the light of day again. Trust me, I'm not in denial. I know how I feel (and ride) when I'm thinner and I don't feel that way now. Forget how I look, it's how I feel that matters. Well, until I see a body shot of myself.
Anyway, not the real point of this entry. More important to share is the ride itself which was not without its drama. Here's what I envisioned for today. VB asked me if I wanted to ride with him and Stan over the hill (Sepulveda Pass), through Brentwood and down to the ocean, ending at the Rose Cafe in Venice. I've ridden this ride with them many times but not for awhile. Perfect - I'd see VB and Stan and ride a route I've not ridden for some time.
Problem is, I shared with others what I was doing and the next thing I knew, group ride! I'm not opposed to group rides, but I know the cast of characters so well, their personalities, quirks and riding styles, that I was nervous how the various levels and styles would mix. Um...like...um...not so much. Mind you, I like every rider who showed up today, very much so, but by the time we took off, I was ready to smack at least three of them. Grrrr... I likely shouldn't have advertised the ride, but I'm a pleaser and want everyone along all the time.
She's such a kind soul and inspires me, so by the time we'd passed through the (scary) tunnel, I was flying high and back to being in good spirits. The descent to the ocean was fantastic, as always and the weather delicious.
We all made it safely to the Cafe and were joined by a couple of other female riders (Linda and Debbie). We had coffee and carby-treats before heading back out on the climb home.
Problem is, I shared with others what I was doing and the next thing I knew, group ride! I'm not opposed to group rides, but I know the cast of characters so well, their personalities, quirks and riding styles, that I was nervous how the various levels and styles would mix. Um...like...um...not so much. Mind you, I like every rider who showed up today, very much so, but by the time we took off, I was ready to smack at least three of them. Grrrr... I likely shouldn't have advertised the ride, but I'm a pleaser and want everyone along all the time.
After a few prickly moments and my taking off like a bat out of hell at the beginning, I relaxed on the climb. It didn't hurt that Christy, a wonderful woman and strong rider, paced me up the Pass.
She's such a kind soul and inspires me, so by the time we'd passed through the (scary) tunnel, I was flying high and back to being in good spirits. The descent to the ocean was fantastic, as always and the weather delicious.
We all made it safely to the Cafe and were joined by a couple of other female riders (Linda and Debbie). We had coffee and carby-treats before heading back out on the climb home.
It was at this time that I was annoyed yet again. You see, in planning this ride, a couple of folks made such a big deal over my not providing a route slip. My intention was for the group to stay together, regroup and take it easy. I advertised the ride as social and not a hammerfest. But of course, a group of the men wanted to do an alternative route home rendering any route slip useless. I would have handed their asses to them five times over if I'd gone through the trouble of creating a route slip and they then changed the route. Riders at times, although generally considerate folks, can be the biggest ego monkeys going. It's all about 'their ride' and to hell with the others. This is why I rarely plan rides anymore even though I use to love to do it. I stuck back on the way home with the last rider over the Pass. I don't leave riders on rides I plan and today was not going to be the exception.
Nonetheless, I was on my bike with friends...that's always a good day. I think part of what colored my mood this morning as well, was the discussion of my jobless state. No one's fault, certainly, and perhaps I need to admit to others (as well as myself) that I have bad days. I don't feel sorry for myself and don't believe in taking that tactic. However, I also don't acknowledge to myself that needing to be alone and not the pleaser, cheerleading ride coordinator is really okay. I said on here last week that I need a vacation from my lay off...very true. I'm a bit on the grouchy side and water doesn't roll of my back so easily. I gotta shake it off. Today was one of those days.
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