Spoiled Rotten.. and Pink

This was the week. The one where it is actually warm enough to brave the weather and get back out on my bike. (58 miles worth) Hooray for me!


This also inspires trips to the Trek AF store, and a considerable dent on my Discover card. I bought a new seat last week and got awesome new cycling shoes for Layne.


Here is my latest acquisition I bought only today:

These are the limited Giro Grand Tour Edition sunglasses. I didn't buy them because they have Zeiss lenses, which are the best you can get. I didn't buy them because they are dirt and fingerprint repellant. I didn't buy them because they are made to fit perfectly with my Giro bike helmet. I didn't even buy them because their design has no mid-line and increases field of vision by 60%.

I bought them because they are pink and they match my bike. (See picture below.)

I already have really nice Smith cycling glasses that I liked perfectly well. However, find me something pink, and I've got to have it.

I expected Layne to say no. Well, not really. He never says no. However, he actually insisted that I get them. I think he feels guilt for using most of the money his parents gave us for Christmas to get his eyes lasered. I keep telling him that was for me too (as I like to see his eyes without glasses), but his sense of fairness means that I keep getting cool stuff. Like new sunglasses and trips to Rome.

See what I mean? Spoiled rotten.

Happy Birthday, Michael

My oldest son turned 7 years old today. 7 years ago, we went to the hospital at 7 am and had a baby 4 hours later. That was the last time he'd be cooperative for the next 2 years.


However, in spite of a rough start, Michael is a wonderful young man now who is very sensitive to others and fun to be around.


He loves science, and chose to go to the planetarium with his grandpa (an amateur astronomer) instead of having a birthday party. I told him I'd make whatever he wanted for dinner-- he chose "mancakes"-- plate-size pancakes. He also wanted a Saturn shaped birthday cake. (Does he remember he has a kitchen-impaired mother?)

Here's what he got:

Saturn's rings, of course, are made of Nerds. Mike seemed to like it.

Here's my handsome boy--

He'll kill me for this one, but this is a common sight when you're around Michael very much. Poor little guy. Keeps growing up and not out. His pants are 8 slims and they still fall down.

Layne Matthew and Michael Layne:

Brothers:

Emalee really wanted to name him Buzz Lightyear. I think he appreciates that we said no.

Happy Birthday, My Boy! We love you!

Out-lawed In-Law In the Kitchen

Layne's brothers and sister have all decided to take advantage of his parents' being around more lately and each of the families is taking dinner up one night a week. My kids love to spend time with their grandparents, so I am all in favor of this plan.

The problem is that I keep screwing up dinner.

I have wonderful in-laws. They have never made me feel like anything less than a loved member of the family. However, like any daughter-in-law, I feel like I should try to impress them.

That never goes well for me. I am not an impressive person. I am even less impressive in the kitchen.

When I made roast and potatoes and the works a couple of weeks ago, I forgot to put salt in the rolls (yuck) and I took the roast out too soon, then dried it out trying to nuke it.

Tonight, I thought I'd make one of my mother-in-law's favorite dishes-- French Onion Soup. I killed myself cutting onions and crying like a baby. I stunk up the house (and myself) cooking them in the crock pot all afternoon. The soup was actually good.

Then I had to have to bright idea to serve it in bread bowls. Bad plan. The bread absorbed all of the soup part of the soup and left a pile of onions in the bottom of a very soggy bowl.

Like I said, not impressive.

Luckily, they love me anyway.

Next week, we're bringing Pizza Hut.

Skinny Tires, Fat Tires, and Nails in Tires?

Interesting and exhausting day today.

Went to get Doug off to school and heard a heart-sickening thud when I put the car in reverse-- I got out of the car to find a pancake where a tire should have been. I was already late, so Doug and I hopped on our bikes and rode to school.

That's when I discovered it was a BEAUTIFUL morning, so I blew off every other obligation I had in the morning and hopped on my bike for a fantastic ride to Alpine and back. Hill all the way up and nasty headwind all the way back, but it was marvelous, nonetheless.

On thing I'm really liking is my new bike saddle. I bought it because it is a little bit wider than my old one and, let's face it, having babies definitely did not decrease the width of my sit bones. However, there are two awesome advantages to this new seat that I didn't expect:

1. For whatever reason, I can ride on this saddle with my cycling tights on and NOT slide off the front. You can imagine that this is a great plus.

2. This is a nice, CARBON seat. I thought that the carbon was just to make it lighter. (Who cares, really, if my saddle is 100 grams lighter than the aluminum frame one when I'm carrying 20 extra pounds around the middle?) However, I'm finding that the carbon absorbs shock from the road, making the ride on our lovely chip-sealed roads much more smooth. I can now comfortably ride on a few of the roads I'd been avoiding because they vibrated so much it was almost indecent.

Anyway, after a great ride and a lot of PTA meetings, I finally got around to changing my own tire. Yep. Girl Power. I have the dirt on my shirt to prove it. I'm not even going to change the shirt before I go to my RS meeting tonight. It's my badge of honor.

Mean Girls

I've said it before, and I'll say it again-- it's hard to be a girl.

Not only do you have the ages of unfair treatment from men to deal with, but the even worse issue is the unfair treatment that we deal out to each other.

I think that I've tried to forget what it was like to be a girl growing up-- all of the back biting, spiteful little things that girls do-- but having a daughter brings it all back.

Who can forget the "secret clubs" and the "you're not my best friend anymores"? What about "she's copying me!" and the "if you talk to her, I'm not going to be your friend?" Let me assure you, those time honored snips are still alive and kicking.

I've discovered something horrible that I never before imagined, though. It is WORSE the second time around. It was bad enough when I was younger and it was happening to me. It is much worse to watch my daughter fight these battles and realize there is very little I can do about it.

Sure, I can try to instill in her a positive self esteem and be there for her and all that crap, but mostly, I'd just like to call the mean girls out! I know, I know--that's not going to help her in the long run, but I'm discovering that being a parent means living on the sideline-- and that's not a role I've ever liked.

Sometimes I think it would be fun to be a kid again-- and then I remember the days when you'd been fighting with your friends and the thought of getting up and going to 6 hours of school with people you were sure hated you was just too much to bear. Everything seems so tragic and final when you're nine.

It seems easier to be a boy. They get mad, they punch each other, and the next day they are friends again. Not us. I still cringe every time I see this one girl that I hated in grade school.

Some things never change.

Bringing Up the Rear

Today's topic: the bidet.

Not a common site here in the good ole' USA. Our hotel in Argentina had one, and most recently, our hotel in Italy was also likewise equipped. Kind of causes me a Crocodile Dundee moment-- I know what the thing is for, but how the heck to you use it?

If you'll notice, there is soap and a towel right by the bidet-- you can guess how those are used. I decided to look up the history and etymology of the thing and cracked up as I read it. I'll share the funny info with you.

According to Wikipedia, the word "bidet" means pony in French and the etymology is that it is so named because you ride it like a horse.

Apparently they are used for more than the obvious-- they are also useful for washing feet and for bathing babies. (I say ew, gross! to that, but to each her own, I guess.)

In Japan, they've invented a combo toilet / bidet which is "paperless"-- you go, it cleans you, then dries you off all in one.

This is a picture of an early bidet concept from the Roman colosseum. Apparently you did your business in this trough, then there was a slave who stood there with a bucket and sponge to be a "human bidet". (Seriously, if you ever think that your job stinks. . .)

My jury is still out on this thing. I've heard that my world-traveling aunt who lives in Lehi likes them so much that she had one installed in her bathroom. I'm not there yet, but, as they say, cleanliness is next to godliness. . .

I Can't Believe It's Over. . .

So, here I am in the JFK airport for a 5 hour layover. My great and spontaneous adventure is over and I have to wonder if I dreamed it all. Here are a few more highlights:

Here's me buying pizza. As far as I could tell, Italians eat pizza, spaghetti and really good ice cream. And that's about it. . .

Here's the only pic of me and Layne together in front of the capitol building. Some little guy took it who could barely figure out how to press the button. We're lucky it came out.

Can I tell you how cool I felt riding a bike around a park in Rome? Dream come true. It definitely wasn't my Trek, though. I think those bikes were built for midgets.


View of Rome from the TOP of St. Peters. I had to climbe 5 million and 3 stairs to get this picture. I still have sore calves to remind me.

Here's Michaelangelo's Pieta-- it is so beautiful I could have cried.

Here's Layne in St. Peter's square. I can't even begin to describe how huge this place is.

This is Trevi Fountain at night. I love this fountain-- we ended up here at least once a day all three days. It is by Bernini and he is one of my favorite sculptors. The fountain looks like it grows out of the building.

This is the Pantheon at night. This was one of my favorite places. I studied Latin for 3+ years and Art History as well and this was one thing I always wanted to see. On our actual anniversary, we ate in front of here at a little sidewalk cafe. It doesn't get anymore romantic than that!

So, now I am waiting for my flight home, starting to think of all the things I've forgotten for 5 days-- schedules, PTA, Relief Society, etc. . . I don't know if I will ever do anything this spontaneous and crazy-fun again, but I definitely hope so!!!

s

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When in Rome (part 2)

Really quick again-- I'm running out of juice for the laptop. We spent most of the day at the Vatican today. It was fantastic! I was able to see many works of art in person that I studied in Art History. Here's me in one of the Vatican museum courtyards.
Here's our bootleg picture inside the Sistine chapel. This place is absolutely incredible.

This is St. Peter's square. It is two football fields from where Layne took the picture to the entryway of the basilica. Please take not of the very top of the building (over 7 stories high)--

This is a picture from the TOP of that dome-- we climbed 332 steps after a 4 story elevator ride to get there. My legs hurt! Here's St. Peter's square from above.

We went back to the colosseum at night. Very cool view.

When In Rome (part 1)

We made it! Another time I'll write about how flying Business class is even BETTER than first class.
I don't have much time and I think I'm starving to death, but here's just a couple of the 200 pics we took today. It was so incredibly cool to see all of this stuff in person!!! (This is taking forever on this internet-- so just a couple of pics today. I'll try more tomorrow)

Here's the Colosseum-- we got to go inside.

Layne by the Arch of Constantine


(below) Trevi Fountain

Fish Out of Water

After 34 years, I've accepted the fact that I'm not chic. Most of my clothes come from Target and JCPenney. I drive a 5 year old minivan that I refer to as the Pigmobile. My house is not fancy. And I like life that way.

However, today I flew First Class and I felt like one of the People-- you know what I mean-- the ones you see on t.v. who own real Prada purses (not the knock-offs the rest of us buy at Ross.)

The seats are huge.

They offered me so many drinks that I ALMOST had to break my no-peeing-on-planes rule.

They brought me a damp warm little towel-- what do I do with this thing?

I got a nice meal with real silverware. I got off the plane first.

They let us in the Crown Room for our layover (which is where I am now.) There are little foods like biscotti and slices of white cheddar cheese.

This is all kinds of fun, but I confess-- I feel like an imposter. I look around and don't see many people who look like they clean their own toilets or shop at Target.

Too bad for them, I say. I like those things. Well, maybe not the toilet part. But it is a great time to be the "other half" for a weekend!

And So It Begins. . .

I am sitting here in a hotel in Salt Lake City at 11:00 pm. Alone.


Let me start at the beginning.

After cancelling our trip to St. George due to expected bad weather, we had resigned ourselves to spending our anniversary in Midway. I was okay with the plan, Layne-- not so much.

In his quest to get out of Dodge, his plans kept getting bigger and more grandiose. At one point, he suggested taking all of the kids to Orlando for a few days, but then realized that our Romantic Getaway would spiral down into a Get-Away-From-Me.

I let him dream-- figuring it was like the time he wanted to buy a BMW Z-3. Especially when he came up with the idea of flying to Rome for the weekend.

I'm not talking Rome, Idaho. I'm talking Rome Italy.

I thought that the kids made a natural barrier to such craziness. However, my angel sister Colette and her husband offered to stay and watch them for us. And, just like that, he booked the trip.

I've had 24 hours to pack, make arrangements, and pretty much dump all of my responsibilities onto whomever had the misfortune to cross my path. (Sorry, y'all.)

My parents graciously offered to keep the kids for tonight (they are also angels), so we booked a cheap hotel by the airport to save ourselves some time and snow travel in the morning, as we have to be at the airport by 5:00 am.

Everything was perfect, until I opened up my bag and realized I left the second most important thing (next to clean underwear) home-- the precious bottle of Ambien.

I don't sleep in hotels on my own-- and without sleep, I get migraines.

So, even though he was already sweet enough to book MY dream trip (instead of his) and to use most of his skymiles so that we can fly first class, my husband ventured back out in the snow to go home for my meds.

Yes, this defeats the stay-in-a-hotel-to-get-an-extra-hour-of-sleep plan. Yes, this might be a rocky start to our adventure. And yes, I am married to the most patient, wonderful guy in the world.

Onto Rome.... I can't believe it!

Frozen Over

When I started my blog, I intended it to be more about cycling than anything else. I forgot about one thing-- winter.

I have to wonder about the fool who came up with the phrase "when hell freezes over" because obviously hell is ALREADY cold. If it's supposed to be the worst place imaginable, for me at least, the "damned" place must be covered in ice.

My own version of wintery hell this year has included 562 grueling miles-- all in exactly the same place-- our small upstairs bedroom. It used to be a nursery, so there are happy little teddybears on the walls, next to posters of Lance Armstrong and some buff chick riding a mountain bike. Add in the bikes locked into medieval looking trainers, along with heart monitors, fans, computer and t.v. screen, weights, balance ball and a yoga mat, and the whole effect is a little bit surreal.

I've spent over 40 hours in that room in the past few months. I've watched the entire first season of House, highlights of 7 Tours de France, and countless episodes of Las Vegas (the only thing on at 9:00 am). I've done intervals, flat miles, and endurance training. All in the hope that one of these days, the sun will come out and I will able to get my bike off the blasted trainer and onto the road-- and not die from exertion in the process.

I'd like to say that all of this exercise has left me slim and trim and ready to ride a century out of the gate. Not so. Unfortunately, I've found 8 of the pounds I thought I'd lost forever. Riding on the trainer is just a sorry substitute for a good ride on the road. Or even a bad one, for that matter. Where the heck is spring???

P.S. I did enjoy my first chocolate in a week today-- gotta love the Lindor Truffles!

Just Another Manic Monday

I'm feeling, well, I'm so sorry, but for lack of a better word, I'm going to have to say bitchy. I tried grumpy and crabby and a few others, but nothing else quite described my state of mind.

It could be the chocolate. It's kind of a funny feeling-- like I walked out of the house without my bra on or something. I just feel like something important is missing.

It also could be that I spent the whole morning doing the two things I hate most-- cleaning my shower and cleaning the pig sty that my daughter calls her bedroom.

As far as the shower is concerned, I've never worried too much about it before, as Layne was always too blind to see it. Now that he's had Lasik, I'm sure he's noticing streaks of mold and mildew that before just looked like black granite streaks. Except that our shower is white tile.

I decided to dig out the grody silicone and redo the caulk. I ended up scrubbing the dang thing with steel wool to try and get all of the gunk off it. I scrubbed and scrubbed and nearly killed myself with chlorine fumes. I hate that job.

As for Em's room-- SERIOUSLY-- how much junk can one 9 year old girl collect? I cleaned her room out really well around Christmas time, so how in the world could there be 15 years worth of crap in a room that was gutted 2 months ago? The kid is a pack rat-- and she didn't get it from me. We'll see how long it takes her to figure out how much of her stuff I trashed.

Now, I know, by cleaning her room for her, I am enabling her pig-like tendencies and all that crap. That's not it. I didn't do it for her. She seems to like her little messy rat's nest. I did it for me because to get to my room, I have to walk past her room and it makes my blood pressure jump every time I see it. So, for my own sanity, I entered the pre-teen realm of no return. Let's see if she notices...

Day 3 and Still Clean

Crazy thing.

Giving up chocolate is easier than caffeine. (So far, that is.)

Maybe it's because I know it's only for a week.

Day 3 and so far, I'm clean. I did have to stop myself from sampling Doug's chocolate milk this morning. And I did have a little debate with myself to determine if white chocolate is really chocolate, but to be safe (and to keep my $5 bucks), I abstained.

I know. I should get a medal.

Make it one of those foil covered chocolate ones...

The Chocolate Challenge

I've heard that the first step in conquering addiction is admitting that you have a problem. Okay. I'm admitting. I'm addicted to chocolate. I am just losing the battle with the leftover bags of Riesens and Doves from the SuperBowl.

I have every classic symptom of addiction. I turn to Hersheys when I am bored, sad, lonely, or ticked off. I get nervous if I don't have at least a little chocolate in the house.

It's not nearly so bad when the weather is warm and I can fix the jones with a good endorphin-producing bike ride. Maybe the sunshine counteracts the cocoa, I don't know. I do know that I definitely struggle with this more in the winter time.

I have a friend who solves the problem by quitting chocolate all together. I'm going to try it. I'm going off chocolate for 1 week-- cold turkey and completely. I will be accountable to my friends and family who read this.

The only thing that I like more than chocolate is winning. So, to raise the stakes, if I fail, I will admit it and any of you who call me on it will get $5. Wish me luck... (Or not, if you want the $5, I guess. By the way, anyone who tries to get the $5 by bringing me stuff with chocolate IN it is DQ'ed.)

Turning Off the News

What goes around comes around, right? Like the title of my blog, life is about cycles. Cause and effect and all of that. I am concerned with one particular cycle right now. (Unfortunately, it is not my bicycle. Still riding inside, but hoping that changes soon!)

What I am referring to is the strange economic cycle we are in right now. We seem to be caught in a bad feedback loop. People are afraid they will lose their jobs, so they save every penny they make. That means that all of the people who work at the fancy restaurants where the first people used to go are at risk of losing their jobs. Those people stop buying clothes at the GAP, which puts the poor GAP workers out of work. The GAP people cancel their Disneyland trips, and before you know it, Mickey Mouse is out of a job.

I've heard the term "recession" many times in my life, but I don't remember it ever feeling this way before. I've never seen it effect so many people around me-- people who I thought should be safe. It's getting hard to keep the fear at bay.

I'd like to see the media do an experiment. In one city, they ought to try spinning all of the news-- especially the economic news-- in a positive way. I'd be willing to bet that the economy in that area would be much stronger than the rest of the country-- people would stop freaking out and things would normalize.

All of the doom and gloom on the news can't be helping things.

I know that faith and fear can't exist in the same place. I know that I can look back at all of the trials in my life and see that good has come out of them-- I'm sure that the same will happen here too. I start to understand the man in the bible who told Christ, "Lord, I believe. Help thou my unbelief." I want to be fearless. I want to feel faith and peace.

Guess I'm going to have to stop watching the news.