I Ride Like a Girl

Yesterday, Layne and I decided to ride with the Trek group ride for our Saturday date. As they usually only do 20 miles and we wanted to do more than that, we left an hour early and got in 10 before they started.

Those 10 miles got me good and warmed up, so my legs felt great. We were doing a fairly uphill course-- from American Fork into the foothills of East Alpine-- and I had plenty of time to make some interesting observations.

First. My life and the people I know are pretty homologous-- similar backgrounds, tastes, interests, etc... However, I've met some pretty Interesting people in the cycling world. (With a capital I, if you know what I mean.)

I'll call one of them Ebed-melech. (If you want to know the reason, you're going to have to go to Jeremiah 38:7) "Ebed" used to be a man. Yep. You got it. (I guess I should call him/her Ebedina?) I'm never quite sure which pronoun to use for Ebed. Is it "him?" Is it "her?" Is it "it?"

He-She has a death wish, and I guess I can see why. He-She is obnoxious to ride with-- always trying to prove something and darting into traffic to pass other riders. I'm always worried when he-she starts talking to me because, and I know it's hard to believe from me, but I can't find any words to say back. I always think strange thoughts when I'm around him-her that I'm afraid will come out of my mouth without me thinking. Things like, "So. Is it more comfortable to ride a bike as a woman or a man?"

Inappropriate.

Anyway, the second most beautiful thing about yesterday was that about 2 miles into the ride when we started up the hill on 100 East in American Fork, I sailed past Ebed and never saw him-her again.

Tender mercies.

I say the second most beautiful thing because there was one thing even better than Ebed in my rear-view mirror, so to speak.

A little background, before I divulge.

There were nearly 30 people on this ride-- probably about equally split between men and women. As we started, the testoserone-laden half dashed for the front of the group. Team Estrogen naturally gravitates to the back.

Except for me.

As I mentioned, I was good and warmed up when we started. I had also taken my vitamin full of guarana, taurine, caffeine and other good stuff. For whatever reason, I hung right with the boys- up the big hill at 16-17 mph. (I usually do about 14.) I soon passed every woman who was in front of me, and a bunch of the men.

We rode into Highland, then turned west. We rode through Bull River and then turned up the Suncrest road. That is one steep, long incline! However, I just kept pedaling and knocking off the men one by one. Only 2 managed to stay in front of me-- and I have to say that I didn't try very hard to catch them because I began to note an interesting phenomenon.

Boys don't like being passed by girls. Especially ones on pink bikes with pink jerseys and pink sunglasses.

I got funny looks as I motored past. As soon as we'd crest the hills, they'd make sure to fly past me on the descent.

That's okay, boys. Knock yourself out. When push comes to shove, we know who's getting to high ground faster.

I had a blast-- I don't remember the last time I had that much fun on a ride. Layne didn't have as much fun as I did. His Lucky Charms didn't last as long as my Frosted Mini Wheats and he was hungry.

I guess that some days it's okay to ride like a girl. I think that Ebedina must agree.

A Free Woman!

I'm done with my year as the PTA Chief--
The arrival of June has come as a relief.
No more board meetings where everyone's bored.
No more fundraisers or luncheons galore.

I'm done with newsletters and contests and fluff,
I'm done with reports and all of that stuff.
I've cleaned out the closet and thrown out the crap--
I've left some instructions for next year's poor sap.

I do have to say it's been better than expected--
My marriage is in tact and my wits are collected,
But if someone dares ask if I want a second go,
I'll laugh in their face and answer Hell No!

10 Reasons I'm Terrified of the Start of Summer Vacation

10. Wet, near moldy swimsuits and towels all over the place. All of the time. (Compare this to the wet mittens, hats, and coats I complained about 6 months ago.)

9. Stinky sandals. Need I say more?

8. Popsicle sticks. Everywhere.

7. Friend of number 8-- Otter Pop wrappers. Under all of the popsicle sticks.

6. Cleaning up breakfast 5 times, because everyone wakes up at a different time and no one can seem to get their bowl to the dishwasher.

5. Bugs in jars and in pockets. At least we don't have frogs like my sister in Saratoga Springs.

4. The dreaded "Mom I'm" phrases all day long. You know the ones-- "Mom, I'm hungry." "Mom, I'm bored." Now if it sounded like this, "Mom, I'm finished scrubbing the whole house and I'm going out to weed the garden,", I might like it more. (Side note: a friend of mine said that she gets so sick of hearing "Mooooooooooooommmmmmmm", that every once in a while, she tells them she's changed her name and will only respond if they can guess what it is-- kind of like Rumplestiltskin. Might have to try that one.)

3. Sponge Bob music. Maybe I can figure out how to block Nickelodeon from the tv?

2. Fixing lunch for everyone. Why don't they keep school lunch all year and the kids could have somewhere to go for an hour a day?

1. The first three weeks of trying to adjust to kids who think that they need entertained every minute. Hopefully they get through that quicker than last year.

Just when we get a system down, it will be time to go back to school again...

Memorable Memorials

My kids asked me what Memorial Day is for.

I am ashamed to say that I took the lazy mom way out. I could have told them nice war stories about heroes and martyrs and all of that. I could have told them about honoring their anscestors. I could have even told them that it's a day we give flowers to dead people. (Well, maybe it's good that I didn't use that one.)

I just told them that Memorial Day is a day make memories.

We went for a 7 mile bike ride.

We went to McDonald's for breakfast. Seriously-- it would have been cheaper to go to IHOP! When did McDonald's breakfast get so flippin' expensive? It was funny-- and scary-- to see my boys INHALE their pancakes. Man, those boys can eat.

The day was mostly about food. As soon as we finished eating at McD's, we started planning dinner at the cabin. I made my guacamole.

I was a moron and forgot to take jackets for any of us. Luckily, Layne's golf clubs were in the back and he had a jacket. Here's TWO kids wearing it.

Here are my handsome men on the deck of the cabin. Don't look too closely-- they came back filthy.

Perhaps we best honor those who have gone before by making new memories with those we love most, yes? It's got to be better than putting those ugly mum-things on their graves. When I die, don't bring me any of those plants. In fact, feel free to have a party on Memorial Day. I'll try to bring the guac.

Kickin' Butt and Takin' Names

So, right after I blogged last night and finally pushed "send" on the email button, I started having mixed feelings.

I don't think that I have ever told someone off like that before. Granted, email is kind of a cowardly way to do it, but still--

Thing is, I actually stuck to my guns. I not only sent the email, but I also refused to go to the meeting that I was supposed to be hosting.

I got a response back later in the morning-- it made me laugh. It was full of things like "I assumed that you knew", "I assumed that you would have blah, blah, blah" The phrase "I assumed" was in there 6 times.

We all know what happens when you "assume" things.

Here's the funny part. I heard from someone who actually went today that during the meeting, the Dragonlady was very apologetic and said that she was sorry for stepping on people's toes, she didn't mean to come off bitchy in her email (her word, but I would agree), etc... She also said that next year, she will do better and have half as many meetings.

So, I guess that my ranting for once had the desired effect. We'll see next year if anything actually changes. Wait. Maybe not. Not my problem anymore. :-)

I also learned something myself. Sometimes when people come off as bullies, they really just have terrible people skills. Don't know that it makes it any better, but it definitely makes it less scary to call them out for their crap.

I also learned that I'm pretty good at kickin' butt and takin' names. Maybe I'll hire out. Anyone have anyone they'd like to sic me on?

I finally learned to say no...

Without giving a lot of long, boring details, let's just say that the council PTA president has stomped on my toes again-- for the last time. Here is part of the response I just shot off in an email:

You and I obviously do not see eye to eye on the role of PTA and the importance of your council stuff. I made it very clear at the first of the year that I took on this job because no one else would do it, and that I was dedicated to the good of the school-- not to the PTA as an organization. You have tried to bully me multiple times into participating at a level that I clearly did not want to do and I have generally ignored it or pushed back. Quite honestly, as a school, we have had a fantastic year-- we've done great things and I have enjoyed my time as co-president. However, my experience with the "council" PTA has left me ready to take my name off the PTA records.

Has it occurred to you that we, like you, are VOLUNTEERS? The ONLY purpose of the "council" PTA is to support school PTAs. I don't know who told you that your job was to be a dictator and to scare people into doing what you want them to, but I for one am tired of it. I am not getting paid to do this-- and even if I were, I still wouldn't put up with this kind of treatment.

I'm done.

Kim

How's that for learning to say no?

Flats, Bugs, and Bonks

It's 11:47 pm Sunday night and after making posters and videos for school tomorrow (still waiting for one of them to finish "rendering"-- whatever the heck that is), I'm finally getting around to blogging.

I had kind of a surprise yesterday. We decided last week that we were going to ride the 67 mile version of the Salt Lake Century-- that's 100 kilometers, if you like nice, round numbers. Due to weather and other annoying factors, neither one of us felt particulary prepared to ride a full 100 mile century. 67 was going to be pushing it.

My former Cycling Padawan-now-turned-Apprentice Calli decided last minute (we're talking Thursday here) to come with us.

Calli has never ridden more than 35 miles in one ride.

That ride nearly did her in.

Calli not only wanted to do this ride, but she wanted the full 100. (miles, not kilometers.)

I humored her a little and thought--"Once she hits 35, she'll be ready to quit."

But Calli's not a quitter.

Not even when she hits a sheet metal bar and slits her tire nearly in half.

We fixed it with a Wet Wipe wrapper (a mom is always prepared with those, right?) and backtracked 4 miles to the last rest stop where they gave her a new tire.
Here's the awesome guy who fixed Calli's bike. Twice. (I'll get to the second time in a minute.)

By that time, we'd done 25 miles. We could have turned around for a respectable 42, but everyone was feeling good, so off we went.

It felt like it took forever to get to the next rest stop. At about mile 37, you guessed it-- Calli flats out again. Here's Superman (Layne) fixing that one. It took both he and I to get the new tire back on the rim, as new tires are notoriously tight. We both have broken thumbnails to prove it.

Calli's job is to look cute, hold stuff and make witty remarks while we change her tires. She's getting good at her job.

We finally made it to the rest stop. We were about 45 miles in. Figuring in the 10 that we double tracked (going back for the tire change), we decided that to get our hundred, we'd have to ride out about 7 miles, then turn around.

This is me when I still thought that was a good idea.

Most of those 7 miles (14 round trip) were on the Antelope Island Causeway. Long, flat, smooth road-- perfect for riding.

Except for the stench.

And the bugs. I ate them for lunch.

Couldn't help it-- they were everywhere. I'm pretty sure that I flossed 9 or 10 of them out of my teeth when I got home last night. Extra protein, right? Here's a pic I took WHILE riding 20 miles per hour at the back of the paceline. It's not as hazy as it looks. It's bugs.

I never really thought we'd do the full 100.

I guess that's why I forgot to eat.

On an extended ride averaging 18 mpg, I burn just over 1100 calories per hour. I need to be putting back in 250-350 per hour to stay fueled.

By hour 4, I had eaten only 700, maybe.

At mile 80, I started to feel REALLY bad. Here's the thing. When your body needs more fuel in a bad way, the VERY last thing that it wants to do is eat.

This is called "bonking" and it's one of the worst feelings in the world.

Technically, it means that you have used all available glycogen in your liver and muscles and there is simply nothing left.

Bonking comes with some pretty funky side effects. Nausea, inability to stand, hallucinations-- pupil dialation which causes colors to seem very bright-- all accompany this condition.

I had all but the hallucinations.

I forced down some Sport Beans and Gatorade and willed myself not to puke them back up. There was nothing left to do. I got back on my bike and rode.

(I should mention that somewhere in here is where Calli got ANOTHER flat tire-- it was a slow leak, so we pumped it up and the nice guy from above fixed THAT one too.)

I'm used to being the one that finishes strong-- the one pulling everyone in at the end.

This time, I was on the tail end and there was not much I could do about it. Layne (who hardly has any time to ride) and Calli (who had more than doubled her longest ride ever by that point) pretty much dragged my sorry ass to the finish. (Sorry about the swear word, Mom.)

We took a wrong turn at the finish, which added two miles to our journey. Those were the longest two miles ever. That's when the hallucinations started.

(Hey-- how did my bed get on the side of the road?)

Finally, the finish was in sight. We were all so elated (and so out of it) by that time, that we thought we were pro racers and we should sprint for the finish for I-got-there-first bragging rights.

We're stupid.

But we made it.

And I'll never tell who won that sprint.

Here's Calli and I at the finish. This was right before I sat down and nearly passed out.

Here's me kissing my Knight in Shining Spandex.

And here is my proof that, in spite of:

* 5 flat tires,

*a serious case of the bonk,

*2 pounds of bugs (seriously, they alone should have kept me from hitting the wall!),

*a couple of unwanted detours,

*and a strange guy riding a mountain bike wearing spandex and hiking boots,

I rode 100 miles.

I think it's kind of like having kids. Your whole body hurts (especially parts South, if you know what I mean) and you want to die. But, somewhere in there, you get the elation of pushing yourself further than you thought you could go-- then putting in 20 more miles on nothing but will power and the grace of God.

Next time, though, I'm going to remember to eat.

Graduation

My baby's growing up.

One of my first blog posts last fall was about Doug's first day of school. Here he is on his first day:

Now, nine months later, he "graduated" from pre-school today.

We've filled our last treat bucket.

He's gone on his last field trip to the fire station (maybe his last field trip ever, if Alpine School District keeps up their current policy.)

No more bringing toys to school for show-n-tell.

This was a little bit hard for me-- but what amazed me was how hard it was for Doug. Not the face of a happy boy.

He did well through the program, but when the teacher put on a video with pictures of them through the year, he scrambled up on my lap with tears in his eyes. I thought maybe someone had been mean to him or something and I asked him if he was crying. He said, "Not yet, but I'm about to." Then the tears spilled over, he choked down a sob and buried his head in my shoulder.

"What's wrong, buddy?"

"I'm (sob) going (sob) to miss (sob) preschool. (Sob, sob, sob.)"

Poor little guy. He can be such a little piker, but when it comes down to it, he, like his daddy and his brother, has a big, soft heart.

Here he is with his teacher Helene. He went and gave her a big hug and he started crying again, which got her choked up too. I have to say-- any teacher who can get my son's affection like that is gifted-- thank you, my friend.

I think I might cry too, now-- but it's mostly because Doug's graduation from preschool means the end to my ALONE time every Tuesday and Thursday morning for the next few months. If that's not sad, I don't know what is. . .

There's No Crying in Baseball!

I need some coaching tips.


I'm trying to teach 10 little girls to play softball. They look pretty good in practice, but when the game comes, they all freeze up and look like Bambi in headlights.


The pitcher did a great job sweeping up a grounder.


Then she promptly threw it to the short stop. (What?)


The short stop missed the throw and it went into the outfield.


The outfielder threw it to the umpire.


Three runs scored.


That happened twice.

Not to mention that the catcher kept letting runs score because she couldn't see them coming. Why? She wouldn't take off her helmet. Why again? Because it might pull out her hair barrett.

Girls.


This coaching job might kill me.


On the good side, my daughter is LOVING this game. I bought her baseball pants, a pink belt and pink baseball socks, cleats and batting gloves. As soon as she was dressed like a ball player, she started acting like one.


She went 3 for 3 tonight at the plate-- including the longest hit of the game. Granted, she did forget that she was playing second base and let the runner on, and she did pout when her foot got stepped on by another player, but all in all, she's doing great.

She's having fun.

And I'm not dead yet, although next game I might need to take some nitroglycerine pills with me-- just in case. Can you say cardiac arrest?

A Child's Prayer

Short post today to counter the long one yesterday.

After weeks of counting calories and exercising HARD, I thought I was making progress. However, after the weekend (even with or maybe because of the 42 mile ride) I found myself at the same weight I started at weeks ago. How the heck do you regain 7 lbs. in 2 days???

I know, I know-- water gain from the long ride and time in the sun, that time of the month, muscle gain, etc... I'm sure there are logical reasons but it still sucks.

Anyway, I was feeling blue about it this morning as I fed Doug breakfast. He said the prayer on his food and he said something that made me laugh. Instead of praying for the food to "nourish and strengthen our bodies" as usual, he instead said, "please bless the food to nourish and shrink our bodies."

A big AMEN to that.

Made-To-Order-Weekend

I've had way too much fun for the last 3 days to blog. I have, however, taken pics of some of my adventures that I thought I'd share.

Friday, I went on a short ride with my friend Joy. She's recovering from surgery a few weeks ago, so we were taking it a little bit easy. However, she was doing so well that I convinced her to tackle Gunther Hill. Bad plan.

You see, besides recovering from surgery, Joy is also learning how to work clipless pedals on her bike. Hills and clipless pedals are a little tricky on their own, but add decreased endurance and, well, it was a recipe for disaster.

Joy tipped over, foot stuck in the clips. She's pretty dinged up (her bike was a little bit too), but she's all right. Sorry, Joy. We'll avoid big hills for a while.

Saturday morning, Layne and I got out with some friends for a REALLY good ride. We did our Lakeside golf course to golf course route (home to Talon's Cove in Saratoga Springs to Sleepy Ridge in Orem.) 42 Miles total in 2 hours and 40 minutes. It was awesome.

Later that day, Layne was really excited because he said that he had a present for me for Mother's Day that didn't really exist. I had NO idea what he could be talking about. He had taken both of our bikes to the shop on the pretense of getting them appraised for our insurance. It was a trick. He and Kris (the shop owner) had conspired to get my Aeolus wheels redone in pink to match my bike. They are one of a kind (well, I guess TWO of a kind) and they look fantastic.

My bike rocks.

I also ran to Thanksgiving Point to get some beautiful hanging flower baskets for my front porch. I copied my friends who had already gotten some, but they're on a different street, so it's all good, right? I love them too. They are also pink, of course.

Layne and I got our flat screen tv hung in our bedroom finally (after a failed attempt before because of a faulty wall mount.) It looks awesome. I can lay in my bed and watch the Giro d'Italia.

When that little project was done, we finally got to go the the Eagles' concert! We've had tickets FOREVER. I'm not going to write too much about that tonight-- it deserves its' own post sometime. Needless to say, it was very cool.

We got to bed late, but we got to sleep in until 8:30, when my wonderful children brought me breakfast in bed. They also brought me very cool presents-- all of them made me smile.

Emalee made me this necklace at school (which I proudly wore all day) and this bracelet. The bracelet fell apart after she gave it to me, so I spent half an hour putting it back together.

Doug gave me this card, with a cute flower made of peanut M&M's. (Thank goodness it was free day!) On the back was a bunch of fill-in-the-blanks that he answered about me. One said "My mom is as pretty as a..." His answer: "a rainbow with sparkly diamonds."

Doug rocks.

Mikey gave me this cute book that he made called "My Mom" . Same concept as Doug's sheet, but in illustrated book form. This made me laugh so hard that I had to share.

Page 1: "When my mom was a baby, she..." (Mike:) "was cute."

Page 4: "My mom gets mad when..." (Mike:) "I don't listen." (See illustration below. Love the "bla bla bla"!)

Page 5: "My mom is happiest when..." (Mike:) "I read to her." The picture below is Mike sitting on my lap reading the Book of Mormon to me. We do this every school morning and he's right-- it really is one of my favorite things. I loved the picture that he drew. He even drew in the flowers on my wallpaper.

Page 8: My mom's favorite place to go is... (Mike:) "Rome."

Page 10: My mom is really good at... (Mike:) "cleaning."

Page 13: I love you mom because... (Mike:) "your nice."

Page 14: All about the author... (Mike:) "My name is Michael Garrett and I love my mom!" (Kind of sounds like something you say at the first of an AA meeting, but I loved it.)

Layne gave me two more really cool things-- new cycling gloves (as my old ones were pretty much snot encrusted), and a Pink ipod shuffle to use for riding.

Yes. I am spoiled.

Anyway, we went to church and then came home where Layne grilled steaks, made baked potates, roasted asparagus and fruit salad. We then visited our mothers-- who both gave presents to me too! It was like my own Christmas.

Sorry about the long, boring post. I should give a prize to anyone who made it this far! I had such a great weekend-- I hate to see it end. Especially when there is SOO MUCH work to do this week. Guess I've got to start earning a great Mother's Day weekend next year already, huh?

Around the Lake

Today, for once, all things conspired nicely for me to put in some serious miles on a ride. Doug had school for 2 1/2 hours, the sun was shining, I had no PTA or Relief Society obligations. It was perfect.


Except for one dumb thing: You got it-- the wind again. It was coming from the North West, and as I was riding South and West, this did not bode well for me. On a slightly downhill road where I usually ride 22-24 mph, I was working my guts out to hit 17. I knew I was in for a long ride.

I worked my way around the west side of Utah Lake to Talon's Cove Golf Course. Here's a picture taken from the course. If you look very closely, you can see a white dot that is the Mount Timpanogos Temple. My house is about a mile down from it. It seems very far away from here! (About 12 miles or so.) Once I got through all of the north riding and headed East, things got much better. Instead of turning for home at American Fork, I kept going past the dump, to the Lindon Marina on the OTHER side of Utah Lake. Here's me. Having fun. Here's a picture from the Lindon Marina. If you look across the lake in the distance, the settlement there is where Talon's Cove is-- where I took the OTHER picture. It is awesome to see how far you've come in such a beautiful view. I got back at 11:30-- just in time to shower and pick Doug up from pre-school. It took 1 hour and 50 minutes, riding at 17.4 mph average (even with the dumb wind.) Here's my odometer at the end-- 32 miles exactly. I have to say, I was totally wiped out at the end of this ride. I hope that it was just the wind, because if not, I'm in some serious trouble for my 100 mile century ride in June.

Oh Yeah-- one more seriously cool thing. Layne bought us these new insulated waterbottles that I LOVE and highly recommend:
Sorry about the kind of boring post. I had fun taking pics today on my ride-- helped to distract me from the torture of the wind. But, like I always say, a bad day on the bike is better than a day in the house!

Ten Reasons I Keep Getting Roped Into Things

Today was my last PTA board meeting as the co-president. Yeay me! However, I found myself agreeing to be on the board again next year. What???

I should have lied like an un-named PTA president before me and said that the bylaws (which nobody ever reads) prohibit me from serving on the board again. Ever.

I've been considering this blunder all day, and I came up with the following reasons why I just keep getting roped into things.

10. I am genetically programmed to please people. CERTAIN people :-) in my family will give you the shirt off their back while they're wearing it, if you ask. Or if you mention that you like the shirt. Or if you even look at the shirt. Maybe we just like to be shirtless, yes?
9. I am arrogant and think that the world CAN'T run itself without me.
8. I am a glutton for punishment. Yes, Sir, may I have another?
7. I'm not good at sitting still. If there's a minute of my day without something to do, I have to go looking for something to fill it.
6. I like to have stuff on my calendar. I'm scared of empty space. I'm also a little claustrophobic. It's complicated.
5. Related to number 6, I like to check stuff off of lists. Sometimes I write down something on my list AFTER I've already done it, just to check it off.
4. I'm pretty sure if someone asks me to do something, it must mean that I'm important. If I don't do it, I might turn invisible.
3. Some of the stuff I do is actually WORTH doing. (Not all of it, though, I'm afraid.)
2. Doing a lot of stuff keeps me busy and less likely to make cookies. And eat them all.
1. I can speak Portuguese, some Latin, a little Spanish, and more Italian than you'd expect, but I've never learned how to say "No." Except to my kids. And sometimes my husband.

One of these days, though, I'm going to learn that word and take a hiatus from the world for a year. That is, if I can overcome the other 9 reasons.

I think that I have issues...

Two Thumbs Up

So, thanks to my blogging buddies, I recently read three books that I really enjoyed.

The first is These Is My Words by Nancy Turner. This book came highly recommended by a few people and I can whole heartedly agree. The book is written as a journal of a woman living in the Arizona Territories in the 1880s. It was fascinating to me to see how the writing actually improved as the character became more educated and mature. Quite honestly, I thought that the book sounded a little boring at first (not another pioneer story!) but once I got into it, I couldn't put it down. This was one of those finish-at-midnight-sitting-on-the-bathroom-floor-so-I-don't-wake-my-husband kind of books. Two thumbs up.

The second was My Sister's Keeper by Jodi Picoult. The premise of this book is the controversial subject of having a child for the purpose of saving another who has leukemia. The second daughter is suing her parents for medical emancipation so that she won't have to donate a kidney to her sister. At first I was totally disgusted by the idea of this-- what kind of parent would sacrifice one child for the good of the other? Exactly. It occurred to my that I practice a religion based on that same idea.

Every chapter of this book is written from the perspective of a differernt character. I found it interesting how well the author changed voices between a 13 year old girl, a pretentious attorney, a firefighter-father, an 18 year old rebellious brother, etc. The whole book made me think about how things are so very rarely black or white.

There was some bad language in the book and some sexual content that I could have done without-- so I can't whole-heartedly recommend this one for the squeaky clean club. Still, it was a good, thought-provoking read with a pretty big twist at the end-- be prepared.

The third (well, I guess it was actually the third and fourth) were volumes 3 and 4 of the Fablehaven series. I'm such a sucker for a good fantasy series. It was actually funny because Emalee finished up volume 3 in school and we were play-fighting over who got to read volume 4 first. It is strange to want to read the same book as my daughter. We both loved it-- also strange, but nice.

Anyway, I've been using reading to distract myself from the crappy weather. Now that things are starting to look up in that regards, I probably won't be reading as much for a while. (I got to ride 16 miles today. Twice!) But, if you run into something great, let me know! Chance are, it's going to rain again soon. . .

Double Date

After a rainy, cold Saturday, Layne and I needed a pick-me-up. Late in the afternoon, we headed to my sister Nicole's house where we left all of our kids (all 8 of them!) with my other sister Colette and her husband Brady. (Yes, they are very nice and very brave.)

We actually went on a DATE.

Remember those? This wasn't our usual leave-the-kids-for-45-minutes-and-go-to-WalMart kind of date. We actually went to dinner and then bowling, if you can believe it.

I haven't been bowling for years.

I discovered that bowling follows my typical life pattern-- I'm either hot or cold, never lukewarm. (Somebody's gonna have to teach me what that "moderation" word means because I've never figured it out.)

I'm not kidding-- I either get strikes or 1's-- not much in between. (I am the world's most consistent 1-pin bowler.) Layne, of course, kicked my trash, as he does with everything. It's annoying to be married to someone who is better than you at everything.

The foursome next to us were obviously on dates-- one couple appeared to be just meeting each other. It was kind of funny to watch the awkward conversations and flirting going on. I don't miss that.

After bowling, we did end up at the grocery store for a bit (we are old married farts, of course.)

We'll have to try that date thing more often.

What Is That Sound???

It seems that I am destined to spend a lot of time around other females this week. Between PTA, Women's Conference, coaching my little softball team, and Emalee's Girl Only Party tonight, there's definitely been a one-sided gender association for me lately.

I promised Emalee a couple of months ago that, if she would stop being so moody, she could plan a big party after spring break. She kept her end of the deal (and life has been much more peaceful for the rest of us, I must say) so we planned her giant shin-dig.

She made a guest list and invitations.

She made a menu. It included pizza, chips, soda, sugar cookies and candy. All the major food groups. We went shopping.

At 6:00, we kicked the boys out and the doorbell started ringing. Soon, I had a house full of 9 year old girls and I realized I was an idiot. For many reasons. The most obvious was that I am married to an audiologist, yet I didn't think to have him make me any earplugs.

Before all of the girls were even there, a strange and horrible sound began eminating from my house. You know the one I'm talking about-- the one that only little girls can make-- that high pitched squeal that makes you close one eye, roll the other back in your head, and shudder from the chills that go up and down your spine.

And I heard that sound for 3 1/2 hours. Non stop.

We made pizza. (SQUEAL!!!) We played Wii High School Musical (SQUEAL!!) We frosted sugar cookies, (SQUEAL) painted fingernails (squeal!) and played tag (TRIPLE SQUEAL!) I didn't help the situation any by loading them up on Sprite, Skittles and M&Ms. (Did you know that sugar actually seems to increase the decibel level of said squeal?)

They were cute and sweet and even polite, albeit noisy. They all said Thank You and Please. Emalee was on cloud 9. I got to be Super Mom and that is cool.

But next time, I'm getting some earplugs.

And maybe some valium.