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.

Work To Do

Today I went to BYU for the annual Women's Conference. It was strange to be walking around the campus again-- brought back not such great memories. I seem to be in a small minority of people who hated their time at BYU.

That aside, I had a good day. I spent the whole day learning about things that I need to work on. I probably could have come up with them on my own, but instead, all of these nice speakers did it for me.

It wasn't like that, really-- but I did have to laugh at the irony of the talk which gave 4 steps to not overburdening yourself. I seemed to be the only one who thought it was funny.

The best part of the day was unexpected for me. During the opening presentation, the speaker had a lady named Marrilee Webb do a 15 minute presentation/practice of the song "Now Let Us Rejoice." (Tina, I see why you liked singing in her choir so much now!) Did you know that W.W. Phelps wrote that song in the midst of the Saints greatest turmoil in Missouri? When he's talking about the scourges and harvest being over, he's being literal.

Anyway, there were thousands of women in that room and she had us stand and sing that hymn at the top of our lungs. It felt like bearing my testimony at camp-- you know that feeling where you are wrapped up in love and unity and you can see what heaven feels like for just a second? I had this glimpse that all of those women were my sisters and ultimately, we all wanted the same thing.

Too bad those kinds of feelings don't stay around so long. Pretty soon, I was getting jostled around in lines, trying to pick my way around people who stopped to talk in crowded hallways, and bumping elbows with a woman who was taking up way too much of my space. It was far too easy to forget that these same annoying people were the sisters that I felt so much love for hours before.

Like I said. I have a lot of work to do.

What It Feels Like To Ride Up the Matterhorn

The wind finally stopped blowing this morning. The sun was shining. The road on 300 north was finally repaved and cleaned up. Doug was at pre-school. This was the recipe for a perfect ride.


I was feeling great, so I headed up to Alpine. I figured that a little climbing would do me good. (What was I thinking?)


I got into Alpine pretty quickly-- love those new wheels! I was feeling so good, that I decided to tackle the Matterhorn. Matterhorn Road, that is. This picture is at the top of the road: (Point is, there is NOTHING higher.)

The road gets real steep, real fast. Before I get 100 yards into it, I'm already shifted down into my "granny" ring (smallest chain ring in front.) I start shifting down my cogs in back and before long, I run out of them too. I'm less than 25% into the climb, and I'm already as low as I go. This can't be good.



I push and push and get about a third of the way up-- and that's when the fun really starts. That's when the grade gets to be about 9% or so and you have to keep pedalling or you'll fall over.

Just about then, my heart starts pounding in my chest so hard that it hurts. All of those health websites tell me that my maximum heart rate should be about 185. I wasn't wearing my heart rate monitor, but I know that my heart rate was faster than the beat of the Offspring song I was listening to-- at least 180 beats per minute. Also not good.



I finally got to the halfway point of the climb where God (and the city of Alpine) put a little flat with a STOP sign. Although I tend to run stop signs when no one is around, I made sure to stop at this one. For like a minute. Here's the view from here- and, trust me, the picture doesn't do it justice. (You'll notice the hill from the picture above at the top of this road.)

I seriously considered turning around at this point, but my competitive drive pushed me on. After I stopped, it didn't seem so hard. For about 10 seconds, anyway. Then, my legs started to HURT. I am tempted to stand up and let my body weight help me push the pedals down, but I know that will just drive my heart rate up even further and, well, that might kill me. I keep my butt on the seat.

I try every trick I can think of. I count my pedal strokes. I only look up every 50 yards or so. I am breathing so hard that it feels like I will suck up all of the oxygen in the city. My lungs are burning and my mouth tastes metallic. I'd like to take a drink, but I'm afraid to take a hand off the handlebars. I try to spit. Nothing is there.

My chest hurts and I start seeing stars. What the heck am I doing? Why do I get so excited to come out and do this-- this sucks! I must be nuts.

Just when I can't pedal one more stroke, I reach the top.

I am sucking wind and considering puking, but a little old couple is on a walk at the top of the street and they are already looking at this spandex-clad freak like I'm from Mars. I keep my puke to myself. I turn around, and this is what I see:
This picture also doesn't do justice to the view. I can see the Temple in the distance-- I know that my house is just a mile down from it. No wonder people pay so much to live up here.

Now for the reward (besides the view, that is). I start down the hill. It takes about 1/5 of the time to get down as it did to get up. My speed hits about 35 mph and the adrenaline kicks in. I realize that if I sneeze or jerk, I will probably die. What a rush!

I did nearly 20 more miles after that. By the time I got home, I was feeling spent. (That doesn't bode well for the 100 mile ride I'm supposed to do in 6 weeks.) I've been ravenous all day. Good thing that I burned nearly 1800 calories on my ride.

I think I'll go get a shake.

Wind Blows!

They say that smoke follows beauty.

I think that wind must too.

All I know is that the wind is seriously hampering every activity I attempt. :-)

Besides knocking down the branch in my yard last week (ok, Wind had help from Snow on that one, but Snow's not my friend either), Wind is making it awfully hard to ride my bike.

Wind made Michael's baseball game miserable.

Wind is making it hard to get my garden planted. Okay, maybe Wind is giving me a good excuse on that one.

I'm tired of picking up branches blown down from the tree in my front yard.

I'm tired of rides being harder than they should be because I'm fighting the wind.

I'm tired of not sleeping because I'm afraid the wind is going to blow a branch into my bedroom.

I'm ready for nice weather already, dang it!

Why It's Not Okay to Throw Like a Girl-- Even If You Are One

One of that hats I'm wearing these days is a baseball hat that says "Coach" on it. I spend 2 hours a week trying to teach 8 nine year old girls how to hit and throw. Specifically, how NOT to throw like a girl.

Now normally, I wouldn't encourage non-lady-like behavior. (Well, maybe I would, but my definition of lady-like may vary from some of yours :-) However, when you're talking about baseball (or softball, as the case may be), there's nothing worse than throwing like a girl.

You'd think that I'd be offended by that, wouldn't you? I should at least defend our gender and be upset at such a generalization. The thing is, it is true.

Nearly every girl I've ever seen initially throws, well, like a girl. Sort of that timid little come-from-behind-the-head-push-it-like-a-shot-put kind of throw. You know, the one that goes right at the ground. About 10 feet away.

My sons don't throw like that. They are not super-stars, by any means, but they instinctively throw correctly. The boys on Mike's baseball team, while 2 years younger than the girls on my team, throw better and harder than the girls. I can't figure it out. What I do know, is that after weeks of hard work, my little Em (in the catcher's equipment in the pic) is finally throwing like a boy. It's one of my greater accomplishments.

So, girls, it is wonderful to be feminine-- except when there's a baseball glove on your hand. And, boys, if someone tells you that you cook like a girl, think like a girl, or talk like a girl, you should be flattered. But if they tell you that you throw like one, and rightly so, you'd better find a good coach.

PTA = Pain in The Arse.

I haven't blogged for a few days-- I've been busy.

One of the too-many hats I wear lately is that of PTA co-president. This hat is an ugly one sometimes and like a hat that's a little too tight, it gives me a headache.

Luckily, my sentence for wearing this hat is nearly up. There are 24 1/2 days left of school (but who's counting?)

To be perfectly honest, this job hasn't been as bad as I thought, but it definitely has its moments. Like this week.

Today was our fundraising walkathon. We've been working on this for weeks. We've begged and pleaded for funds and prizes for local businesses. (I hate doing that!) It's taken countless hours of planning and preparation. Amazingly, it went really well.

We raised over $6,000 today and I am breathing a sigh of relief. I've been so amazed at how generous people have been, in spite of the rough economy.

Mostly, I am just glad to have one more thing checked off my list.

Parent Teacher Association or Pain in The Arse? PTA stands for both, I guess.

24 1/2 days and it's not my problem anymore.

Ahhh. Relief.

The Great Wabbit Hunt

Hallelujah-- it finally feels like spring!

True to form, Layne came home with two sets of the awesome carbon wheels we demo'd on Saturday. Wicked cool-- that's pretty much all there is to say.

I've been dreaming about them all weekend. I couldn't keep my mind on church because my thoughts kept drifting. (They kept getting rudely pulled back by the speaker who was discoursing on the topic of living prudently. I tried not to feel a little guilty.)

I took them out this afternoon. Finally a ride with no jacket or tights. I wanted to see what they could do.

I went toward Saratoga Springs. I know that route very well-- I knew how fast I could do it pre-Aeolus, and I wanted to compare and see what they really did for me.

I thought I was flying.

After a while, I'm cruising along about 20 mph and I see a cyclist up ahead.

"Hehwoh, Wabbit", I think to myself. Sure, Wabbit is 1/4 mile away, but nothing can evade me and my Pink Monster today. I start pedaling faster.

I'm gaining on the yellow-jerseyed, white helmeted Wabbit quickly. I must be Superwoman.

I'm ready to pounce. I get my breathing under control so that when I pass the Wabbit, I can completely demoralize him with the obviously minimal effort it took me to pass him and leave him in my dust.

Except that my Wabbit was not really Wabbit. It was a little old lady (think like 80 years old) riding an ancient cruiser with white hair (no helmet) and a yellow polyester shirt. (NOT a cycling jersey, although they are made of polyester too. But they're different. I promise!)

Mostly I felt bad flying past her and her dentured grin. And I felt stupid that it took me even that long to pass near-dead Wabbit.

Guess you can't win them all.

Love the Salt Lake Marathon! (Bike Tour, that is)

Layne and I just got back from probably the most fun organized ride we do all year-- the Salt Lake Marathon Bike Tour. What makes this ride so much fun is that they close all of the roads-- 26.2 miles of fast, closed roads. Sure, we had to get up at 4:00 in the blessed am, but it was worth it.

Besides riding with a new riding buddy (we'll call him Brian), we were conducting an experiment. Layne and I were test riding carbon aero wheels from Trek

First off, we were trying to see how much of a difference carbon wheels REALLY make-- are they worth the booku bucks they cost? Secondly, we were trying different kinds to see which one was better. (After extensive testing-- up and down our street-- unfortunately for our checkbook, the more expensive wheels really were better.)
We tried really hard not to leave our newbie in the dust. He did a great job keeping up with us-- even with our slowing to wait for him a few times, we still averaged 18.5 miles per hour. There was one point on the Van Winkle Expressway where we really wanted to try them out-- we were riding in a paceline with each other at 30 mph easily.

Verdict's in: carbon wheels rock. Seriously-- feels like you're floating.

I don't know if we'll get them or not-- knowing Layne, probably yes-- either way-- they contributed to the most fun I've had in a while! (Thanks, Nicole, for keeping the kids overnight for us!)

Last Day of Spring Break

All in all, we've had a fun week. We've done something fun every day (well, fun for the kids, anyway ;-)


Layne took today off. We slept in (hooray!) then went up to the Alpine Arts Center. Due to some cool trading on Layne's part, we were able to commission Dennis Smith to do a painting for us. It's not finished yet, but here's a preview. I love it. I will post better pics when it is finished.

Yes, that is our house and our giant tree in front. (Maybe I should make him paint over the branch that fell down and take out the bushes by the front door that I just had ripped out?) One funny thing-- our family is in the pic-- Em's riding her bike, the boys are playing on the lawn, Layne was raking leaves (haha) and I am sitting by the tree. With another little girl. Where'd she come from?

Anyway, after that, we went to the Salt Palace to get our registration stuff for the marathon tomorrow and then to this awesome (and awesomely expensive) Italian restaurant for real Italian pizza and gelato. I know, that's not diet food, but I was reasonable about it-- and I'm down 5 pounds so far! Then we went to REI and I got some new Keen sandals. Good day for me! Even makes up for having to go swimming yesterday!

The Sky Is Falling!

Yesterday was one of those days when nothing went quite right-- everything seemed harder than it should have been.


I slept terribly the night before. A planned trip to Ikea was cut short when one of the kids puked. Attempts to help a friend get ready for a trip were ineffective. Layne had a crappy day at work too, and by the time night came we were both pretty well spent.


Our kids had a cousin sleep-over, and we counted it as a pretty big accomplishment that we had 6 kids asleep by 11:00 pm. In we settled for our long winter's nap.


At 2:00 am, there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter. The streetlight was shining on new fallen snow (in April?), giving luster to the TREE fallen on the lawn below.

Yep. The CRACK then THUMP! was a HUGE branch falling out of our elm tree in front.

As I had 5 boys in the house, when I heard the sound, I assumed it had something to do with them. I got that adrenaline feeling-- heart beating fast, shallow breath, muscles tense-- you know the one-- and had to check everything out. Once I decided that the kids were fine (they slept through the racket), the Jeep parked in front was fine and that the house hadn't been hit, I tried to go back to sleep.

It took hours for me to get back to sleep-- and just as I did, CRACK, THUMP!-- another branch had broken off and fallen out of the tree-- right across the driveway. That was pretty much it for the sleep. After that, every sound I heard was another branch breaking.

The branch was too big for us to move out of the way, so I drove Layne to work so that I could have a car. Needless to say, his foul mood from last night has not improved any-- neither has mine, although I'm starting to see a little humor in the situation. It's either laugh about the whole thing (and be grateful that it wasn't worse!) or cry.

Spring Break Day 2

So, I am still here.

In Antartica.


After looking at the forecast and realizing that it was going to be rainy and bad in St. George for two days too, I weighed my options and decided to stay. Really, who wants to be cramped up in a tiny hotel room with 3 crazy monkeys?


No thanks.


We went to Kangaroo Zoo instead. (That was a nice follow up to Hogle Zoo yesterday, I thought.)

I am still "on the wagon", FYI. I have even survived Easter candy, so far. (We won't talk about the free weekend I proclaimed.) I gave the kids each a gallon sized ziploc bag, told them to put all of their treats in it and hide it somewhere from me-- and if they left it out, I would throw it away.

It's worked so far. I have seen the occasional Reeses wrapper lying around (I am trying to avoid licking them clean :-) but overall, it's going well. It needs to be. This is too flippin' hard to ruin for some crappy Whopper eggs.

I can't wait for Saturday-- it's the Salt Lake Marathon. No, I'm not running it. (Are you nuts?) Two hours before they start the runners, they let cyclists ride the course. 26 miles on closed roads in Salt Lake-- it is a blast. Anyone want to join?

Sprung Break (Not a spelling error.)

Spring Break has sprung. Today we went to the zoo with 11 of our closest friends. It was an adventure, as the oldest was 10 and five of them were under 3. It would have been more fun if the rest of Utah wouldn't have been there as well. Everyone else checked the weather report to see that today was going to be the ONLY good day of the whole break. That stinks.
I'm seriously considering packing the kids up and heading to Southern Utah for a few days. I can't seem to make up my mind. Layne can't come, so I would be taking the brundt of the kids spring break energy on myself. Although, if we stay here, I will still get most of that energy plus the cooped-in-nothing-to-do energy.

It looks like this week blows for me no matter which way I go.

Hair Day

I have awesome sisters. Each of them has talents they are kind enough to share with our family. Lucky for me, they all live close and I see them often.

My sister Nicole is a hair stylist-- and a very good one at that. She spent the whole day yesterday at my mom's house doing 11 haircuts and/or colors. It took about 8 hours, all told. She must have been exhausted, but she was so nice.

Here's a few funny pics:

Caleb

Dougie begged to have his hair "bleached" too.

Em getting a weave. Mike said she was getting her hair "tie-dyed"

I think I made a mistake-- she looks way too grown up like this!

Thanks Nicole!

My Easter Addiction

So, the Easter Bunny came last night and he brought me an awesome new toy:


For years, we've had our cell phones through Qwest--I'm talking like 9 years. We got a postcard the other day saying that they were no longer offering wireless service, so we had to find something else.

This was reason enough for Layne to go on a quest. (No pun intended:-) He went to a seminar about selling to different groups of people-- and they said that Generation X stalks their purchases-- which is exactly what Layne does.

He went to all of the cell phone places and sat in front of the computer for hours. He tried to explain it to me, and I finally had to stop him and tell him I had the same amount of interest in this as he had when I was deciding what color of ties to buy the boys for Easter.

He came home with iphones yesterday.

I've been strictly on the bare-bones phone for all this time. It did NOTHING but call and get calls.

Now, I have this super-cool thing that I can't seem to put down.

I played on it until 1:00 this morning. I've been looking for cool grocery list apps and ringtones all afternoon. I can blog from it! Coolest of all, there's this weight loss coach which tracks how much you should be eating, what you ate already, figures in exercise, etc. to help you make whatever goal you set. Love it! (Plus, I think twice about eating anything because I am dang slow at the touch keyboard thing.)

So, I am officially announcing my arrival into the 21st century. The only problem is that iphones don't come in pink!

My Easter Basket

Remember how cool it was to get an Easter basket when you were little? I remember one time, the Easter Bunny gave us Easter sand-pails instead of baskets and he hid them under our beds. I also remember always getting a new spring dress and how much fun it was to go to church.

I've been thinking about Easter Baskets and that it would be fun to have one now. Although, now that I'm in Diet Hell, I guess I'd have to forgo the Snickers and Cadbury Eggs. (Sigh.) Here's what I'd want the Easter Bunny to bring, if grown-ups got baskets. (And no, Layne, you are NOT to go out and get me this stuff!)

* The new U2 album. What I've heard of it so far has not made me run out and buy it, but if the Easter Bunny's giving it to me free, then what the heck?
*New cute black shoes that I can wear with skirts without nylons. I've been looking for the perfect shoes for months with no luck. Maybe the Easter Bunny knows the shoe fairy.
*A gorgeous new Easter dress that makes me look like I'm a size 6.
*A whole bunch of the light blue kind of Stride gum-- I'm chewing a lot of it lately to trick myself into thinking there's something good in my mouth.
*A copy of These Is My Words by Nancy Turner, as that seemed to be the book that everyone I know recommended to me after my last unfortunate book review. (Note to Shaunte-- you were right. I'll be dead before it's my turn to check it out of the library.)
*New mascara. I know that I need to replace mine, but I'm too flippin' cheap.
*A new lawnmower that works like those Roomba vacuums. Wouldn't that be the bomb?

Not much, right? He is magic, after all. . .

Day 2 Am I Skinny Yet?

It seems like every day of dieting takes Herculean efforts and should immediately be rewarded with, oh, say a 5 pound loss. The more you try not to think about all the yummy stuff you're not eating, the more it stays on your mind.

I know, I know-- don't tell me all that stuff about "eat what you want in moderation". I'm not on that kind of diet. I could probably write a book about eating right, losing weight, exercise, blah, blah, blah.

The problem is that I don't know how to eat a bag of peanut m&ms "in moderation". Five of the little beauties isn't going to do anything for me but whet my appetite.

Besides, this isn't one of those changing-my-lifestyle-gonna-eat-this-way-forever kind of things. This is the I've-got-a-hundred-mile-ride-coming-up-in-8-weeks-and-I've-got-to-get-the-winter-weight-off-my-butt kind of diet.

It didn't help (or maybe it did) that the first talk of General Conference was on overcoming addiction-- and he lumped food into the same category as debt, pornography and drugs. Right as I was happily munching on a chocolate Reisen. Talk about a downer.

Once upon a time, I thought that at some point in my life, I would once and for all conquer this issue and I could move on to the next in a line of endless character flaws. Elder Hales' talk made me realize that, like the apostle Paul who was cursed with some lifetime weakness himself, some weaknesses are never going to go away. They are conquered on a daily basis, but just because you came off the victor today, doesn't guarantee you anything tomorrow.

So, I've had two good days. I pray for one tomorrow-- and that's about as far ahead as I dare look!

Back on the Wagon. Again.

It was a bitter sweet day-- mostly bitter. Today, I hauled my fat butt back on the healthy wagon. That wagon left me behind about 6 months ago and the results are not good. I guess I thought that, because I worked so hard to lose weight, that it would never find me again.

Boy, was I wrong.

Here are my top 7 signs it's time to get serious about losing weight (again.)

7. I started justifying my food choices-- Doritos are made of corn-- that makes them vegetables?
6. When I put on a t-shirt, my inclination is to pull my knees up in it to stretch it out.
5. I have to weigh myself twice because I'm positive the first one CANNOT be right.
4. My five year old mentions, "Gosh Mom, you sure like chocolate a lot lately!"
3. Instead of being happy for my friends who have recently lost weight, I hate them. (Just kidding, guys! Sort of.)
2. I take extra long showers-- just to steam up the mirror so I don't have to see myself.
1. I'm dreading washing my jeans because I lose circulation in my feet after they come out of the dryer. (Can I get one more day of wear out of this broken-in pair?)

So, it is with sadness and trepidation that I venture back into the world of keeping a food journal and eating carrot sticks. (Ugh.)

The problem with round two is that I know what works, and I remember how hard it is. I know that, if I want to have any hope of finishing that 100 mile ride in June, I've got to get serious, though.

Here's to celery. . .

(Sigh.)

Random Friday Thoughts

Random thoughts on my mind.


1. Thanks to my friend Helene, I actually made one of those sugar Easter egg things today with Doug. I have proof.

Very domestic of me, huh?

2. As Layne has been gone, I chose bribery (as opposed to beating) as my form of zookeeping this week. I promised my kids that if they gave me ZERO trouble at all while Layne was gone, I would take them to Monsters vs. Aliens 3D. We went and here's my review: it was all right. I know, my usual level of verbosity (is that a word?) is lacking here, but that's all I came up with. They liked it though, so it's all good. I'm wishing that I wouldn't have eaten popcorn and Cadbury eggs for dinner, though-- and now I'm thinking I've got to go make up for it on the trainer.

3. I stayed up until 2:00 in the morning last night finishing The Time Traveler's Wife. I have to say, I'm actually embarrassed to admit that I read it, as it contains some language and graphic imagery that is definitely not suitable for children or adults who give a rip about morality. I am confessing my faux pas for one reason-- to let you all know that I have ripped up that BBC reading list. I am now in search of a list of good reading material that is NOT offensive. Is there such a list? Does it contain any books that don't have pictures?

I did join www.goodreads.com last night, if anyone wants to be my book-friend. And I should probably stop reading for a little while, as a few things have gotten neglected around here. (Laundry? What laundry?) Maybe I'll start that plan after I read the new Fablehaven.

The End of An Era

I am sitting here, by myself (Layne's in Dallas-- at a Joan Jett concert, if you can believe it! He says he's working, but I don't know. . .) Anyway, I am sitting here by myself watching the last ER-- Ever.

I remember watching ER with my roomies at Utah State. When I came home from my mission, I sat and watched all the ones I missed. Luckily, I married a guy who likes the show too. It's kind of been our thing. I've spent a good percentage of the Thursday nights of my adult life watching this show.

Really, I don't know why. It's not like the show wasn't always about the same people. Even when the actors left, they essentially found someone to just step into the vacant role. If I'm being completely honest, it was mostly a weekly soap opera.

ER is the only show that I could tell you what day and time it's on. On the NBC site, there is a trivia game that I seriously kicked butt on. Here's my list of top ten ER moments.

10. The one where Abby and Luke get back together for good.

9. When Mark asks Elizabeth to marry him with the ring in the freezer of their new house.

8. The one where Doug Ross helps the little boy when he's not supposed to and eventually ends up leaving. (That was a SAD, SAD day.)

7. The ones where Carter goes to Africa to save Luka.

6. The Christmas one where Peter gives up surgery at county to be with his son and Cleo.

5. When Lucy and Carter get stabbed and Lucy dies.

4. Abby and Luka's wedding.

3. The very sad episode where Mark Greene died. (Did you see his daughter come back as a med student tonight? Talk about tying up loose ends!)

2. Dr. Romano's untimely demise. (Remember when the helicopter landed on him? After the helicopter cut off his arm, you'd think the guy would have stayed FAR away.)

1. Carol leaving everything to follow Doug Ross.

In trying to make this list, I had to laugh a little at all of the people who have died on this show. They're not kidding when they call it a drama.

What I really want to know is what the heck I'm going to do with my Thursday nights now?

Added later: The last episode is now over, and I have to admit I feel a little like something died. I may have to go find the bag of Cadbury Eggs I had Dougie hide from me this afternoon. We all grieve in our own way. . . :-)

My Three Fools

I don't love April Fool's Day. Yep. I'm a scrooge here too. I've never liked playing practical jokes much-- seems like a lot of effort for no good return. Obviously, I hate being the brunt of them too.

My mom used to play a trick or two-- she'd put a paper towel in the middle of our sandwich or leave the wrapper on the cheese. Never really appreciated that either.

My kids didn't inherit my practical streak. They woke up at 6:00 this morning. They turned every picture in the house upside down on the walls. They rearranged all of the furniture in the living room. They turned all of the dishes upside down in the cupboards. They switched all of the cereals inside of the boxes. They hid one of every shoe in the house. It's like gremlins moved in.

When we came down, they were bursting at the seams with mirth at their trickery. They did pull off a lot of "foolery" for three little munchkins. I tried to think they were funny, but mostly I just had to roll my eyes.

Here's the problem with practical jokes-- somebody has to clean them up. Sure, the kids tried. But, guess who had to go around after them straightening pictures, putting the furniture where it belonged, and putting away stray shoes?

The real joke was the weather. What is with waking up to a blizzard? I was supposed to drive Layne to the airport early this morning, but I chickened out when I saw Mother Nature's little joke this morning. Guess she got us all. Wonder who's going to clean up her mess?

Expanding My Horizons

Like everyone else on Facebook, I recently came across the BBC list of top 100 books (in England, at least). I'd read about 40 of them, but most were the classics-- you know, Lord of the Rings, Pride and Prejudice, A Tale of Two Cities, etc. .. I decided to tackle the list and make myself a little more well read.

(Side note. Here's the funny thing. There are MANY copies of this list floating around-- none of which I could find on the actual BBC site. I can't even find the copy of the original list that I had on facebook, so I can't link you to it.)

Armed with my library card and a copy of the list, I headed to the public library. I checked out 4 of the books. I've read three so far and here's my review. (Because I'm sure that everyone gives a rip what I think.)

Love in the Time of Cholera by Gabriel Garcia Marquez. They recently made this one into a movie. It was rated R-- that should have given me a clue. I'm never quite sure what to do with books that cross the nasty line, you know? Do you just try to skip those parts-- be your own version of Clean Flicks? That's what I chose to do with this book-- and, quite honestly, that is pretty much my impression of it. I'm giving it a C.

The Life of Pi by Yann Martel I liked this one. It reminded me a lot of Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad and Lord of the Flies by William Golding-- kind of that "battle the beast within" thing. I learned a lot about sloths and about Hindus. These two subjects take up about the first third of the book or so-- you kind of have to slog through them to get to the real story. It's a good read, though. I'll give it a B.

The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon I liked this one a lot. This one flirted with the nasty line too, but not as badly as Cholera. However, Shadow has a much better story line. It is kind of a love story / mystery / adventure-- it's not one of those books that fits into a tight category. Everything and everyone in the book ends up connected to each other somehow-- that seemed annoying at first, but then you understand that is the point-- how things connect and stories happen time and time again. At least that's the point I got out of it. I could be blowing smoke. I gave it an A- and I'm sending it with Layne on his business trip this week.

It's been good for me to read books by authors of different nationalities. My literature experience, while probably more extensive than some, is still very heavy on the British / American side. Sometimes it's good to realize that there are many different perspectives in the world than the narrow one we hold ourselves.

The fourth book that I checked out was a second one by Marquez-- I haven't started it yet and, after the last one, I'm not sure that I'm going to. We'll see if there's anything better at the library. (And if I can talk Emalee into checking out something besides the Babysitter's Club. Seriously, did you know there's over 100 of them and she's read almost all of them? Talk about needing to expand some horizons!)

Moron Of The Day Award

If there were an award for Moron of the Day, it would be mine, hands down today. Typically, I am more than happy to point out when that award should go to others. (i.e. the old guy who almost hit me the other day.) In the interest of fairness, I'll give it to myself today. I deserve it.

I may have bitten off more than I can chew this month. I won't bore you with all of the crap I'm doing, as I'm sure that you are all shoveling loads of your own. Let's just say I've got more shovels than hands and it's not going well.

Today was a PTA council awards luncheon. We nominated a teacher and a volunteer to get a nice plaque. I got the names and bios turned in. Got the principal invited and a substitute for the teacher's class. Lunch starts at 11:30. At 10:15, I realize that I FORGOT TO INVITE THE GUEST OF HONOR.

She, of course, was at the school helping the teachers and was gracious enough to drop everything and come.

I dropped the ball.

Then I did it again.

At 3:50, I start wondering why Em and Mike aren't home from school?
Crap.
Michael.
Emalee had achievement days today and I was supposed to pick him up. The worst thing is that he tried to call me. I was tired of talking on the phone and didn't recognize the number, so I didn't answer.

I picked up the poor little dude. He was just sitting there in the wind, looking at his Star Wars book.

Yep. I graciously accept this award. Now that I am officially in the Moron Club, I'll try to be a little more tolerant of my fellow morons in the future. Or not. I am a moron, after all.

Sloppy Jose's

I've been trying a few new recipes lately, trying to relieve myself of the end-of-winter blahs. Admittedly, some are better than others. Here's an easy one that my family loved.

Note: They might have liked it because I named it something funny. (It's essentially Mexican Sloppy Joes, so I called it Sloppy Jose'.) Like the time I told them that curried chicken and rice casserole was called Jafar Chicken (from Aladdin). They ate it up.

Here it is:

Sloppy Jose'

1 lb. hamburger (or ground turkey for you health nuts) browned and drained
1 envelope of taco seasoning
6-8 slices of cheese (I like that monterey jack with jalepenos in it)
lettuce
tomatoes
4 oz cream cheese
1/2 c. salsa
1 loaf Italian bread

Brown the hamburger and add the taco seasoning with a little water. Cut the loaf of bread in half lengthwise and scoop out the insides-- leaving about a 1/2 inch bread shell. Mix the salsa and cream cheese and spread on each side of the bread. Place the bottom bread half on a cookie sheet and fill it with the taco meat. Place the slices of cheese on top and broil until the cheese is melted. Layer with the tomatoes and lettuce (unless you're Tina and you hate tomatoes), then put the top on. Cut into 2 inch slices and serve!

Insult to Injury

Let's make no mistake about the fact that I love to ride my bike. (I'm sure that was something that you were wondering about at this point.) However, even I have my limits.

We also have established the fact that I hate the cold. So, I've had to set my own personal threshold as to the temperature outside when it is too cold to ride. 38 degrees. That's it. Any colder, and my nose runs and snot freezes.

When I took Doug to school today at 9:15, I decided that I would ride IF the thermometer met my conditions. My car said it was 39. Off I went.

What my car doesn't tell me is windspeed / windchill. There was virtually no wind by my house. That changed about the time I got into Highland.

Suddenly, I experienced the same thing on my bike that I had in cleaning my house yesterday-- working my butt off and making VERY little progress. It's bad enough to be going uphill, but to have the wind AND gravity pushing you down is just a slap in the face.

My plan was to get into Alpine and climb the Matterhorn hill. I was lucky to get to the roundabout just past the "Welcome to Alpine" sign before giving up on my northward trek. To add insult to injury, when I climbed into Alpine, the thermostat dropped 6 degrees-- well below my Good-Riding Threshold and into booger-freezing territory. In the process of trying to remedy the situation, my tissue flew out of my hand and I was left with booger-cicles for the rest of my ride. (You're welcome for not posting a picture of that one.)

I keep trying to remind myself that riding in the wind just means that I burn more calories. There's got to be an easier way. . .

Groundhog Day

Remember that movie Groundhog Day where the guy lives the same day over and over again? I think that I got stuck in that loop.

I'll admit that I have a routine. Every Monday, I do the laundry and scrub my house. I was actually nearly excited to do it today, as it didn't get done last week (stupid PTA!) and was in SERIOUS need. So, at 8:00 am, I start.

I worked my butt off all morning mopping floors, scrubbing sinks, washing counters and the like. then I moved on to the family room. I vaccuumed out the couches. I cleaned out the coffee table drawers. The place was looking good. I headed upstairs.

Meanwhile, the groundhog struck. The groundhog's name is Doug.

While I'm scrubbing bathrooms upstairs, Doug is emptying all of the color books and video games onto the family room floor. My nice clean family room turned quickly into a pig sty. When I came down and found the mess, I got upset and made him clean it up. He did a 5 year old job, so I had to step in a clean the room-- AGAIN.

I thought that if I got him entertained with something, I could finish the upstairs in peace. I got out his water paints and set him at the table. Pretty soon, I hear suspicious noises and, you got it, the Groundhog had struck again. He decided that waterpaint looked good on the chairs and table. Then, when he tried to clean it up, he dumped his whole bucket of brackish water-paint water on my nice clean floor. For the SECOND time today, I mopped the floor, washed the counters and wiped out the sink.

It is now 3:00 and I am barely finishing. Finish is not the right word. Perhaps quitting would be better. I think that I will stay in my grungy scrubbing clothes and leave the do-rag on my head, just so that Layne knows how hard I worked today.

Guess I'd better go see what the Groundhog is into now. . .

Ode To The Old Guy Who Almost Hit Me Today

This poem is for you, crusty old guy in the Ford—
Your driving this morning just could not be ignored.
You see, miles on my bike I’ve logged more than a few
I know the rules of the road—MOST people do to.
But there’s always one moron, and to be blunt and bold,
The moron is usually on a cell phone, or old.

The cell phone types forget they’re driving their cars—
They’re speeding along with their heads in the stars.
The solution to this problem is easily known—
Get your head in the game and HANG UP THE PHONE!

But I digress, Mr. Ancient Ford Driver,
Your “skills” today barely left me a survivor.
Unfortunately I can’t fix this one complication—
Your driving—it stinks! It’s no exaggeration.
Just because you’ve slowed down and the world moves right past you,
Doesn’t mean that the traffic will do the same too!

So, when you’re going to the store to get your Depends and Ben-Gay
Do me this one favor—let me know you’re on the way.
If I know that you’re coming, I won’t be so let down—
I’ll just plan to ride on the other side of town!

Waking Up

As stupid and cliche' as it sounds, I feel like I am finally waking up after this long winter. I've been on 3 good rides in the last 5 days. My legs feel tight, my face has a flushed, slightly sunburned feel and there is a perpetual smile on my face. Goodbye winter. Goodbye depression.

I know-- next week is supposed to be cold. I can accept that. I've had a few really good days to get me through it.

I've seen funny things as I've been out riding. 2 dead road kill skunks-- was it a suicide pact? A dead horse on the side of the road-- okay-- not funny. A little black calf running on the parkway trail just like a dog. Lots of pasty, tubby people in spandex riding bikes with great big grins on their faces. Man, we're a goofy looking lot.

I love spring. . .

One Thing Leads to Another. . .

One of my first blog posts-- in fact, many of the first ones-- were about my feelings toward the American Fork Pressurized Irrigation Project. To refresh your memory, they were not GOOD feelings. My experiences this week haven't changed that.

After tearing up our streets, they arbitrarily put green boxes wherever they wanted to in our yards. They told us that we had until the end of March to hook our sprinkling systems up to this new water system, otherwise we'd have to pay $250. (Does the word "blackmail" ring a bell?)

As our sprinkling system is near our house, and their green box is by the road with a sidewalk in between (Seriously-- they couldn't have put the box 10 feet to the right on the OTHER side of the walk?), we decided to pay one of the groups that came around offering to do the hook up.

They told us it would be $300 (normally $200, but it was extra far away and across a sidewalk. GRRR.) We said go. They got started right away and dug to the water main. That's where the problems started.

The valves were shot in the main box. They said another $200 to replace that. One thing led to another, and to make a long story short, 2 days later, we're up to nearly $8,000 to be able to use the city's pet project.

The sprinkler guys have been very nice. They should be. We're paying their mortgages for a few months. They tore out the crazy overgrown bushes in front of the house for free. Now the house looks naked and the yard looks like a war zone.

What I find especially ironic about the whole situation is that, between the kitchen and the yard, we've sunk nearly $25,000 into the house in the last year, but the house is probably worth about $50,000 less than it was the year before.

At least I won't have to water the yard by hand this year. Maybe my flowers and garden can last past August this summer. . .

Broken Bat Dreams

My dad loves sports. He wrestled and played football in high school. He played ward basketball when I was growing up. Most of all, my dad loves softball.

I remember one year when he played on a team with my mom's brothers, a team from his work and on the ward team. Every night was filled with softball games or practices.

Being as my poor dad had 5 daughters and no sons to pick up the sports legacy, he did the next best thing-- he bought me a baseball mitt. I think that I started to play to get his attention, but eventually I played because I loved the game. I still love it.

I've been waiting for 9 years to be a baseball family. We've done the soccer thing-- that's all right-- but what I really want is to cheer for my kids as they hit home runs and strike everyone out.

I learned this week that my dreams are probably not going to come true.

Mike had baseball tryouts yesterday for the rookie little league. We bought Mike a new mitt and I oiled it and broke it in. I worked with him and with Emalee all week. They both throw like girls. I told them that. Mike was offended. Emalee, of course, answered, "I AM a girl!" I answered just like my dad always answered me "Well, you don't have to throw like one!"

Poor Mike-- Layne and I both worked him over all week long. I thought that we had made some progress by Saturday morning. We took him to the tryout and I sat on the bleachers and waited for my superstar to perform.

He forgot everything we taught him. He was off in la-la land as balls soared past him. The try-out coach-guy had to show him how to bat. (ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? We worked on that for HOURS!) He swung at every pitch and missed them all.

I felt bad. I told him "Good Job, Pal!" but really, I was feeling let down. I could hear the sound of my dreams shattering-- they sounded like a broken bat.

I know, I know-- he's only 7. But so were the other kids who were rocking it up on the field. I guess I'm just going to have to hope that he has fun and that I learn to bite my tongue a little.

At least he was cuter than all those really good kids. ;-)

Social Armpit Injustice

Layne and I had an interesting conversation the other night that has been on my mind. The gist of it is this-- why is it socially acceptable for men to have hairy armpits but not women?

Lest you misunderstand my point, I am NOT advocating the picture on the right. We all know that is gross. (Sorry for posting something so revolting, but I have to make the statement.) What I want to know is why men don't have to shave their armpits too?

Hairy armpits are not useful and are not attractive. On anyone. Men shave their faces-- they could just as easily shave their pits. They obviously know HOW to use razors. It's not a big stretch.

When I suggested that to Layne, he seemed to think that a man shaving his armpits was as gross as a woman not shaving hers. Why is that? Who made that rule?

When I am Queen of the World, one of my first acts will be a Hairless Armpit Mandate. Especially for those crude construction workers who insist on wearing dirty tank tops to work. Maybe the second mandate will ban those. . .

Sunshine Fix

I've been feeling down for days and days. By down, I mean down-right pissed off and grouchy. I couldn't figure out what the problem was-- timing's wrong for PMS and there were no other peripheral reasons that I could establish. Seriously-- I didn't want to leave my Lazy-Boy today.

Somehow, I talked myself out of the house and onto my bike. It took me until 1:30 to get myself out. However, once I finally got out and going, I miraculously started feeling better. I actually came home with a smile on my face.

I think that I just needed a fix. Some sunshine, wind in my face, a little speed-- I think it does the same thing for me as a hit of meth does for a junkie. I don't get the same buzz riding the trainer inside-- and that's all I've been doing for over a week-- and for months before then.

Winter and I are in a duel to the death, I'm afraid. Spring's got to get here soon or I may rot in my beloved chair. Either that or move to San Diego. . .

The Carbon Line

My padawan Calli made mistake number one in the bike universe today. She rode carbon.

When she went to buy a bike, I told her not to test drive anything that she wasn't willing to buy. Accordingly, she tried a cute little aluminum frame Trek, loved it and bought it. She has loved that bike for 9 months now. Until tonight.

Like a new convert, she's converting everyone around her to cycling-- including her mom. Calli found a bike on KSL.com for her mom and went with her to buy it. Then, without thinking, she jumped on the bike to try it out.

She only rode it around a parking lot, but it was enough to incite adulterous feelings in her. She called me immediately, and all I could do was empathize. You see, the same thing happened to me.

I had a perfectly good FX myself. Then Layne upgraded to a Madone and got me to try a full carbon bike. I bought it the next day.

What makes a carbon bike $2000 better than an aluminum one? I can't explain it. It's like the difference between eating store brand chocolate chips (which aren't that bad), then tasting a Lindor truffle. You can't really describe why one is so much better-- it just is.

It will be interesting to see what Calli does. She has more self-control than I do-- perhaps she can make herself forget. Maybe she'll talk her mom into a trade. Either way, she can't undo what she did tonight-- once you've crossed the carbon line, it's impossible to go back!

Now Hiring Guys Named Doug

There are funny signs like this all up and down I-15. This one is right across from one that says "We have too many Mikes." I've been trying to get a picture of it too, but I haven't captured it yet. (Yes, I did take this one WHILE I was driving.) They are particularly funny to me, as I have sons named both Doug and Mike.



I posted this one today, though, because Doug really is an awesome little kid. I took him to the doctor the other day to get his kindergarten check up and 4 shots. Ouch! While we were waiting for his turn, about every 5 minutes, some kid would start screaming bloody murder. Doug started to look scared.



He went through all of the check-up stuff and then came the dreaded shot time. He was so awesome. He layed there on the table, somewhat offended that he had to pull his pants down and the nurses could see his Power Ranger Underoos. They pulled out the needles and waited for him to scream, but he didn't-- they were amazed.



They did the first two shots and he said "OUCH" and gave them a dirty look. They told him that he was the bravest kid all day. Of course he had to tough it out after that, so they gave him two more and he didn't make a peep. They said he was the coolest kid they'd ever seen.



I was so dang proud! (Especially considering that when I took Emalee in for her shots at that age, she wrapped herself around the legs of the exam table and started yelling, "Grandma, SAVE ME!!!" It took 3 nurses and me to hold her still for her shots.)



I told Doug he could have a reward-- what did he want? A nice hot, steamy bath.



No wonder Omniture is hiring guys named Doug. Everyone should.

Now I'm the TV Star

I can't let Layne have all the fun. My mom, two of my sisters and I went to a live taping of Good Things Utah today for Mom and Colette's birthday. (Yes, they do have the same birthday, in spite of my mom's best efforts to keep that from happening.)

It was really interesting to see how things work from behind the scenes. I don't watch the show all that often-- every once in a while when I'm folding clothes or something-- but it was really fun to see how a live show is made.

It was funny to see how they all talk amongst themselves about anything (like the rest of us), up to about 2 seconds before they go live. Then, they all stop mid-sentence, put on their game faces, smile for the camera and start the tv shpeel. It would be an interesting job.

Today's guest announcer was Thurl Bailey-- former Utah Jazz player turned singer / sports commentator/guest speaker/etc. Man, that guy is huge.

If you're wondering, I did get to be on tv for about .5 seconds at the very end.

Yep. Now I'm waiting for the agents to start calling. "Who was that girl?"

One more thing. Here's my little video of the GTU girls taping their promo for the next day. Just for fun.

Married to a TV Star

Layne's going to be a tv star. Comcast convinced him to do some television ads, so we went up to their studio to tape him. It was really interesting to see how they do the taping and everything. More importantly, I have pictures of Layne being made-up.

He had to read his lines about 20 times until he couldn't hardly remember what the words meant anymore. It was a little bit tricky to keep Doug silent for all that time, but he did a pretty good job.

The bummer is that we don't have Comcast-- we have direct tv, so we'll never see the commercial. Y'all will have to let me know if you see him on.

Private Parts (of a bike)

What a gorgeous day! I had to waste a little bit of it to have an MRI done on my knee (finally, after 10 weeks), but at 10:30, I set out on my newly tuned bike.

Picking up where we left off in the fall, Calli and I hopped on our sleek beauties and pedaled south. The wind was coming from the south, and we figured it would be better to take a headwind while traveling down hill on the first half, than to hit it on the way back. Down to the lake we went.

We got to the Lindon Marina and most of the way down the beautiful new trail that starts from there, when Calli started to hear that tell-tale hiss from her front tire. It was a slow leak, so we left it until we were in a more convenient place to change a tire.

The actual tire change went well, until we had to remount the tire and we found that Calli's brakes and quick release system were all kinds of screwed up. We could get the wheel set, but then it would make sounds like a killer whale when it spun. That's not good.

I say "we", but I mean "me", as the whole time, Calli was mostly observing my labors. You see, Calli has a policy against touching the "private parts" of her bike. I guess it's a matter of privacy or something. Apparently her policy doesn't extend to me.

In the end, my wonderful husband had to come rescue us, as we had run out of time. (I was late to pick up Doug and her husband had to get to work.) We took the bike to the shop, where Wayne (the best bike mechanic in the state) laughed at Calli and told her to sign up for their maintenance 101 class. I guess that's where you learn about private parts.

I think it's like babies. When I had my first son, I was all kinds of nervous about diaper changes, as he had equipment that I didn't have. Soon, however, it was old hat and by the second boy, I could change a diaper, drive, and talk on the phone at the same time. Maybe with enough practice, Calli and I can get that good at fixing our bikes too.

A Tune-Up

Saturday was perfect riding weather. The only problem (and a major one at that), was that I had obligations all day and was unable to take advantage of said weather. They were great obligations-- a baptism for a nephew and a birthday celebration for my son, but I was still tempted to blow them off and ride.

Partly to avoid temptation and partly because my bike needed it, I removed temptation altogether and took my bike to the shop for a tune up.

You should see it now. It needed a new chain (and don't think that I don't feel cool for riding my bike so much in the last year that I WORE OUT a chain!) and a good cleaning. It got new cables and brake pads. My bike looks and rides like new.

Got me thinking. Where can I go to get a tune-up? I want to go somewhere and spend $150 and come out like new. I would like new hair, new make up, the broken parts replaced or fixed, and everything bright and shiny. Anybody got that phone number?

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.