Changes and Updates

I changed the blog template, and I think that the old one is lost forever (Blogger no longer supports it).  So, I'm trying to find something I like.  Of course, I've now spent hours fiddling with the blog, moving pictures around, fixing things.  So much for the blog being a time-saving alternative to a scrapbook.  Did I ever mention that I've decided that the purpose of my blog is an online scrapbook, because I will quite likely never get around to creating paper ones?  Yep.  I'm working on being honest with myself.

While I'm being honest with myself, I really do need to learn HTML. The Blogger editor is driving me crazy.

Here are some posts that I backdated, that you might have missed:

3/26/11 Happy Birthday Gary
4/1/11  Autism Blue
4/8/11  Pinewood Derby
4/8/11 Another One Gone
4/23/11 Easter Eggs

As you can see, I am so far behind, it's not even funny!  But I've been messing with the blog for for over 6 hours now (!!) and it needs to stop.  I'm off to hop on the bike and get some exercise.  Happy reading!

Saving the Fish, an unintended novella

As often happens, Sunday was a long church day.  There was a Ward Council meeting before church began.  After Sacrament meeting, I reviewed Girls' Camp finances with the Bishop and Ward Clerk instead of (a) going to Sunday School, where I technically should have been, or (b) preparing my lesson for the third hour youth class, which I should have done in advance, but didn't.

With the financial issues mostly hammered out, I was feeling okay about completely winging my lesson for the young women.  Running late, I met up with Gary in the hallway, who passed me some much-needed Advil - the previous day's fundraiser had taken a toll on me.  As I neared the drinking fountain, pills in hand, the Bishop caught up with me, and informed me that the Stake President, who was visiting that day, wanted to sit in on my class.

Side note: I've written about my girls before, and how much I love them. They are many things - wonderful, smart, kind, caring, fun-loving - but the one thing they are NOT is reverent.  It's usually a pretty noisy, boisterous lesson.  Normally when I teach, I've prepared well enough that when they go off-topic, I can bring them back.  This was not one of those times; I was expecting a messy, unorganized free-for-all.  And now, it would be witnessed by the Stake President.

My eyes widened, and I stared at the Bishop in horror.  When I confessed that I was completely unprepared for the lesson, he just chuckled and said "You can handle it, Sister Poulsen.  I've seen you teach those girls."  I must have looked unconvinced, because he continued, "Just take those Advil and get in there.  It will work out fine."

The purpose of this post really isn't to talk about my lesson (or even church), so I won't go into detail, except to say that, while rocky, the lesson did go well, and the Stake President showed no outward signs of horror.  I tend to forget that he is also a parent of teenagers, so he understands.

After church ended, the rest of my family left, and I stayed behind to finish up on some of the financial stuff, as well as talk with several people.  When I finally got into the car an hour later, I was starving... and had forgotten to pack a protein bar.  Gary called, and promised to put eggrolls in the oven.  I salivated the whole half-hour drive home while planning an afternoon of relaxation with the newspaper - maybe even a nap.

As soon as I walked in the door, Sarah told me that her fish water was really foggy.  Heading over to her, I saw that it was murky beyond description, with two very unhappy goldfish trying their best not to move near the bottom of the tank.  The filter had stopped working.

As this was the third filter that had quit on us in the last two years, I was pretty frustrated, but moved quickly into "save the fish" mode.  I know we are living on borrowed time with these Wal-Mart goldfish, but - heaven help me - I'm not letting them go without a fight.

Ordinarily when I clean, I leave the fish in the tank, and do a partial water change.  Because this wasn't an option, I quickly grabbed the fish net and transferred the fish into a goldfish bowl filled with fresh water.  If fish made noise, their sighs of relief would have been instantaneous.  They looked much happier, and I relaxed.  A fish funeral had been avoided.

For most people, this would be a logical pause point. Goldie and Nemo were safe, swimming in their bowl; the life-threatening urgency is gone.  There's enough time for the person who has gone without eating for the last 6 1/2 hours to get some lunch, right?  Not if Sarah is your taskmaster!

Sarah doesn't handle it well when things go wrong, and she was dangerously close to a full-out meltdown.  But, my blood sugar was low, my decision-making skills impaired, so I risked her wrath anyway.  I headed upstairs to eat, only to find out that the oven hadn't even gotten up to temperature - so no eggrolls yet.  Arrrggh.  Back to the fish.

I started removing the plastic plants, and noticed a lot of uneaten fish food granules.  They were falling like rain from the plastic leaves.  I checked the container of fish food, which normally holds a year's worth of food, and it was almost empty.  Opening the filter top, I quickly realized that the filter motor overheated and died in a valiant attempt to remove insane levels of partially dissolved fish food.

By now the eggrolls were done, and it was time for a quick meal.  Sarah stayed downstairs, worrying and obsessing.  After eating, Gary headed to Wal-Mart to buy a new filter, and I continued the clean-up efforts.  Sarah had some trouble with the trip to the store, as it was Sunday, and we don't go shopping on Sundays to observe the Sabbath.  I told her it was always okay to make exceptions for health emergencies - and her fish needed the filter to get healthy again.  Since this was venturing into "gray" area, she had real trouble with it, but since her beloved fish were involved, she didn't berate us too much.

You might be wondering how so much food ended up in the tank.  Sarah is a rule-follower, and the rule is two tiny pinches per feeding, so she wasn't the primary suspect.  Turns out that Madi was the culprit - for reasons known only to her, she decided to feed her sister's pets a year's worth of food in one swoop.  I think she realized she fed them WAY too much, but knew that confessing would get her in trouble, so she decided to pretend it didn't happen.

Such a valuable life lesson, yet so difficult to learn, even for adults.  Ignoring things doesn't make them go away, and often makes things worse.  To her credit, she immediately offered to help clean the whole tank (once her involvement became obvious), but I wasn't comfortable with that.  Instead, she ended up scrubbing all of the aquarium plants as punishment for causing the almost-disaster.  Thankfully, Sarah went outside to swing and calm down a bit (without prompting from me - progress in self-regulation!), so we were able to continue cleaning without her hovering.

Once the tank was cleaned, refilled, and the new filter installed, I wanted to wait a while before re-introducing the goldfish.  They seemed reasonably happy in their bowl, even though Madi had dumped a bunch of food in there.  (Really??  Did you not learn a thing from the tank adventure?  Leave your sister's pets ALONE.  Go feed the hungry rabbit in the corner!)  This was probably the hardest part for Sarah; I knew the tank needed time to stabilize and the new filter needed time to clean the remaining sediment from the water, but all she could focus on was that her fish were not in their home.

We made it through the day, the fish were put back in the tank, Sarah went to bed, and everyone was still alive in the morning. A success story.

Oh, and all those plans I made for how to spend my Sunday afternoon?  Yeah, right. Welcome to parenting.

Almost Ready...

Well, in the name of training for Pedal & Paddle 2011 (I leave in 15 days), I had my longest bike ride ever* today - 45.95 miles.  My "coach" - the owner of the local bike shop, who I paid for a professional bike fitting complete with training tips - told me that you should always have some rides that are farther than your event distance.  Somehow, I think he meant more than 0.95 miles above the event distance.  Oh well.

The last 5 miles were not pretty - my abs were so exhausted that I was ready to hurl, and I kept asking myself - "WHY do I DO this??"  Giving up wasn't an option - there wasn't anyone to call to come get me - so I just powered through, and was overjoyed to reach my driveway.

I actually felt OK at first; I came inside, downloaded my Garmin data to my laptop (over 2700 calories burned!), had a protein shake, and took a shower.

Then it hit.  Suddenly, my body was having a hard time regulating temperature, and I got the shakes.  I laid down in bed, and instantly fell asleep.  The brief nap helped, but I still ended up overdressing the rest of the afternoon because I was so cold.  My lungs weren't very happy with me, either - seizing up every time I took a deep breath - but I expected that (damage from a bout of pneumonia in my teens).  I was starving, but my intestines were so overworked they couldn't handle much more than toast.

I am not optimistic regarding the 45 mile ride in two weeks - it's a much hillier course than what I rode today, and I don't think I have time in my schedule to get in another super-long distance ride.  I better pray for an extra helping of that "mental toughness" my high school track coach used to preach about.  That, and some new bike shorts, extra padding.  :)

*I believe that, in my teens, I did at least one 50+ mile ride, but that was in the days before computers, when distance was calculated by actually reading a map.  Needless to say, it was long enough ago that I don't recall any details.  So let's just say that 45.95 miles is my longest ride ever.

Awesome Bumper Sticker

Isn't that the truth?

Last Day

Yesterday was Madilyn's last day of occupational therapy with her therapist Kristin.  Madi made great strides in her year in therapy, and I'm very proud of her!

She and Kristen focused primarily on fine motor skills, with a brief foray into vestibular rehab during Madi's "dizzy period".  Kristen successfully taught Madilyn many things that are normally under the parenting umbrella - like shoe tying, buttons, snaps, etc.  I comfort myself that, if I can't teach my kids these things, at least I hire someone to do it for me!

Madi and I are are both super grateful for Kristen and all she's done.  Madi is really going to miss her time at therapy, but at least now she's free to go hiking the trails with Mom while Sarah continues with her therapy sessions.

Walking home

Here are some pics from yesterday; Sarah actually agreed to walk with me to meet Madi as she walked home.

When will this girl stop growing??  I guess that's what happens when you have a tall dad...

Ah, the pose.  We're getting to the drama age.

And this is why the walk home took so long.  The girl simply cannot leave a dandelion unpicked.  :)

By the way, has anyone ever tried to explain the life cycle of dandelions to an insistent child who refuses to give up or accept "I don't know"?  She just wasn't getting how the flowers turn to the fluff, and - to be totally honest - I didn't exactly know.  We found lots of blooms, and lots of puff balls, but nothing in between.  I had to google it to find out what happens.

For the record, the bloom closes up, the yellow turns to white, and it opens back up into the puff ball that all kids love and all adults (with lawns) fear.  I still don't know much more than that.

Trouble with Reverence

Last night, immediately after saying her prayer, Madi picked up a (soft) toy and threw it at her sister's head, bonking her square in the forehead.

Me: "Madi!  That wasn't nice!  Would Jesus do that?"
Madi:  "NO!  But He didn't have a sister with autism!!"

Sigh.

Sarah was being pretty disruptive during the prayer, and sometimes I really struggle with how much patience I should expect from someone who's 9, when I'm often equally exasperated.

Better Together!

If you read my previous post, you know that I planned on doing the Book It 5K solo this morning, because I thought Madi would be too sick to join me. As you can see from the pictures, it didn't quite work out that way.

After finishing up this morning's blog post, I got dressed, stretched, and went in to tell Madi (who was still sleeping) that I was leaving, and that she should stay home because she was so sick. This didn't go over well - at all. She INSISTED on going.

Reluctantly, I agreed that she could go, but wasn't optimistic for how the day would play out. I just hoped it wouldn't be a repeat of the first time I took her cross-country skiing (when she sat down halfway down the trail and declared she was done. Period.)

It was barely drizzling when we left the house. I, having almost no experience with outdoor events, placed WAY TOO MUCH trust in weather website predictions, and left my hat, rain jacket, and other gear at home. The first indication that this was a mistake was when, during the drive, my wipers couldn't clear the windshield fast enough to see clearly. By the time we reached the parking lot, it was a steady rain, but at least we could see.

I dug through the car's emergency kit, and came up with a couple of rain ponchos and a hat. Keep in mind that the car's emergency kit is NOT where we stash our most fashionable accessories. I ended up wearing a large blue poncho from the Smithsonian National Zoo covered in a bizarre mix of zebra stripes and animal sketches. You will not see photos of me wearing it here (or hopefully, anywhere). Madi had a nice, orange-tinted transparent disposable poncho, and a shockingly pink baseball cap with the Pink Panther on it, courtesy of Owens Corning Fiberglas insulation. 

We went inside the library to check in - no trouble there.  

Got our t-shirts, put on our numbers, and stood outside under the awning, waiting for the start.  By this point, it was still raining pretty steadily.  I took Madi by the shoulders, looked her in the eye, and asked her if she was sure that she wanted to do this, because it was going to be pretty miserable.  "Yes, Mama, I'm sure.  I REALLY want to do this."  (side note: I have no idea why she calls me Mama.  She came up with it on her own.  I certainly have never encouraged it.)

As you might guess from the weather, there wasn't a huge turnout for the event.  All of the smart people stayed home.  But, here we were, and we were going to make the best of it.  When they took us out into the street for the start, it seemed that we had been granted a reprieve - the rain had stopped.  While we stood and waited for the start horn, Madi told me that she had this all worked out.  She had a plan about how she was going to run this race.  Somehow, it involved a Webkinz horse...?  Whatever.

When the horn blared, we trotted onward and began our race.  I really, really tried to follow her lead, but, well, that didn't work out.  I simply can't sprint full-out for 50 feet, then stop and walk. We ended up with a compromise solution, with periods of jogging followed by brisk walking.  About a half mile into the run, the skies opened up again with a steady rain.  By this point, it didn't really matter much - we were already wet.

I have to say that I am really proud of Madi.  It wasn't fun, especially when we had to run through a big, deep puddle - it was on a trail, and there was simply no way around it.  There's something disheartening about running in wet socks.  Complaining was really kept to a minimum, on both our parts.  :)

After the second mile, she really didn't want to run anymore, but kept up a good walking pace.  It was kinda fun, doing something like this together, getting a chance to talk.  We ran the final stretch, and there were actually still some people at the finish to cheer us on.  (Later we were emailed the race results - official time 48:18, 74th and 75th out of 120 women.  I was 18th of 29 in my age group, Madi was 8th of 12 in hers.)

Here's Madi with her finisher ribbon and complimentary water bottle.  The dazed look is not just poor photography skills.  She really was that tired.

Once we got inside, we had to take a picture together.  I stole the hat, because I really don't wear wet hair very well.

They had some post race treats; we gobbled our banana and donut snack quickly, and headed out.  Maybe if it had been sunny, we would have lingered longer, but we were both so wet we just wanted to get home.

So, bottom line, composed several days after the race:  I am not a fan of running on real roads.  It hurts.  The next day my shins were sore, and I was walking funny.  Give me a cushioned treadmill, and I'll consider running as a hobby.  BUT - as an activity to spend some time with my daughter - it was awesome.  I will gladly put my body through that again if that's what she really wants to do.

I asked her today if she wanted to do another 5K, and she said "Yes!... but only if you can sign up for one that's on a sunny day."

I think we'll be doing this again someday.

uh-oh

In March, I  had this crazy idea that I would run a 5K this spring.  I was half-heartedly training for it - running on the treadmill because it was too warm to ski and too cold to bike.  Then, Madi committed to do it with me, and I figured I was off the hook - she wouldn't be able to run the whole time, and I could easily keep up with her.  Just fun times, bonding, and hopefully starting a tradition of exercising together.

So...I didn't really train much, and just started cycling instead.

Last night, the night before the event, was a bit of a turning point for me. I realized that the cold that Madi had been fighting had taken a turn for the worse, as she struggled for hours to fall asleep because of the coughing.  As much as she wanted to, she shouldn't go... but that didn't let me off the hook! I would be appointed to run it for the two of us.  Uh-oh.

Cue weather - I was able to calm myself with the weather forecast - 80% chance of thunderstorms.  No one is going to expect me to run in a thunderstorm, right?  I was comforted in the early hours by the sound of torrential rain.  I was able to fall back asleep, sound in the knowledge that I could back out with my pride intact.

When my alarm went off a little while ago, I opened up my laptop to check the weather maps.  Sure enough, pouring rain.  But when I checked the hourly forecast, it said that from 8 - 11am (the time of the event), there was only a 10% chance of rain.  In disbelief, I checked the radar maps - and sure enough, there is a huge break in the clouds.

%#!$.  Looks like I'm going to be running.  Check back later to read the gory details.

My little girl...

who still picks dandelions for me.  :)

Feel Good Moment

Last night, the church youth group that I lead had a movie & manicure night.  It was wonderful to see so many of the girls there! I love these girls so much, and they seem to like me too... at least I hope that's why they give me so much grief.

Part (all?) of the good-natured ribbing focuses on my "advanced" age. We talk bedazzled walkers, Parkinson's, Red Hat Society, Alzheimer's/memory loss, "olden days", who gets my iPhone & Macbook when I die...if it's age-related, they harass me over it.  It happens a lot.  In fact, I can't think of a single time we've been together when they haven't had some old-age zinger - or maybe that's just my ancient brain forgetting.  :)

Last night, one of the girls used an inappropriate term to describe someone, and I called her on it. Her reply? "Boy, Sister Poulsen, you sure have good hearing for an old person!"

After the laughing subsided, one of the other girls asked how old I really was. I love this question, so I told them to guess. After the immediate cacophony that resulted (in which I couldn't really hear a single answer), I told them I was 45, and was met with complete and utter disbelief.

Okay, I really want to believe that it was sincere, but if it wasn't, then they all deserve acting scholarships.  They were that good.  One girl, who I'd venture to say is not my biggest fan, was stunned, and said "No way.  Mid-to-late thirties, maybe.  I never would have guessed 45.  Ever."  Other girls were saying it just wasn't possible.  (See why I love these girls?)

So, here's to rockin' the mid-forties!  

ps - I had to post about this, so that I wouldn't forget it in the haze of old age.  The irony here is that I DO have a terrible memory, but it has absolutely nothing to do with age - I've been that way for decades!

I need new shorts!

Someone call the 80's fashion police! This is just embarrassing.

The good news is that I wear solid black tights over the shorts. The safety green I can live with, because it screams "LOOK AT ME!", which is a very good thing to scream if you're a cyclist battling traffic.

But I do need new shorts. Summer will be here soon, and I do not have the self confidence to pull off this look. Besides, motorists might end up laughing so hard they lose control and hit me anyway!

Weight Loss Secret?

So I've been managing to lose a little more weight lately - which is nice, since I've plateaued for the last, oh, YEAR or so...


How, you ask? Well, an old Japanese saying—Hara hachi bunme—instructs people to stop eating when you are 80% full.

So basically, once I got used to* being 20% hungry ALL THE TIME, I started losing weight.  I may look better, but my family might soon request that I add extra portions...  'cause if momma ain't happy, ain't no body happy!  

My sincere hope is that my new smaller portions will become the norm, and soon I won't notice the mild hunger.  What is nice is that, with my new, healthier lifestyle, a mild drop in blood sugar doesn't give me severe headaches like it used to when I was younger.  Then again, it might just be that I eat more often.  Just less.  And slightly better.  But still with chocolate.

*for the record, I am not yet used to it, and may never be...

"Best Family Night Ever!"

So, I scored major points with my youngest tonight by buying this movie, which we watched for Family Home Evening.

Me: "So, do you like the movie so far?"

Madi: "Yes!!  I can't take my eyes off him!"

Ah, the celebrity crush.

Madi is (and has been for a while) completely obsessed with Elvis, but until recently, I had managed to keep her from the knowledge that he made movies as well as sang.  Well, that cat's out of the bag.

Madi's not the only one with a celebrity crush.  Last Saturday, I overheard Sarah and her friend Julie talking while watching Justin Bieber's DVD "Never Say Never".  Sarah bowled me over by exclaiming "He's so CUTE!  I really like him!"

Young girls, drooling over boys.  So completely normal.  I love it.  :)

Recipe: Cherry Almond Oatmeal Cookies

Ever ended up on a website, and can't really remember the trail of links that got you there?  Well, that happened to me today.  I know I didn't start out looking for cookie recipes, but ended up here.  The chocolate chip oatmeal cookies looked so good that it was easy to decide to ignore my to-do list and head to the kitchen instead.

But, Sarah's been on an oatmeal kick lately, and we were almost out of oatmeal.  The only other oatmeal I found was this:

I love this stuff - it's super yummy - but I always forget that it's in the cupboard.  Looking at the box got me wondering... can you make cookies with flavored instant oatmeal?

A quick trip to Google reveals that you can!  The original recipe is from a website that I have never heard of or visited before today, and it's not even a recipe website.  Ah, the magic of the internet.

Here is my version of the recipe.  Oh, so yummy!  Since I'm on a chocolate & cherry kick lately, I threw in some chocolate chips.  I'm betting that you could add almonds, too, and they would be divine.

Cherry Almond Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 c. Butter, Softened (1 Stick)
1/4 c. Granulated Sugar
1/2 c. Light Brown Sugar
1 Egg
1 T. Milk
1/4 t. Baking Powder
1/2 t. Baking Soda
1 c. Flour
6 Packets Of Cherry Almond Instant Oatmeal

1/2 c. chocolate chips (white chocolate would be good, too)

1/3 c. dried cherries, chopped fine

Directions:

The day before: cream the butter and sugars. Combine the egg and milk, and add to the creamed mixture.  

In a small bowl mix baking powder, baking soda, and flour.  Add slowly to the butter mixture a little at a time and beat to incorporate. Add in the packets of oatmeal, chopped cherries, and chocolate chips and mix to combine.

For best results, refrigerate the dough for at least 4 hours; preferably overnight.  If you can't wait, the cookies will still be delicious, but much flatter.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.   Drop by heaping tablespoons onto a non-stick cookie sheet, about 2 inches apart.  Space them farther apart if the dough is unchilled to avoid a unicookie.

Bake for 10 minutes or until light golden brown. Allow to cool on the cookie sheet for 5 minutes then transfer to a cooling rack to finish cooling.

Yields about 2 dozen cookies.

Bones

Last night, during a quiet scene in the movie Gary and I were watching, I heard Sarah in the next room, laughing vigorously.  The laughing continued for quite a while, so I decided to investigate.  I opened the door to Sarah's room, and found her sitting on her bed, covers pushed off, and her bedside lamp on.

Me: "Hey, buddy, what's up?"
Sarah (huge smile, still laughing):  "I love my bones!"
Me: "What?  You love your bones?"
Sarah: "Yes!  They are so CUTE!"
Me (grinning): "Well, yes, I guess they are.  Come on, time to go back to sleep."
Sarah: "They are great!  They hold me up!  I love my bones!"

It might help to note that bones have been a big thing in our house this week; Sarah's science class is studying anatomy.  She finds the location of the coccyx quite hysterical.  ("There's a bone - and it's in your butt!!")

One of the things about living with Sarah is getting to experience the joy of simple things.  Most days she'll drive you crazy, but then she says something that really makes you think.  I mean, when was the last time you thought to be thankful for your bones?

(Re)joined a Gym Today

The local community center had a $30/30 days promo running, and they have a pool and a rowing machine, so I decided that I better cram in a few kayak-related workouts before Pedal and Paddle - which is in about a month.

Spent 20 minutes on the rower, and I know I'm going to feel it later.  whoa.

Cookie Time

Today was a bit of a crazy day (which is why I'm posting at 11:51pm to make my daily deadline...)

As soon as Sarah got home, we headed over and picked up Madi from school, and made a beeline to the hairstylists to clean up Sarah's self-made hairdo.  I love my stylist - she even threw in a free French braid for Madilyn, since we had some extra time!

After running a number of errands, I decided a treat was in order, so we ended up at Grandma's Bakery.  Both girls chose decorated cookies - Sarah had a Big Bird cookie, and Madi picked one with a lizard on it. They didn't get a chance to eat them right away, since they decided that they would much rather eat the donut holes that I had ordered for myself.  I guess I should credit them for saving me from myself - at least partially.  I did manage a few.  :)

It was a beautiful, sunny day, and great to be out and about.  We ended up running errands all the way until it was time to head for church for youth activities.  Madi never even made it to our house until 9 pm.  

I'm glad that days like this only happen once in a while.  It's exhausting!

Old Blue in the Shop

I have always loved my road bike.  It's a Trek 1420, and I bought it in 1992, as a gift to myself after my first promotion at 3M.  It wasn't top-of-the-line, but it was a high quality touring bike.  Back then, I used to ride it 16 miles to work several times a week, alongside the celery fields in Camarillo, California.  I remember Saturday mountain rides, struggling to keep up with the guys as we climbed the mountains around Ojai, and oceanside rides, looking out on the rocky cliffs and the waves, and being just in awe that this was my life.

But life happens, things change, and after California, bike riding in New Ulm, Minnesota didn't have the same appeal.  Then Sarah was born, and my bike was left to gather dust.  I'm ashamed to say that it gathered dust for about 11 years before I realized how much I missed cycling.  It took another year for me to lose enough weight to get back in the saddle comfortably.

I still remember the first time I got Blue saddled up and headed out for a ride again - as I rode down the street, my whole body relaxed and I thought "Aaahh.  THIS is where I'm supposed to be."  But, Blue was a bit worse for the wear.  All that time hanging around, and she paid a price.  If I had thought about it, I would have shifted gears at least once a year, changing the tension on the cables so they didn't develop a memory.  But I didn't.

Before my first ride, I got her tuned up and ready to go.  But she just wasn't the same.  We'd fight - I'd shift gears, and she'd shift back, usually when I was cranking hard - jamming my knee and making me swear under my breath.  She had a gear she liked, and wanted to stay with it.  I told the bike shops about our arguments, but after two separate tune-ups at two different bike shops, I was starting to think that we were two cranky old ladies who just had to learn to put up with each other.

The situation was tolerable, but things got a little harder to take once Gary got his flashy new (non-grumpy) road bike.  HIS bike shifted without a hitch, willingly, with a simple twitch of the fingers on the brakes.  Beautiful integrated shifters - no hands off the handlebars, reaching down to find the levers, monkeying until it "felt" right, listening for the gear change - completely automated, smooth as silk, and I was jealous.

Because Gary is the kind of guy that he is, and because I am not above using guilt to shift outcomes in my favor, we talked about upgrading my bike with integrated shifters.  He discussed it with the bike store when he was shopping for his bike, and was told it could be done, for about $200.  For those of you who don't ride, $200 on a bike might seem expensive, but, in the cycling world, where "real" bikes start at $1500, it's a bargain.

Thinking that I would eventually get the upgrade made riding more tolerable.  When Blue was cranky, I would think "just you wait - I'm going to get those shifters and all these troubles will be behind us!"

And then the crash happened.  When I took Blue to the local bike shop to be repaired, I asked the mechanic to quote me a price for upgrading to integrated shifters.  He wasn't sure, so called out the lead mechanic - the one who would be doing the work - from the back.  The man who emerged had an arrogance born of experience - it was obvious he knew what he was talking about - and precious few social skills.  After subtly belittling the first mechanic and running through all the components that would need to be upgraded in order to make it work, the total was close to $550.

He looked at me, looked disdainfully down on Blue, and said "For that amount of money, I'd rather sell you a nice 10 speed."  It might not be obvious, but this was a serious slapdown.  No one who is even a little serious about cycling rides a 10 speed.  NO ONE in the cycling community calls it a "10 speed" - it's a road bike.  His comment was an indictment of both Blue and me.

Seething, I silently repeated "He's a jerk.  He's just a jerk." (I do admit that, in my head, I did use a stronger term than "jerk").  I agreed that it probably wasn't cost effective to upgrade, but could they please look into the shifting issue.  The head mechanic left, since that apparently was beneath him, and I continued talking with the original mechanic, who suspected that the problem was actually a bent derailleur hanger (part of the bike frame).

Long story short, I am now in love with the (nice) mechanic.  He trued my front wheel, fixed my bent frame, and Blue is back to her prime.  Well, not her prime - we both have a few battle scars - but she is running like a champ again!  She shifts so smoothly that I barely mind that I have to reach down to shift.

Now I might actually ride with Gary once in a while.  Especially if we can figure out a way to do it along the California coast.

There is a downside to improvement...

At my girls' doctor appointment last Friday, I spoke with the doctor about the behavior changes that I've seen in Madilyn since we found the current dose of her ADD meds.  Overall, she is SO much better... but now she's more like a typical kid.  Before - overly cautious, worried, not really into playing.  Now - throwing couch cushions across the room when looking for the remote (and knocking over a water bottle, making a mess... ) -  basic lack-of-judgment things you would expect from any kid.

He told me that, when ADD is controlled, any developmental delays caused by the brain imbalance tend to correct themselves, and kids act age appropriately.  In Madi, this means increased independence and thinking for herself... and some foolish choices.

Did I mention that we started Sarah on ADD meds, too?  Since she's been having real attention issues at school -it was worth a shot.  It's too soon to tell, but this is the sight that I came upon in the bathroom on Monday morning (day 3 of meds):

Yes, Sarah cut her own hair.  Is there a child who doesn't do this at some point?  Granted, for most kids it occurs around age 2 or 3, not 14... and for the record, I do NOT keep scissors in their bathroom - she had to go searching for them.

When asked why she did this, she replied (most reasonably) that it was hanging in her eyes and bothering her.  I asked her why she took it off at the roots, but got a blank stare on that one.

So, it does seem that the meds are bringing out the "true child" in each of them.  Heaven help me, I hope I'm ready.

Poor Old Blue and the Crash

Bike training in the spring is always a touch-and-go thing if you're wimpy like me and don't like to ride in the rain.  Freezing drizzle might seem harmless in May - it certainly doesn't ice the roads - but coupled with wind, it can feel like tiny knives cutting your face as you ride.  Needless to say, I avoid it whenever possible.

The weather has not been cycling-friendly lately, making me low on training miles, with my 40 mile ride quickly approaching.  So, I was delighted to see that we were going to have a sunny, 50 degree day on Tuesday - the only rain-free day of the week.  Checking my calendar deflated my spirits a bit - I had a lunch date with a visiting out-of-town friend.  Although very excited to see her, realizing the lunch was smack in the middle of my proposed three-hour riding block dampened my enthusiasm.  Thinking outside the box, I decided that I'd ride twice that day - 17 miles in the morning, home, shower, throw Old Blue (my bike) in the back of the car, lunch, another 17 miles, then home in time to meet Sarah's bus.

Great plan, but a slight problem in execution.

About 8 miles into my ride, I was zipping along at a peppy 17 mph when I crossed an intersection containing a splitter island.  Everyone's seen a splitter island, but might not know what they're called, so I found the photo below online to illustrate.  It's not the actual intersection I crossed.

Let me digress here, and share some curb terminology.  There are two main types of curbs - insurmountable and surmountable.  Insurmountable are sharp, almost 90 degree curbs designed to keep cars in the roadway and off the sidewalk.  Surmountable are sloped and angled such that they can be traversed without damage to the vehicle.  Back to my story.

My ride to this point was on a bike trail filled with surmountable curbs, nicely sloped at each intersection, allowing the rider to maintain speed.  It's such a rookie mistake, but I didn't look closely enough at the ground as I crossed, and couldn't tell until about 2 feet away that I was rapidly approaching an insurmountable curb at high speed.

I was mad.  I knew what was going to happen, there wasn't enough time to fix it, and I was MAD.  In that split second, I pictured my front wheel hitting that curb, stopping abruptly, and me, still attached to my bike (thank you, clip-in pedals) in an amazing rear-over-front, skidding, sliding mess.  In the middle of the intersection.  With traffic.  So I yelled.  Not a girly, I'm-so-scared-because-it's-really-going-to-hurt scream, but an angry, how-dare-this-happen-to-me "NO!" at the top of my lungs.

And a miracle occurred.

I stayed upright.

I am convinced that in that second after impact, when my front tire exploded and my rim bent, God (or, more likely, one of His angels) grabbed me from behind and kept me upright, until I regained my balance and rode my damaged bike across the rest of the street.  I'm at a loss for any other explanation.

I found out later that the impact was so strong that it popped one of my water bottles straight up and out of its cage, and popped out one of the handlebar end caps.  I was too shaken up to notice in the moment, otherwise I would have gone back and gotten them from the middle of the road.  I found their crushed remains later in the day when I revisited the scene.

So, on the other side of the intersection - undamaged me, and a limpy Old Blue.  Now what?  Well, it's about an hour and a half before my lunch date.  I'm about a quarter mile from the restaurant, so I could easily walk there and meet my friend.  I'm certain she'd give me a ride home afterwards.

And then the wind shifts, and I catch a whiff of me.  Instantly, I realize that that plan's not going to work.  I haven't showered in two days, I'm grimy and sweating, and I'm wearing skin tight black cycling pants and a fluorescent yellow jacket.  Not really the way I want to reconnect with a friend I haven't seen in two years.

I assess the situation, and it's this:  I'm about 6 miles from home.  My husband is out of town.  My friends have recently (reluctantly) rejoined the workforce.  I have a cell phone and credit card, but no tire patch kit.  I don't have contact info for my out-of-town friend. Things are not looking good.  I call my good friend Ann, who works from home, but she's on her way out the door to a meeting. It tears her up inside to not be able to help, but I won't let her even consider it. I rack my brain for other people I know who are at home at 10:20 am on a Tuesday morning... it's a short list.

All the while, I'm walking toward home, dragging Old Blue along with me.  On a regular day, I would have just walked the 6 miles in my inflexible bike shoes and called it a workout AND a learning experience.  But this wasn't a regular day - I really wanted to see my out-of-town friend!

A brief prayer reminded me of my wonderful home teachers, a couple in their 70's who had just sold their home and were just in the midst of both packing up their house and watching their grandson.  I called, and Becky dropped everything and came to my rescue.  I loved her before, but this sealed the deal.

I got home in time to shower, dress, and fly out the door... and I beat my friend to the restaurant by about two minutes.  Someone was really looking out for me that day.  :)

New bike!

It's late, and I might have missed my deadline for posting, but I had to try:

Here is Gary on his NEW BIKE!  After someone got him riding, oh, say... 17 years ago, he's finally decided to cross over to the fast lane, and he bought a road bike.  I promptly declared that although I was so happy for him, I would never ride with him again.  Because if he's able to keep up with my road bike when he's on that clunky mountain bike, well, I don't really stand a chance now.

Dogpile

Mom: "Madi!  Don't jump on your sister's stomach!"

Watching Sarah laying on the floor of my room,  I foolishly made a quip about "dogpiling on Sarah"... which prompted Madi to run to Sarah's side, then drop to her knees... on Sarah's stomach.  Leading me to the quote above.

After a brief training session on the humane application of "dogpile", Madi left for... something electronic, probably.  Sarah, apparently uninjured, continued laying on my floor, quizzing me about why stomach jumping wasn't a good idea.

Sarah: "What might happen?"
Mom: "One of your organs might get bruised."
Sarah: "What would happen?"
Mom: "It would hurt."
Sarah: "Would I have to go to the hospital?"
Mom: "Maybe - if it was bad."
Sarah: "And then you would get a brand-new Sarah?"
Mom:  "Never!  There's only one Sarah - I couldn't get a new one!"

Looking at Sarah's silly smirk at this point, I realized yet again that there is a lot more going on in there than she lets on.  After all, who doesn't want to be reassured that they're totally irreplaceable once in a while?