I'm a day late in getting this to the internet, but our celebration won't be until we run out of the house on Sunday yelling "sucker!" over our shoulders at Mom while she babysits Porter.
Ok, just kidding about the yelling "sucker" part. But anyway, you'll be happy to know that only 3 years too late, I've found the perfect first dance for us.
And as surely as Black Friday follows Thanksgiving, does Dirty Dozen Saturday follow Black Friday.
The Dirty Dozen is a 24 year Pittsburgh tradition. Every year a bunch of sickos ride the 13 toughest hills in Pittsburgh. Yes, they cannot count. Or they're all bakers. Anyway, babykins and I headed out to watch Chris ride Sycamore and Canton st.
First up: Sycamore. I remembered to bring my camera along to film it. Just before the riders got there, I tried to frame the shot only to see the battery light start flashing. Then as the riders approached, I shifted Porter in my arms, and he started crying. Which then distracted me in my filming so that I got an awful lot of the fine paving job on the side of the hill. After two attempts at filming the camera gave up the ghost all together.
Sigh.
Then I hung out with Chris and a few other friends that I haven't really had a chance to talk to this summer. Then it was off to Canton St, one of the contenders for the steepest street in the world. It's supposedly steeper than anything in San Francisco at 37.5%. It's a crazy street, and better than 1/2 the riders fell over on their sides when they ran out of energy part way up. Alas one such rider went straight into Chris on his way up, and knocked him over.
Steevo killed it and won the whole race handily. Chris got somewhere in the 5th or 6th place. So it was a good day, and a good time was had by all.
So if you're driving through Pittsburgh on the Saturday after Thanksgiving next year, and you see 100+ cyclists, you'll know that they're headed off to do something silly. Fun....but silly.
Ok, ya wanna know why I like cycling? Let me show you Exhibit A:
This is Alberto Contador, winner of the Tour de France, wearer of both the yellow jersey and the white jersey for best young rider (under 26) I searched but could not find a photo that appropriately showed off the 7 feet of eyelashes the man has
And this is Tom Boonen, international heart throb. He ended up with the green jersey - what the sprinters like to wear. He looks good in green. Also not so bad in red, white, yellow, black or any other color. Also seems like a nice guy who would treat his mama well.
So when you wonder why despite the crazy doping going on, I still am mesmerized by the Tour, feel free to surf google images for those two names.
Since this weekend was all about the lethargy, I did something I haven't done since I left Houston - I scrapbooked. I'm just not that detailed, not that creative, and not that patient. But it occurs to me that I may have an in for Christmas presents for the new grandparents. And it's a way of forcing myself to sort through cycling pix, so I'm working on a cycling scrapbook. Now if you were to see my friend Tammie's books....those are works of art. Mine....not so much. Oh well.
Last night Chris came home from his week of wrenching duties. WOOHOOO! Fred gave him the appropriate conquering hero status welcome after a whole week of not seeing Chris. I greeted him with a hug and a kiss. Ginger....well she had a bone! and was outside! and things were going on! Ok, so Ginger's initial reaction was a little low key. Until a couple of hours later when apparently the brain cell kicked in. We were in the living room, and you could see a puff of smoke and her little brain went "Wait....something is different about this room. Dad! Dad's home!", and the puppy insanity commenced. Not the brightest light in the harbor, our little girl. But bossy. Very, very bossy.
Today was migraine number 8 or 9 since I've been pregnant. This morning's wasn't bad at all, but it left me like a limp dish rag all day. And all I can think is...how do single moms do it? I've had a relatively easy pregnancy, but there have definitely been non functional days/weeks/months when I have no energy. My husband has been a CHAMP through the whole thing. And tonight he comes home with Mexican food.
Woohoo! This Sunday is not only Easter, but also the Tour de Flanders. This starts one of our favorite weeks of cycling. Wed is Ghent Wevelgem, and the following Sunday is Paris Roubaix. Hard to believe that it was just a year ago that we were in Europe with PeeWee, Hollywood and the gang, careening off through the Belgium countryside with unknown Frenchmen and all of our luggage, sleeping in an awesome French farmhouse, and eating croissants every morning for breakfast. Oh, and did I forget Brugge? I can never forget Brugge, what an amazing city. Sigh, sniff, wipes away tear. We're toying with the next closest thing...eating at Point Brugge, where we had horrible service, but they serve authentic frites.
I can't wait to go back to Europe one day! We really have to do a lot of saving so we can get the baby hooked early.
While Chris was in Tucson, one of the guys there was aghast that he had never seen Purple Rain. And as a Prince fan who had also never seen the movie, I was all in favor of that. So tonight Chris spent the longest 111 minutes of his life. I loved the music and didn't have high hopes for a "plot" anyway, so I was perfectly content. But from the very first, backlit frame Chris hated the movie. While I was shaking my money maker, he was rolling his eyes and wishing that Velonews came with headphones.
I told him that he got to pick the next movie. I'm still not sure I'm forgiven though.
A long time ago, in a country far, far away, my husband was born on this day. When I think of the strange series of events that had to occur for a guy born in Ecuador and a girl born in St Louis to meet and marry in PA, it takes my breath away.
Sweetie, we were destiny.
I hope you have a wonderful day, and I'm looking forward to celebrating many more birthdays together.
Chris got to Petco this weekend and made a tag for Ginger's collar with contact info. Sort of critical with her as she doesn't really care about that whole "coming when she's called thing".
"What did you put on the tag?" I asked him? "Finders Keepers" he replied.
70 degrees and sunny? That sucks, you'd much rather have 30 and overcast right?
The only responsibility you had was working on bikes and riding your bike? Pshaw, back to work with you!
There's nothing like a cold puppy nose and the tap-tap-tap of a dog going from one side of the bed to the other to let you know she needs to potty, right?
And forget those healthy other cyclists, your pregnant wife who thinks she might have a touch of the flu...that's ok too!
At least Ginger brought you a "welcome home!" gift - a dead field mouse. It's no rat, but the best she could scrape up on short notice. I think the neighborhood cats should be concerned this summer that the rodent population of the green space between houses is going to drop precipitously.
So last year Chris and I were at Paris-Roubaix. We caught the end of Sector 18, then sprinted about a mile which got us to the start of Sector 16 in time to see the peloton come through. At the same time we were doing that, some other members of our party had pulled the van we came in up the cobbles until it was a few hundred feet from the start of Sector 16. Chris got to the start of 16 a few minutes before I did, and made his way further down the cobbles by the time the riders came in. So after I watched a bunch of riders come through, I walked down the cobbles until I saw the van, at which point the guys were frantically digging through my backpack. "Where's the toilet paper?! Where's the toilet paper?!"
er..ok... I gave them the roll and they disappeared around a little hillock.
So it turns out that a Canadian rider in Paris-Roubaix was...er...having a little intestinal problem. Of the messy stinky variety that you would hate to have in the middle of a 6 hour race. So he had pulled over, and first tried to use his arm warmers to clean up when he was done. Then the toilet paper, before he got back on the bike for another 3 hours on the road (poor guy!!!).
But things are looking up, Ryder Hesjedal is now sitting in 10th in the Tour of California.
Oh and Chris thought about liberating those arm warmers he left behind until he got a good luck at them. And considering we were in the car for about 6 more hours, I'm sure the smell would have been overwhelming, I'm glad he didn't go for those.
My sweetie pie is in Tucson getting warm, hanging with the guys, drinking coffee, and riding bikes. I'm glad he's getting the opportunity to have this break before we get chest deep in baby stuff and nesting, and other girly things that fill most men with horror.
Having said that, I am first of all bitterly jealous that he's warm and doesn't have to drive the car up our ice covered driveway. And secondly, missing him a lot. Even though it's not like we spend all day together, we do tend to hang in the evenings and I miss it.
As we speak, my husband is doing the marathon trek through the snow to Philly for tomorrow's Mac Prom. (He has a camera, be warned). Thanks to snowy weather and leaving during Rush Hour (DOH!), he'll take about 6 hours to do a 4.5 hour trip.
On the downside, I'm missing out on seeing the Mac crew. We had a blast last year. I learned how to make a fist and throw a proper punch. And careful now, boys, the guy who taught me how throw a proper punch is an ex-bouncer. The skinniest bouncer you could ever imagine, but I know he knows what he's doing.
But anyway, that means that I get to be snuggled up on the couch with a bowl of chili and a cup of hot tea. And the realization that I don't like the movie "The Player". Oh well, easy come, easy go. I had the dogs out in the snow earlier, so they're busy snoring up a storm, which gives me an unusual evening of quiet.
And in my surfing, I found out...He's Back! Woohoo!
Official 2 year anniversary of our wedding. And Tammie's birthday. All part of my plan to nevere forget either. Either that or the only day in December that I could get both St Cecilia's Church and our reception hall.
Anyway, being a super traditional kinda girl, the reason St Cecilia's Church was so important to me is because our family seems to keep coming back to it. My Mom grew up in the shadow of St Cecilia's and went to their grade school. She was baptized there, Mom & Dad were married there, I was baptized there, my Grandfather was buried from there.... You get the picture. To me it was another opportunity to help include Chris as part of my family traditions. And that the church is just beautiful was a huge added bonus!
And afterwards we got to hang out with our friends and family at the reception. Actually our favorite part of that week was just the time our friends Laura & Eli, Christine, Tammie, Sean, Angie, Mikey, and Jake. We went to the Chocolate Bar the night before our wedding and it was so much fun that we all still talk about it.
Happy anniversary, sweetheart. Just 48 more years until you get to renegotiate the contract and look for some young 65 year old chickie.
This morning I was walking the dogs through the first noticeable snow of the year. There still won't be accumulation, but there were little traces of snow caught in the cracks and blowing in waves across the street. When I looked up into a street light, big fluffy Christmas snowflakes are falling to the ground. And because it's 25 degrees, I've got the place to myself. Ahhh, this is perfect this time of year. Talk to me in January when all I want is to move to the Sahara. But for now, this is the season.
Yesterday was Chris's first day without the bike shop, and from a totally selfish point of view, I could live with that. Ask me after the paycheck time comes and goes, but Chris spent the day working on coaching, taking the dogs to the park, and doing a bit of cleaning. I got home to the dogs sacked out instead of the frantic scramble to get the puppy out to potty, snuggle with Fred, walk the dogs long enough to burn off the steam from the day. This morning I "short-blocked" the dogs, which means about 15 minutes in the cold instead of 45. And when I got home, Chris was home and relaxed, as opposed to getting home at 8:30, shovelling food down our throats , and giving the dogs their second walk before we go to bed. It's not a permanent way of life, but ya know, it's not a bad way of life.
PS: Ginger is now officially tipping the scales at 33lbs. So she's gained 8lbs in the last 5 weeks. I keep looking at her to see if she's going to be a Great Dane mix after all.
It reminds me of a string of wet sponges; it reminds me of tattered washing on the line; it reminds me of stale bean soup, of college yells, of dogs barking idiotically through endless nights. It is so bad that a sort of grandeur creeps into it. It drags itself out of the dark abysm…of pish, and crawls insanely up to the topmost pinnacle of posh. It is rumble and bumble. It is flap and doodle. It is balder and dash.
-H.L. Mencken
By Ken Levine One of the writers from the TV series M*A*S*H writes about Hollywood, showbiz, etc
Class Factotum She's Baaaacccckkkkk. And as funny as ever!
Cobb I'm fascinated on this man's ponderings on being American. And being black. And being an African-American.
Confessions of a Pioneer Woman She makes me laugh. Any woman who has named her own disease - Low Blood Sugar Cranky Butt Disorder - is ok by me.
Cute Overload OK! I admit it, I love a website which uses terms like "prosh" and "paws-up-itude". I'm pretty sure I will have my engineering degree taken away now.
Fatmarc Mountain Bike, Cyclo-cross...is there anything this man doesn't do?