Birthdays

Today marks my husband's birthday.  The man of my dreams.  My King of Hearts. Mr. Romance.  He gave me a birthday for the books. On second thought, he's given me many birthday gifts for the books.

In 1982 I outdid him forever. I delivered our firstborn, our daughter, on this day, November 21. If I'd had my druthers I'd've delivered her Nov. 11, as my first OB called it.  Chris knew our baby would be born on his birthday, and I scoffed at his prediction.  As the day grew nearer I scoffed more. I was ready to have the pregnancy done by the 1st due date, but no, that wasn't the case. Chris was working a turn-around (refinery lingo for scheduled maintenance) in Nov. and right after he left for work at oh-dark-thirty on the 20th, I went into labor; after a few hours of feeling weird I called him and home he came.

Long story short, the home birth didn't work & we went to Spohn Hospital in Corpus Christi (where the late Farrah Fawcett and my husband were born) and voila!  There she was!

So Chris has given up many birthdays so that we could celebrate hers This year, as in previous years, he's working.  My plans for his special day were thwarted.  I'd hoped he could fly his hang glider, or ride his age, or get a massage and enjoy a fabulous meal.

Instead, he worked late, we bought our daughter's gift, I gave him his, and we ordered Amici's East Coast Pizza delivered.  Drank some local Cabernet Sauvignon, watched a movie we DVRd and called it good. Part of me is very unhappy that I couldn't spoil him rotten.  And since he's OK with this, I guess I get to be OK with it, too.

Just wait 'til he's retired...I'll spoil him every day.

A Dark and Stormy Night

The California coast averages fewer than 10 thunderstorms per year.  When we're privileged to have one it's a real novelty.  If I can I watch the sky for the light show, and cringe in advance of thunder pealing overhead.  Our first two Schipperkes, Scout and Gretchen, would run around the house and bark at the ceiling when we had thunderstorms.  Beau and Oliver don't seem to care.

Tonight's storm featured hail and high winds. We came out of Nugget (and a surprise wine tasting) and I saw lightning reflected in the wet parking lot, followed by thunder. The storm was just west of us, moving east in a hurry.  Two hours later the rain & wind persist, and faint rumbles emanate from the east.  The mountains are going to have some wild weather tonight.

Meave & Chris are watching a horror move, "From Hell," starring Johnny Depp.  I'd watch it because he's in it but I abhor horror movies.  "Motel" and "The Exorcist" almost scarred me for life. I'm upstairs with laundry washing, 7-bean soup simmering, 3-layer cornbread baking, with a glass of wine and "This American Life" on the radio and the staccato rhythm of rain on the patio cover in the background.  I have a few candles burning throughout the house.  My favorite is a Colonial Candle, Peppermint scent, that I haven't been able to find for 3 years.

Why do I have candles from 3 years ago?  Because I've learned to stock up, thanks to Nike.

In the 90's, when Nike offered discounts to group exercise instructors, I'd buy shoes from them in which to teach my Jazzercise classes.  I had 3 pair that I rotated; I taught 10 classes or more a week, and according to the wisdom of the day, one was to wear a pair and air out the other two.  I'd buy a pair every 3 months, with the oldest being 9 mos. old, and if they broke down by then I'd wear them to my personal training sessions -- in other words, they were fine for non-impact activities.  I could train clients in them, do my strength training routine in them, but not use them for teaching.  For about 10 years I was the Lompoc version of the Imelda Marcos of workout shoes.

So I'd get a pair from Nike and really, really like them.  Three months later I'd attempt to buy a second pair. Nike would tell me those shoes were no longer in production.  WTH?   Only 3 months?

Seems they'd make shoes, offer them to instructors, collect feedback, and either make more for the masses or discontinue the line.  So after 4 years I got wise -- when I found a pair that I liked a lot, I'd order another pair within a month.  Usually I'd get the 2nd pair.  Sometimes the style was already passe'.  That was frustrating.

And that's why I have candles I bought 3 years ago.  I wish I'd bought more.  I love the scent.  It's minty, fresh, light and not heavily-perfumed.  Some of those scents hurt my nose, they're so heavily-scented. It's as though they're made for people who are losing their sense of smell.

So my search continues.  And now dinner's ready.  I love a rainy night.

Where's my Zen?

Enjoying some fine patio time:  no wind, mild (t-shirt & shorts) temperature,  a glass of Berryessa Gap (local) Tempranillo in hand. I am restless; want to ride/run/work myself into endorphin heaven and must settle for some relaxation. It's not working.  I want to do that which I cannot.

So in 10 days I'm to give a speech about service at my Installation of officers luncheon.  I volunteered, was asked by my friend and President-elect, accepted, and am now...speechless.

Normally glib, gifted somewhat at extemporaneous speechifying, I find myself at a loss.  I have a nebulous idea of the impact I want to deliver, the point I want to make, and cannot come up with the language to put it all together.  I'm puzzled and frustrated.  I suspect that my procrastination is due to the pressure I've put on myself for a "perfect" speech.

I know I need to put that nonsense aside and just let the language come from my heart.  I'm willing to bet that the day of the installation I come up with just what I need for it to work.

Meanwhile, I sit here, trying to relax, and resisting all the while.

Bottomless Pit

This year I put my racing career on hold as my real estate business boomed. I'm still riding but not the same as the past 3 years. I miss it, but need to make a living.  And because I'm not expecting a lot from my rides, some of them have delivered hugely rewarding results.

I was nominated for the position of President-Elect of my local Association of Realtors (R). I'm in the 1st year of my 2nd 2-year term as a Director, so I have 16 months to serve before I go away. 

I wasn't going to run for President-Elect this year but accepted the nomination, worked a grass-roots campaign, and lost by a handful of votes.

I can accept losing at bicycle races, but this stung. I wasn't prepared to lose.

So now the next 3 years are WFO. I'm not committed to running next year. So now I wonder what's next?

I could put together a training program for next year's Nationals and hope to qualify for the '13 Senior Games.

Or I could ride more and rack up the smiles per mile.

Or I could find some other fat, juicy goal that entices me, and go for it.

For now I'm at loose ends. As a goal-oriented person this feels very odd, unsettling, uncomfortable.

I will definitely ride my bike, sell some houses, and see what happens. I hope to ride enough long miles that my mind becomes empty and new ideas pop in.  That's the benefit of endorphins and endurance rides.


Meanwhile, I think I'll try to get used to that bottomless pit that is "what's next?"

Sunday Night Wrap-Up

Since my last post I've had 2 more weeks of 150-175 miles of cycling.  I was beginning to feel normal again, in that all the usual aches, pains, suffering and sweat were present more frequently.  Just the way I like it.

This week the real estate-related challenges upped their game, so I upped mine as well, but at the expense of my rides.  I rode only 3 days, totaling 115 miles, but I saved an escrow and it should close by month's end (should being the operative word).

A couple Sundays ago we rode our singles with some fast folks and I hung on for 19+ miles at 24 mph before I finally cracked.  Chris circled back to pick me up, as the rest of the group hammered on when he asked if anyone was going to regroup.  That dealt a blow to my confidence, as I can usually hang with those riders.  Reaching into my bag of excuses, I find that "really busy selling houses, not enough time to train" works well here.

So today I woke up with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach.  Chris made coffee and breakfast and as we were running late, we drove our bikes 6 mi. to the meeting place. (Oh, the shame!)  There were 5 of us total and while the pace was brisk, it wasn't stupidly fast, so I was able to pull as well as keep up with the paceline.  Towards the end, on the last hill, I found my climbing legs and went up like a mountain goat.  Finally!  I've been waiting for that all season!  32 miles, Steiger/Cantelow/Steiger included, avg. 19.3 mph.  I was so excited I worked 3 hrs. weeding, etc. in the back yard before my nap.

Tomorrow I'm submitting a short-sale package to a bank, with appendages crossed that it's accepted.  It'll be a day off the bike.  Colin's coming to town Tuesday so we'll have a family ride Tuesday evening.  I'm giving my 1st of 2 speeches in my quest to become elected as President-elect of my local Association of Realtors (R).  I'm looking forward to that smackdown, oh yes.

Return to Normal

Ha...and that's entirely dependent on your definition of normal.

For me, that means working hard and playing harder.  So my weekly mileage is up to 174.6.  Finally!  And the legs are holding up, so I'm doing something right.

Wrote 5 offers this last week, too, one of which was countered and accepted.  One was rejected outright.  The others are in limbo until Tuesday.

Yesterday Chris and some hang gliding friends painted the house of a fellow pilot who was devastatingly injured in a crash last year.  He's out of rehab but his house needed work.  One of his friends organized 2 work crews, one to do the prep work on Friday, the other to knock out the painting.  Mission accomplished.

I'm impressed with the HG community, even smaller and tigthter than  the cycling community.  That's some good karma they put out this weekend.

We had a few of them over to dinner last night; an impromptu potluck that included new people (to me), kids and a dog.  The visiting dog was overwhelmed by the excitement, but as she leads a quiet life, I understood the stress.  Our dogs and the kids had great fun together.  And the adults enjoyed the occasion as well.  The day was a win all the way around.

Today, for the first time in years, my phone didn't ring.  No clients called to see property or write an offer or want to list.  We had a recovery (for me) tandem ride and pulled some new cyclists into the headwind and shared successes via cycling.  Rewarding.

We were flying home with the tailwind, really ramping up the speed, hardly sweating despite the temps, when we had a flat.  And so it goes.

Tour de France, patio time, low-key hanging out completed the day.  What a great weekend!

Goulash

This time last week we were mourning the death of one of our chinchillas. She was 15-1/2 yrs. old and except for her ailing health the last couple months, she lived a happy life with her sister.  We expected this, as she showed signs of slowing down, eating less, sleeping more, losing weight.  The saddest part?  We don't know if it was Pooh Bear, or Tikka.  They were twins.  Their personalities were their distinguishing features.

So we dug a little grave out in the front garden, and Chris made a little marker for her.

The remaining chin, whom we've dubbed "Tikka-pooh," seems fat, happy, and more people-oriented than before.  Our friends ask if she's lonely.  I don't know, but I imagine so. But she's a chinchilla, and doesn't emote like, say, a dog, so it's hard to tell.

Friday morning I had a great ride.  Saturday and Sunday the temperature finally passed 100*, finally.  We rode alone Saturday, and joined friends on Sunday for a quick 50-miler.

Sunday afternoon I showed a house, counseled buyers about their options, then attended a fund-raiser dubbed Tasting for Ta-ta's. It supports a local charity that provides funds for mammograms for those who can't afford them, and funds to help out for those undergoing treatment for breast cancer. The wines were, for the most part, worthy, the Kinder's BBQ up to usual standards, and the reconnecting with friends/colleagues/clients very satisfying.

Monday was my local Assoc. of Realtors (R) annual charity golf tournament.  I don't play golf but I serve on the committee with gusto:  I get to solicit prizes, visit clients/friends/colleagues, run an event for a worthy cause, help golfers have a good time.  And those who participate whom I know expect me to hit them up for some cycling event support.

While I'd rather watch grass grow than play or watch golf, I appreciate that golfers love their game as much as I love riding my bike. And golf courses are beautifully landscaped acres, and I do loves me some beautiful landscaping.

After 3 hours of registering players my partner and I took off for the 17th hole, as we were witnesses for the hole-in-one.  The prize?  A 2010 Honda Fit.  So it took 5+ hrs. in 104* or so heat (we had shade and company, food and every manner of beverages) for 28 foursomes to play through.  Around 4 p.m. we saw some deer boldly trot onto the course, oblivious to the balls flying and carts careening.  By the time we headed to the clubhouse for dinner there were easily over a dozen deer grazing placidly on the fairways.  I can see how the local creatures adapt to a golf course, and it gives me one more reason to appreciate a well-placed course.

Fast-forward to today:  Chris was leaving on a business trip so we took the tandem out early.  Temps were 20* cooler than Monday and Tuesday, humidity was up, so smells were lingering close to the road.  My favorite time to ride is early morning, beating the heat, feeling spots of cool air in the low-water crossings, the smells, the animals.

We were close to the end of the ride, barreling down Steiger Hill Rd. towards Cantelow Rd. at 40+ mph when a spotted fawn leaped in front of us. Yikes!!  Chris kept the bike upright and managed to spare the fawn by about 8".  It ran to the left, and slightly ahead of our front wheel. We could hear the tiny clicks of its hooves on the pavement, its tail high in the air, bounding away for its life.  We slowed a bit as we approached a right turn onto Cantelow; it crossed in front of us and got off the road.  I glanced over my shoulder as we pedaled away and saw it crash into a square-wire fence (its head was too big to fit).  Once we un-puckered we felt sad that it was alone.  I hope its mother found it.

We're pretty competitive but we've never been challenged by a deer.  This time I was happy to let it "win."  Our win was staying upright and coming home excited and unscathed.