A Gross Contest

The other day my Twitter friend @WashingtonTina commented that her blog, which featured this video

hadn't received the commentary she'd been expecting.  As a faithful blogger and reader of my friends' and followers' blogs I had to see what the fuss was about.

Watching the video dredged up a childhood memory that left a lifelong impression.  WTina and I tweeted about it and decided to leave it to you, our faithful readers, to decide which of the 3 stepping-in-it scenarios are the grossest.

Here's my entry, sadly without pictures -- I leave it to your fertile imaginations to conjure up pictures and odor.

I was a child of 6 or 7, playing barefoot in front of our Jersey row house at 402 Buttonwood Street.  It was early evening in late June or early July, after school was out for summer.  I was playing with my siblings, running up and down the street, dodging the Japanese barberry and uplifted blocks of sidewalk. The buttonwood trees between the sidewalk and street, huge in diameter and height, peeling bark always an amusement, had enormous roots that pushed up the sidewalks and made little rollers for our scooters.

No scooters were involved this balmy evening, however, as we played hide and seek.  My sister failed to find me (she was too lazy to look behind the biggest tree, just 3 trees up from our front porch).  I came out from behind the tree, all "nee-ner, nee-ner, you couldn't find me" in that childish sing-song voice, feeling full of myself for winning, when *squish*...I stepped in it.  Dog shit.  Fresh, soft, stinking to high heaven.  Ickily soft and rank between my toes.  I squealed like a pig and cried for help.  My mother offered the 1964 version of HTFU* and reminded me to be in before sunset or I'd be grounded.

I sobbed and sobbed, feeling abandoned and helpless to remove the offensive substance without touching it and make it feel worse than it already did.  I cried again piteously for help, to no avail. The gross feel and horrible stench overwhelmed me, and all I could do was cry.  The most awful thing imaginable!

 My neighbor, Grandpa Danitz, who'd escaped the Holocaust and was blunt yet endearingly sweet, hobbled onto his porch (he was our next-door neighbor) and asked in his thick Polish accent what was wrong.  I tried to put on a brave face as I told him of my quandary.  He told me to find a stick and scrape it off.

Ah, such a simple solution!  Grandpa Danitz became my hero in that moment.  I looked, saw dozens of small branches around me, and used 3 or 4 to scrape off as much crap as I could. Then I walked on my heel around Mrs. Woodward's house on the end of the row to the alley, then to the back yard, where I washed off my foot enough to go into the house just before it was completely dark.  My mother, preoccupied with my 3 younger siblings, was glad to see that I'd figured it out.  I scrubbed my foot until my toes looked like flesh-colored raisins.

I didn't go barefoot outdoors for a long time.

So, dear readers, which story grosses you out the most?  Post your thoughts, memories and votes in the comments below.  WashingTina and I are eager to know what you think.

*HTFU explanation here:

Focus Interruptus

The weather has turned for the worse if you're a cyclist -- unrelenting rain, heavy at times, with an urban flood advisory tonight & tomorrow as well as a wind advisory.  So long, pear tree blossoms -- the ground under you will look like snow by Monday.

My goal today was to clean the plantation shutters downstairs, hit the gym, find frames and order glasses and prescription sunglasses, work on my taxes.

Yesterday's mail featured a letter from HealthNet informing me that my information was on one of those stolen hard drives (in January. January!).  They offered my 2 years of free Debix -- never heard of it until I read this letter -- and what a glorious PITA that was to register online. They not only want typed info, they want voice recognition info as well. My challenge will be to remember my password and code if/when they call.

Had I voluntarily signed up for this service I suppose I'd be impressed with the levels of security.  However, since this is being foisted upon me I'm assuming my usual resistant stance and not embracing the technology at all.  How dare the prompt interrupt my breakfast with directions to voice-record!  Da noive!

After that I had to check my credit report.  Experian, Trans-Union & Exifax have their own unique verifications that I yam who I yam, taking more precious time that was to be spent doing my taxes. Grrrr.

Nothing unusual anywhere among them, so fine.  On to the next task.  Which apparently was cleaning. So I cleaned 2 of 5 plantation shutters that desperately need to be cleaned.

After grabbing a bite to eat we headed to the gym for a heavy weight work out.  Reminded me of the old days (15+ yrs. ago) when I was a personal trainer training for an amateur body building contest.  We'd lift weights until we were numb, pound down some protein drink, hobble about the house and wear clothes that didn't aggravate sore muscles...ah, the good old days. *roll eyes*

After a quick clothing change we headed to Costco to check out glasses. I ended up purchasing 2 pairs for $5 more than LensCrafters wanted for the sunglasses alone. Shock!  So my HealthNet optical "discount plan" officially sucks. That $419 at LensCrafters was *my* cost.  For one pair of glasses.  From Costco I'm getting sunglasses and glasses with multifocal +Transitions+anti-glare coating+indexing (the anti-Coke bottle effect) for the cost of one pair from LC. Buh-bye LC!  Oh, and surprise!  Costco charged no tax.  Yessss! *fist-pump*

We then headed to a motorcycle shop. Chris is convinced that he needs a motorcycle helmet, as opposed to a hang-gliding specific helmet, and has done some research. The nearby shop came up on his Internet searches for having a huge variety of helmets.

And indeed they did. He spent a lot of time in the motocross helmet area, as they provide greater peripheral vision. But oy!  The graphics on those helmets are fugly!

Once he enlisted the aid of the shop owner, Sean, he focused his attention toward road/race helmets, and eventually narrowed down his search to something very eye-catching -- and it matches one of his gliders, too. So the OCP factor is acknowledged and met.  Because it's last year's model it's $200 off list price.  And the shop owner, Sean, rides a bicycle, an Orbea (same make as mine) and knows some of the people with whom we ride.

It is indeed a small world.  I'll get my glasses, Chris gets his helmet, we make a new connection, and we wait out the rain for the sunny days to come.

It's Time

Kameo and the kids and dogs came over Sunday night for dinner.  She cooked and brought chicken breasts, asparagus, portobello mushrooms & fresh pineapple, and did a mixed greens salad.  Chris made crab-stuffed mushrooms. The evening was magic -- the food, the wine, the company, the antics of dogs and kids -- and no matter where it came from, magic was present.  It seemed that we all needed that kind of fix.

So Kameo called me out on promises to race without actually committing to anything.  We sat down and surfed the NCNCA website and picked out 10 races to do.  A couple of the road races work out to where she can be my neutral feed zone support and picture taker in my race, and I can reciprocate in hers.  In at least one race our categories are combined and we can help each other out (esp. if our fellow 3's and 4's race with us). Giddy with anticipation I promised to email the dates to her and sign up.

Now, 2 days later, I'm looking at SportsBaseOnline and wondering if I really want to do my first race in nearly a year in 3 weeks....

There's a reason why I wear a black wristband with a NSFW phrase on it...time to step up the fierce.

Zen on Two Wheels

I left the house with plenty of time and no expectations. I hadn't ridden in 8 days; meetings, out-of-town seminar, showing property, walking the dogs, sorting my receipts and shredding old papers -- the list goes on and on.

So I needed some peace of mind and an endorphin fix bad. After spending the morning orgazing the loft/office (loftice? Offloft?), shredding a couple reams of old documents, and a couple loads of laundry I decided it was time to ride. The sun was bright, the sky blue, with big puffy cumulus clouds floating overhead.

I gave the dogs a bone to chew and rode out shortly after 1, when it was about as warm as it was going to get.  I spun out the first couple of miles to warm up.  I noticed when I hit the small rollers how much stronger my legs felt.  Thanks, TRX!

There was little traffic, no wind, just sights, sounds and smells.  The shady parts of Cantelow, still smelling freshly wet.  The burbling of the seasonal creeks under the bridges.  The brilliant exuberance of mustard in still-dormant orchards, with the bright clean green of the hills in the background.

Uphill, downhill, rollers, smelling the sensual honey essence of almond trees in full bloom, then back to crisp clear air.  Fresh-cut grass in the face, then wet road in the shade, more gurgling small rapids of a creek alongside the road. Clean air in the face, sun on my back. Effortless pedaling over smooth road, rough road, avoiding gravel, dancing up the hills, standing and sprinting because that felt like the thing to do. I didn't anticipate anything but the next turn of the cranks.

35 miles later, having spent every moment in the moment, I arrived home.  Refreshed, renewed, energized, feeling like the world was right again. Grabbed a snack, cleaned up, downloaded the data from  my Garmin, and was pleasantly surprised to see a 2-mile increase in my avg. mph and  a decrease in my avg. heart rate.

There's magic in taking each pedal stroke as a gift, appreciating the open road and views to sate the senses, and enjoying a ride for just that -- a ride.

A Momentous Month

Our daughter scored a job, teaching ESL in Georgia -- the country. She had 10 days from acceptance to liftoff, and she had plenty of obstacles to overcome:  Lack of diploma, Macbook misbehaving, etc. I shifted as much of my workload onto my partner as I could, reasonably, to have the car available to her.

In the end it all worked out, and we're all thankful. It could've been far worse.

Her copy of her diploma arrived 4 days after she left SFO.  Her county medical benefits card arrive 5 days after she left. Oh, the irony: Two months off the meds and she was more like the kid we remembered vs. the drugged kid who couldn't function much.  My belief is that had she still been on the meds she wouldn't be in Tbilisi, ready to launch to a small village.

And our son, after 4 months, 3 interviews, a 3rd-party background check, and innumerable phone calls, scored the job. I'm so proud of him for persevering in spite of the odds.

My loving husband got the promotion on which he's been working for over a year. And a pay grade bump.  He's one of 4 inspectors in the entire C-P  organization to be where he is now.

I'm so proud of them...they rock!  My investment as their support is paying off, and that gives me huge satisfaction.

It's a good life!

February Already

By 1/30 I'd taken 5 TRX classes, logged nearly 500 miles on my bike for the month (not counting trainer days), and a dozen sessions with Chris on the ellipticals and weight machines. Down 4 lbs. and up to a power of 10 in enthusiasm.  


We did some gym-shopping because Chris will be gone when our 30-day trial at Gold's is up.  Sunday was rainy, left over from Saturday night, and we opted to pass on the shop ride.  But once we were up, we were UP.  


And after talking to Lisa at Gold's, we signed up.  Nobody else in town could match what they offered.  We paid a year in advance and received 2 mos. onto the contract, plus t-shirts, towels, and water bottles.  We left, worked out and happy.


I rode my bike on Monday and accumulated another 47-miler with intervals and a 5-mile time trial thrown in; bonked shortly after the TT and had nothing but water and guts to get  home.  Ugh and ugh.  


Son rolled into town Tues. night late. He went for a bike ride with my TRX instructor and fellow teammate. They didn't exactly tell me I couldn't go with them, but after I heard what they did, I realized they were better off without me. Sad. But true.

Meanwhile, I attended a funeral for a well-loved, well-respected man whose wife & daughter are agents in my office. I met him in '06 and had no idea of his impact or history until today. I found him charming, quiet, intelligent, and dedicated to his family. I haz much training to do to be race-shape.

The funeral was a full-on Catholic mass, and there were over 200 people in attendance. The opening hymn had me teary and lo, the weeping never really stopped. Dammit. And it was a lovely service.  

Then they had a fully-catered luncheon and over 150 attended that. Nice chance to meet the other daughters, hug the wife and daughter I know, share with some mutual friends his memory. He would have wanted that.

Still, for those 3 hours, the emotions were right on the surface and I found that draining. Had no "oomph" -- and my friends/colleagues were right there -- we all were feeling sapped -- and we used humor and anecdotes to bring us back to center. 

So coming home to a daughter cooking some tasty veggie soup, son still endorphin-filled over his bike ride, husband happy to be home, and dogs excited to see me was a fulfilling experience that made today worthwhile. 

The fine point: Daughter weighed all the ingredients for her soup so we could log it into the Livestrong.com software we use. As a recovering bulimic who has difficulty with our levels of detail re exercise and food, this was huge. After 14 months of living together as adults/family, she gets us (we figured her out a long time ago, but that's what parents do). And we get the dynamic.

As we ate the delicious dinner I had an epiphany: I don't need a damn thing. I have everything I need for a great life.

How life has changed with a vegan in the house

Meave is off on a date, and Chris is in SLC on business.  I watched the SOTU and cleaned the kitchen, texted with Chris, did laundry.  Ho-hum, right?

Rewind to 4 a.m., when for no reason my eyes popped open. I tried to go back to sleep for the 30 min. before the alarm was set to go off.  So I had plenty of time to feed dogs, make bed, drink coffee, and get to the gym in time for TRX.

So another challenging workout on the heels of 36 bike miles of intervals and tempo = fried tonight.

I'm glad to be working on strengthening my weak areas, even though the process is painful.  It's like selling real estate; it hurts and then the reward (check) makes it all worthwhile.

Back on topic:  Chris and Meave are both gone and I'm having a rare night alone.

I was going to finish off the ahi steak Chris grilled the other night, and I went to the spice cupboard to find something to sprinkle on top.  I found Porcini Salt, Tequila & Lime, Cilantro &Chipotle spices.  Wait, what?  Who uses that stuff?

Then it occurred to me that I've been eating this for months, without knowing it.  The way Meave has cooked her dishes the spices weren't readily apparent.  I can identify smoked paprika, but these spices are much nore subtle.

I'm pleasantly surprised by how tasty vegan dishes can be.  I also don't have a problem having a vegan dish with a side of fish, chicken, etc. I'm impressed by the assortment of new spices in my cupboard, and how they make food so tasty.