for all my friends

God Bless America...

2008-11-06T14:10:00.000-08:00

The days previous to this last election I kept getting those email links to Leonardo DiCaprio's video telling me "not to vote". I thought it was funny. Since I turned 18, I've voted in every election except one. Big election, little election, I vote, dammit! And I go to the polls, no absentee voting or early voting for me. It's a ritual I love. I am damn proud of being a member of a democratic state. I think it's cool that I don't live under the Taliban or something. I love taking advantage of it, and wearing my "I voted" sticker.

Why do none of these well meaning, big election voters know that? At least I assume they don't know, because they sent me links asking me to vote. I think it's because I don't discuss politics. I spent my life listening to my right-of-Karl Rove dad rant and rave about the damn liberals, and I have his temperament, if not his political leanings. I don't want to force others to listen to me passionately rant on and on about things I only half understand. And, naturally as a result of my childhood, I'm afraid of others doing the same.

But I love my right to vote, and I always do it. During the continental congress, I would have been a Thomas Jefferson groupie standing outside the door waiting to seduce him with a flash of my ankle.

People should vote. At every opportunity available. It's not only your right, it's your responsibility. Maybe your vote doesn't really count, but what if it does?

VIVA La Fuel Savings!

2008-09-22T19:26:00.000-07:00

Filled the tank once in August, and once so far in September. Carpool to work, ride to groceries and other errands. I wrote the insurance company about my new driving habits, and they offered me a small discount. Hmmmm...still not enough savings, though. I've got 13 days to decide if I'm gonna' retire the poor old beast and do without car headaches for a while...it's a hard decision.

My Life in Junk

2008-09-01T16:46:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago I couldn't shut my file drawer. I put in a retirement savings quarterly report or something like that. Stuff I think I should save. And then, it was full. This big fat drawer was stuffed full of my life's minutiae. I couldn't close it.

So I cleaned it out.

Tax returns back to 1991.

Old papers I wrote in college when I thought I was brilliant and insightful. Comments from instructors in the margins asking me to dig deeper into the text. How bored they must have been with my sophomoric musings written only to get that degree my parents always wanted for me. How smart I thought I was back then.

Warranties for things I do not even own anymore.

A drawer full of psychic junk.

Emptied. Except for the necessities?

It's only half full, now.

Like my future's glass.

Hoofin' It. Spinnin' it. Savin' gas.

2008-07-11T16:23:00.000-07:00

I grew up with God watching everything I did and begging forgiveness for being a regular kid every night before I went to bed. I gave that up at 17, and partied a lot until I found honky-guilt at UC Santa Cruz in my twenties. So, then I went to work with disadvantaged youth of color and had nowhere for the guilt to go. But, then, I found it again, now I can go back to the comforts of my guilt-filled childhood by feeling responsible for the abuses towards the environment.
I'm making an effort to solve that problem, too. No driving. Well, less driving. Well, my old car is dying a slow death, and I don't want to buy a new one. I want to spend my money going to fashion design school and riding bikes, and eating high quality organic food. Gasoline fueled engines make the sky ugly and encourage old conservative guys to start wars. I want to wash my hands of this blood and angst. And save money. And those of you who know me, know I am a bad driver. Yep, Old Lady Seery was right not to let me drive the van back from Moab back in '99. I can admit that now that I almost lost my license.
Anyway, for a month I've been trying to drive less. I've carpooled, ridden my bike, walked and ridden caltrain and BART. My rough estimates have me traveling 700-800 miles without driving my own vehicle. I've saved money on gas and learned a few lessons, too.

Lesson #1: Freedom Isn't Free
Yeah, it's really cool to be able to drive in the carpool lane and smile kindly at the solo drivers as you drive the speed limit as they read a book while trying to avoid their next guy's bumper at ten miles an hour. And it is fun to talk to your carpool pals. But, you have to be prepared for other things. Like not doing that extra lap at the bike festival because your ride needs to leave, or going to get a SCUBA tank to help build a spud gun when you hadn't planned on it (that was actually fun, but what if I'd had to urgently check an email or something?), or having you carpool buddy freak out on the traffic and almost turn around. Then there's the trying to get it together with other's schedules. Oh Vey. But, it saves society from my driving menace, and it saves the money and the environment.
Lesson #2: Timing IS Everything
You gotta' plan better for a no-car lifestyle. Bring the right size bag for shopping on the bike, don't stop at Whole Foods for a sandwich without checking the train schedule first, allow time to put on your sunblock, pack extra clothes 'cause you'll be sweaty when you get there, know how to get to the other train and BART stations in case you end up away from the one you're used to leaving from, find out who you know is going to be at the event you want to go to, and be on good terms with them. I just need to put cab companies numbers into my phone, and I'll be ready for a full-blown no car lifestyle.
Lesson #3: It's all About Balance
It's really important to be conscious of how to walk in your cleats on grocery store floors if you want to include the store in your road ride. I was scared to move quickly, I almost slipped a few times. It's also a challenge to speed along on your road bike with a heavy messenger bag full of groceries. New balance shifts for me to learn. How to best fit the bag to avoid back and shoulder pain took some trial-and-error as well.
Lesson #4: Earn and Burn
Not driving is like paying yourself. But it's not all savings. This new lifestyle has made me more hungry and more tired. But I know the tired part is an adjustment, and why complain about getting to eat more food? I just have to remember to bring it with me. It's still cheaper than gas. Caltrain is cheaper than driving the distance I've been going from Redwood City to San Francisco, and faster on the morning commuter baby bullet train. BART is kinda' expensive, but I only had to use it once so far. The bike is cheapest, but comes with the most inconvenience, like helmet hair and sticky girl sweat.

When my next six-month insurance payment comes due, I may not pay it. We'll see how it goes. It's easy to run errands on the bike in the summer. Winter, that's another story...

Misadventures in Cycling

2008-06-03T09:30:00.000-07:00

Ever look around at your life and realize you do very little socializing that doesn't revolve around bikes? Sometimes I wonder if it's a problem, like what would I do if I couldn't ride anymore? Who would I talk to? How would I get my jollies? Would I become the Frida Kahlo of cycling, painting tortured interpretations of my lost cycling days?

But that's neither here nor there. Last weekend was all about my little bike world.

Friday night was the Hellyer Hoedown, sponsored by Velo Girls and La Dolce Velo. Lorri asked me if I wanted to help, and I asked for a spotlight position. I was assigned bell ringer. Lorri said all I had to do was ring a bell and look cute. No problem. I've been cute for years, and my bell ringing fingers work. turns out I had to pay attention to the racers and the laps, too. Then there were three different guys giving me three different directions promising to coach me through it all. I thought it must be more complicated than it seemed, being there was so much seriousness in their eyes. Add to that Lorri using kinesthetic sexual innuendo to model bell ringing, and I was dust. Turns out it was simple, but I still did it wrong. By the time I figured out it was simple, and the first guy to give me directions was the only one I should have listened to, I was fired. I got canned from the dumb pretty girl job. Never mind that Facebook has me listed as 62% intelligent. I know I was wrong for this job because there was no creativity involved, and a lot of paying attention. I am very bad at being serious, meticulous, and paying attention. But my outfit was super cute. Okay, I can pay attention to matching colors and lines.

Saturday, woke up lazy and laid around for a while because I knew I had to wait for Jimmy to finish putting his new ride together. We finally got it together at 3:00. Off to Demo to see about the fire damage. We parked around the corner from the road closure, and were almost on the bikes when we were told by some riders that the road was open. In the car we hopped and drove down to the gate. Riding up Highland, we saw a lot of ash and fire crews doing clean-up. On Buzzard Lagoon, we were passed three times by CDF trucks. We thought we were free to cruise up the climb without another stop when we were confronted by a skunk family. The mother skunk bailed on the babies and they united against us. Jim and I were chased by four or five fuzzy little fur balls. I couldn't believe we were being intimidated by baby skunks, but they knew the power of their spray and brought it on. When they were satisfied that we were truly afraid of them, they ran back into the bushes. After a lot of "Let's see how we feel"s, at the top, we rode Braille. I had no mojo. The dirt was really dry and slippery, and I was really tired from the baby skunk chase. On the drive home we were confronted by a road block where none had been before, and had to go the long way home through Corralitos. It wouldn't have been so bad surveying more fire damage, except we were starving.

Again, trying to be lazy on Sunday in the hopes of resting up for the laundry, watching a movie in bed, ring! Nic wants to go on a road ride. I suggested the pie ride, and off we went. All was well and good. A chatty pace, for 25 miles of rolling climbs ending up at Gizdich pie! Nic had a Dutch Berry and I had Dutch Apple. Nice pie and coffee talk, then off for the 18 miles of flats back. All was well and good until a mile from home, Nic and were brazenly riding side-by-side so that she was lifting her front wheel over the drainage grates. Apparently our conversation was that important. Inspired by her boldness, I compressed my bike and lunged up to clear a pothole. I learned really quickly that there is a difference in the reaction when compressing a steel frame compared to a full suspension bike. I got higher than I thought, and came crashing down hard on my left side. I have some elbow abrasions and a little hip scrape. My left side shifter needs lots of love, now. So does my neck.

Misadventures and bikes. Even if I didn't ride, I'd probably still have misadventures. It's just my way, I think.

The Joy of the Deadline

2008-04-03T21:27:00.000-07:00

I love deadlines. They give me energy. I get stuff done. I feel like a champ when I've got a deadline.

I can relax for a very long time. In fact, I don't get into action at all without a deadline.

Just got done getting ready for the weekend. Race at the Bogg's 8 hour. It is going to be fun, I think. Lots of old friends. Bike riding. Camping. Stuff I love to do.

And I got my apartment clean after the energy frenzy of packing up and list making. My apartment's been gross for weeks, but having that race prep got me into action.

And I am so glad I got the lay off notice. Because I've been fantasizing about becoming an active wear designer for a long time. And now I have a deadline.

No more being jealous and thinking what if. Now's the time.

Maybe I'll suck at it. But now I get to know for sure.

Turns Out I'm the Solution to State Overspending...

2008-03-19T14:40:00.000-07:00

I was scheduled for tenure next year. Today I got my layoff packet of forms to sign. They layed off every teacher who was hired in the last two years.

I am a great teacher, no lie. But I do not have tenure here. I did in my last district, but I hated that job. I like this one much more. I like living here much more than over the hill. I wonder if I'll be able to keep living here.

The state of California messed up. From our superintendent:

"This district had a balanced budget when we started this school year. We are now staffed to improve the lives of our students. This district did not create the current crisis to which we now are required to respond. This is a time when we need to work together to bring about a balanced budget, and we need to contact our legislators to say loud and clear "We did not create this overspending problem - Don't make us and the children we serve the solution." Let your voice be heard at the state level.

Data from the state indicates that K - 12 education was increasing at 4.1% as compared to 6.8% for the state's overall baseline budget. Growth rates in corrections, debt service, and Health and Human Services were higher-than-average . K-12 has not been overspending. K-12 should not be bearing the brunt of other divisions overspending. Write your legislators and the governor. Fund schools now or plan to build even more prisons in the future."

Truthfully, the educational ship in Cali has been sinking for years. Now's the time to act like a rat, even though there's gonna' be union lawyers trying to cover my ass.

Yeah, I guess it's time to take that home down payment savings and go to design school like I've wanted to for about three years.

Signed,

Scared, but Totally Free

Made My Day

2008-02-24T22:34:00.000-08:00

I went to Trader Joe's looking for Italian sausage for a lentil stew. They didn't have any. I got Andouille instead.

I decided to get beer, too. Whitbread Pale Ale.

The cute little cashier girl carded me. I snort-chuckled back.

"Are you laughing at me?"
"I'm going to be 40 this year."
"Wow, you look so good. My boyfriend is going to be 30 this year. He's worried about it. "
"30 is great. Tell him not to worry. I hope I can get all these groceries back to my place on my cruiser."
"I'm going to tell my boyfriend about people like you who look young and are living a full life."
"Tell him to eat his vegetables and to exercise. Have a good night."
"Thanks, you too."

I love this town. I love my lifestyle. I love that I inspired a 24 year-old by being myself.

And to think I was bumming earlier today...

Wisdom I Have Gained and Fears of the Unknown

2008-02-24T12:49:00.000-08:00

The Bike Life
I signed up to be in another endurance team event. I'm stoked because it's going to be basically a party with bikes in the woods with my some of my favorite people: the Team Wrong Way Boys, who put together a massive team roster. I've been placed on a team with two of my favorite friends: Jeni and Heather. I am told this is Heather's beer season and Jeni has been focusing on school and work. I plan to be the slower teammate despite hard effort, because both of these women kick ass, even without training.

Still, I don't want to be miserable out there, so I've begun to ride more consciously.The last time I did one of these " just for fun" eight hour events, the day following the event I awoke with a huge swollen knee I couldn't stand on. It took a couple of years to fully recover.

I have been the laziest climber since last September's 24 Hour Race, and I've done pretty much no long rides. So, I'm back in the saddle for long slow rides, and trying to ride with someone who kicks my ass at least one a week. Not exactly a world-class racer's training plan, but I figure that this will at least prep my body to avoid Synovitis brought on by sudden overuse.

Coming to Terms with New Frontiers in the Romance Life

Being 39 years old, my dating pool is full of single-dads. I like them because they've got more heart and tend to be dedicated to their kids (which is so darn wholesome), in contrast to a lot of men my age who are just dedicated to themselves. I still get amazed that there's lots of dating to be had at my age, being that I assumed I expired at 35 according to common knowledge of male behavior and preferences for youth. That aside, there's this whole new world of kids to deal with.

Now , I'm not afraid of becoming a step-mom someday. I've got step-parents on both sides of the family, and step-siblings, too. I've been a nanny more than once, and I am a teacher. Guiding kids and managing kids' behavior doesn't scare me at all (even if managing an ex-wife does).

However, last night I had a dream. I was giving kids a bath. I don't remember what they looked like, but I do remember clearly seeing a narrow shelf at the top of the wall on which I had placed a laptop and speakers. Although the shelf was about three inches wide, the laptop and speakers were perfectly balanced.

I was trying to watch something on the computer screen. In my dream I had a consciousness that it was risky to have electronics over the bathtub, but I did it anyway. Of course, the computer and the speakers fell in the tub. Because it was a dream, I had lots of time to react.

My first thought was to be upset that the laptop was ruined. Then I realized I could be electrocuting the kids. I told them to get out of the tub, then I unplugged everything. I received a minute shock in the process, like when you touch something that gives you that little jolt. Nothing happened to the kids.

What's it all mean? I don't know for sure.

Dia del Amor

2008-02-13T16:59:00.000-08:00

When I was in elementary school Valentine's Day was fun. Candy, cards for everyone in class, and you got to make construction paper cards for your mom or whomever. It was all about a whole world of red and pink candy coated love.

In high school, even if I didn't have any one boyfriend in particular, there was always a friend or some goofy guy who liked me that sent a rose or two to my class. I always felt loved and happy about it. I always sent roses, too.

Then I grew up and Valentine's Day got weird. A boyfriend I lived with helped a friend move that day and brought me a Japanese doll from the Goodwill pile for a present. I got mad because it seemed like it was thoughtless and last minute. I broke up with him a year later because he wasn't going anywhere in life that I wanted to go. He moved to Hawaii and tried to get me back a few times. I don't know where he is now.

The next boyfriend I had on Valentine's Day went out drinking with his friends and wasn't at his house at the time we had planned to meet. We lived 30 miles apart at the time. I left the present I had made for him with love, consideration and planning, telling his roommmate to tell him to fuck off when he got home. Later I got a phone call telling me how freaked out he got on Valentine's Day, what an asshole he felt like, and what a beautiful present I had put together. He broke up with me about a year and a half later because I was too, well, me, I guess. He is now married with a kid. One time he was at a party without his wife, and started to get a bit flirty talking about the fun times we had. I got away from him fast, like I should have done that Valentine's Day. Sometimes I see him around town and we are friendly.

Other boyfriends are kind of a blur as far as chronological order. One I was with on and off for about two years, he always managed to miss Valentine's Day, but I did score on my birthdays and Christmas' during that time, and for some reason, we shared two July 4th's. Another one really tried to do his Valentine's Day duty, got a hotel room, dinner reservations, flowers, everything a girl is suppossed to want. I had decided shortly before Valentine's Day to break it off with him, but didn't want to ruin his Valentine's plans, he'd been so thoughtful. I tried to fake it, but the truth always comes out. A month or so thereafter he hooked up with another woman and was all too proud to tell me about it. Take that, Valentine's Day faker!

A few years ago one of my guy friends who was just recovering from a divorce said, "Christmas hits you in the jaw, New Year's punches you in the stomach, and just when you're feeling good again, Valentine's Day comes along and kicks you in the balls."

I'd like to take a moment to declare, "Fuck you, Hallmark and all your stupid holidays!" Okay, it's probably not really Hallmark's fault. It's just that, Valentine's Day puts a lot of pressure on people. I know couples who've broken up over it. And while it's certainly not true across the board, I have the impression that a lot of men resent it, and try to just do the minimum to avoid hurting their woman.

I don't know, maybe it's just an annual relationship assessment opportunity, like New Year's resolutions. But it's so very public, everyone asking, "What are you going to do?" or "What did he do for you?"

For anyone out there that is truly celebrating a good relationship, good for you! For others, who are maybe just starting to date a person, or who are dating a few people trying to find the one that fits, or who are going through a divorce or a break up, or who are simply alone, Valentine's Day is an obnoxious boil on one's ass. It asks for clarification, causes questioning, and generally freaks those people out.

Don't get me wrong, I love Love. I've been in it a few times and looking forward to it happening again. So, to love in all it's beauty, because we must celebrate it when it is here. But please, don't force us to fake it once a year when the love is uncertain, or unclear.

Humpday's Half Week in Review

2008-02-06T19:08:00.000-08:00

This sweet objet d'art was produced while I was teaching the kids how to write essays. Who needs to pass the California High School Exit Exam when you've got this kind of talent?

What kills me is that my outfit is dead on, but I think the smile and the audience is an interpretation of character...if you click on the drawing, you'll see the guy with the mohawk has a painful looking tongue piercing. This is better than the one where they made me a Mexican with a huge sombrero.

This next one is an homage to toe clips. Upon searching the web for "toe clips", this instructional photo on log hopping in toe clips came up. It kills me, too. Why toe clips you ask? Last Sunday Jessica talked me into a rainy day hardtail ride. She showed up with toe clips and sneakers. Wow, I was scared for her, but she made it happen for three point five hours of rain soaked agony and ecstacy.

And, finally, we have election day. I hesitate to share which way I voted, because I really don't want to hear your political opinions, unless they are like mine, of course...

...but then, I'm probably just trying to throw you off. So, please, don't share yours. We're all wrong in some way, anyhow.

My Life Kicks Ass

2008-01-27T22:39:00.001-08:00

Saturday started with some ass kickin' yoga. Don't let the peace and spiritual orientation of the website fool you. The class is edifying and calming, before and after you stand on your head and commit other acts of wild contortion.

But, of course, that wasn't enough. I had to ride. I busted out the old hardtail and headed for the muddy hills.

An apple, some almonds, a rain jacket and a fender, I was off for a journey, and loving it.

The trails weren't all that soupy, and my voyage of discovery was filled with long slow cardio climbs followed by flowing single track downhills. Ah, the sweetness of winter base climbing in the woods. I'd forgotten the connection to the earth and my wheels that I get from that steel frame. All hail Hunter. I saw some hikers, but none of them glared (and some had a right to, if you know what I mean). I even got a wink and a nod from one family out there. That's one of the best parts of winter, too: most everyone you run into out there is stoked to be out, and to share the stoke. No fair weather hikers deep in the woods this time of year.

I was so in the flow, I got lost at one intersection, but found a trail new to me. It was super fun, and I could have ridden it forever if I had known where I was going. Something about being in the woods after dark all by my lonesome kept me from going in further. As it was, I got home 20 minutes before sunset.

After that, I was treated to the symphony. Another first for me.

The bad stuff doesn't really matter that much after you've been on a good, clean muddy ride.

Working on the Ground Floor of the American Dream

2008-01-25T12:59:00.000-08:00

Ah, yes, it is raining away, but work does not stop. I miss my bikes, and the trainer simply sucks. all hail yoga.

I'm sitting in my classroom, reading paragraphs about my students' families.

Kids are so great, so open, so trusting, they tell me what they really see, think, feel.

Although they have been through so very much in their immigrant lives, gang-filled lives, drug-infested lives, outwardly hopeless lives, they trust their future. They learn English, they struggle to reach things most American kids are freely given, and so often, my students succeed.

Damn straight there's a tear in my eye.

This once stressful job has become a miracle teaching me to believe in my country again.

Sometimes it's so easy to forget, in the midst of corporate greed, rising costs of living, and the annoyance of my district's lack of keeping our pay current with inflation, that this still is the land of opportunity.

And I am blessed to be its eye witness.

Everyday.

La Chaim!

2008-01-14T18:26:00.000-08:00

I'm sitting here, eating my organic carrot and my organic apple. Both locally grown. The apple is a Braeburn. I prefer Fuji. But the Braeburn was locally grown, the Fujis weren't.

Why care?

This county is known to have higher than average numbers in the breast cancer world. Rumor has it pesticides could be bad. That bad.

Now, I haven't had cancer, but it seems like it really sucks. More than sucks.

I love my life. I love to ride.

Braeburn over Fuji. Consumers vote with dollars. I vote for health.

More years to ride, fewer for chemo.

Just doing my part. It's all I got.

WTF?

2008-01-03T21:32:00.000-08:00

It's raining here. Jesus.

Sunny in TEjas.

Frickin' raffin' smickin' smakin'.

okay, Im' comin' home

2007-12-21T11:55:00.000-08:00

the 28th.

Pick me up at the airport?

When we ridin'?

F#*& it

2007-12-19T19:18:00.000-08:00

No bike to Texas. Less time in Texas. Been crazy stressed out.

Stressed you guys, I'm goin' home and ridin'.

Stupid bike transportation costs and hassles.

Next time, road trip.

Yeah, I know, slacker!

2007-12-17T21:27:00.000-08:00

Uh, I started working, dating, riding, living in general, but I'm back, sort of.

My sister's got 70 acres, my daddy's got tractors and stuff, and my nephews have dirt bikes. We're going to build a dirt course out there. I need something to do for 19 days. Stay turned for pics and reports starting next week (or sooner).

As the Wheel Turns

2007-08-01T12:09:00.000-07:00

Cycling has its own cycles, even in semi-non-seasonal NorCal. My cycle was disrupted for me, being it was dirt season. Now it's my road season, and it is a good season.

I miss my dirt buddies. I miss my road buddies, too. My favorites are all married away, moved away, stopped riding, or got too fast for me. That's always part of the cycle, too.

This last week or so I've been spinning for a couple of hours, messing around with going as slow as possible and keeping a solid balanced spin. Just me and the old bike. No expectations, no other people's speeds, routes, or training plans to worry about. Just the bike. Just me. Feeling it out. Feeling what hurts the chest, what doesn't. Good news is it's no longer bad pain, just irritating when I jump out of the saddle for a standing climb. I've been looking at the world around the ride, and I live in a damn beautiful place.

Being forced to slow down was good for me. That's part of my cycle, too. No matter what I do to try to control my ride time, I eventually over-do it, ignore that I'm tired, then fall down stairs or something else, like impaling myself on a section I usually would have been fine on.

Performance-orientation can be so dangerous: it's weird, the same time I was knocked down a peg on my bike, my grades stopped being A's on my assignments, and went to A-. I'd been powering through the work, absorbing everything. I was powering through my workouts, forcing myself past exhaustion, ignoring minor crashes as signs of fatigue. Then, boom. Out for the count, and my brain doesn't want to learn anymore.

It's the time-out part of the cycle. I'm not getting paid for any of this. And the payout seems to be pain.

I'm not a natural, and that's okay. Everyone I ride with is faster than me, and that's okay, too. However, the A- grades need to be brought back up. I can't suck at everything I do, after all.

Is it Wrong to Still Want to Do It?

2007-07-24T15:17:00.000-07:00

Two strange men got to see my breasts today. And they were paid for it. Since I tried to impale myself on Stumpy's bars at Northstar on Saturday, I've had a very disturbing pain in my chest. So I decided to go on down to Doctors on Duty and see if I had a broken rib or something.
Funny, when it happened, my first thought was to go see the medic to check if I could keep riding. My second thought was to invest in body armor. Allie had lent me a full-face helmet that day, so of course I took it in the chest, not the face. I went down on terrain similar to this, I messed up at the bottom of a small rock drop:

Besides the usual checks of temperature, pulse, and blood pressure, I received tender compressions all over my chest, comparing the pain in my right breast to my left (that's a visual for Jimbo in case he stops by), stuff stuck to my chest, arms, and legs for the EKG, and a chest X-Ray. I have never seen my ribs, lungs, and heart before. It was pretty cool. Unfortunately, It looks like I swallowed my Heart Rate Monitor:

Turns out it's just soft tissue damage. It hurts like a !^%$*( &^$%*!, though. I'm not supposed to fall down until it's healed. I am also supposed to do deep breathing exercises so my lungs get some action. Each breath hurts. A lot. So does laughing. I guess I need to stop being funny for a week or two and make an effort to only hang out with really serious people. And I plan to be just on the road bike for at least this week. Poor Stumpy isn't made for Northstar. Her Matchmaker got cracked. Any day now the part that keeps the shifters and brakes on could go. Sigh.
I want a bigger bike. The spending never ends, does it?

I'm so dirty

2007-07-04T17:00:00.000-07:00

It's been a lot lately. All kinds of dirt. Downieville dirt, Northstar dirt, UCSC dirt. And today I got water in my ear, too.

The Stumpy's been hitting it hard. Ride three was up and over loose rock, loose dirt, and next to scary ass drops in Downieville. She climbed a little, descended a lot, and went over crazy rocks.

Ride five she went up chair lifts and descended down super loose dirt, swooped up into the air a little, and crashed me on my face. No blood, just a scrape. New love for Northstar, oh yeah.

I'm getting a full-face helmet.

Ride six was actually near my house. A group, learning to do jumps. I flailed, but I know what I need to do, now. Start small to get the body English wired. Combining an uncomfortable speed with unfamiliar technique is too hard for me. Besides, I don't like learning in front of an audience, no matter how cool they are about my learning curve. I learned to snowboard like that. Lessons didn't help, poor ex-boyfriends suffered frustrated rants until I figured out I needed to teach myself on almost flat terrain how the board moves before I let gravity take over. I've never been a physical prodigy. New things that can hurt you are hard for me to learn.

Thanks to you all who have been so cool lately: Devil-D who let us stay at his home last weekend, Alex for encouraging me, even though I was scared, Dave for the b-day cake, Nic for the bell, Chris for suggesting Northstar, Caroline for my birthday oatmeal, Thomas for taking me helmet shopping. Cool people make the ride more fun.

July Fourth. Too many parties. Parties are usually good, but my homework is killing me. Tomorrow will be hell, because I know I am going to be bad tonight.

Because They're There

2007-06-26T22:26:00.001-07:00

Hitting the Books

2007-06-23T18:03:00.000-07:00

I just studied for five hours. I haven't been in college for ten years.

It's kind of fun, but, wow, I've forgotten how to study efficiently.

How long until I start to remember the short cuts?
Ah, it's okay - I'm going to Downievillle tomorrow. Gonna' ride my new steed where she deserves to be ridden.
...And I was able to answer all of the review questions. That's right, I know everything.

Hamster Wheel

2007-06-23T09:29:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I feel like I am the victim of too much information.

Not the gross kind, where someone graphically describes their bowel movement without provocation, or the disenheartening kind, when the object of an intense infatuation describes in endless detail their fascination for someone else.

Religion, science, love, hate, virtue, selfishness, self care, cruelty, wood, glass, materially identifying ourselves with clothing, cars, handshakes, and the image we hope to promote: all choices.

At times I feel the draw of the easiness of simply going insane, or becoming a nun, or just walking out of this reality into another. Maybe I'll become a truck-stop waitress and live in a trailer in Needles.

The burden of responsibility and the inanity of post survival social climbing at times is simply too much.

My mother once said I should get a dog so I have a reason to go to work. Is that why people have children?

Reasons: choice theory states that everything we do is an effort to fulfill one of five basic needs. Survival, freedom, love and belonging, power and achievement, fun. General psychological malaise is the result when we perceive one or more of these needs is not getting met. And the clincher: the balance of these is different for everyone.

I am suffering from ennui. Religion is too silly to believe in, materialism is hollow, and I just want to be myself. I guess I could get a dog, but then I would have to clean up after it, and remember to come home to it, and I wouldn't be able to keep running on this mental hamster wheel.

Vet bills would get in the way of my savings for a home (can't say house when you will inevitably spend the majority of your hard-earned salary on a piece of air surrounded by the walls of an apartment they say is yours to paint inside).

Ennui is the result of fulfilling the survival need. I guess I'll have to go out and defy death on my new bike some more.

English Teachers Aren't Very Good with Mechanical Stuff...

2007-06-16T14:58:00.000-07:00

Hi Blogger Fans!

I'm writing you from the sidewalk in front of my apartment, relishing the successful installment of my wireless router. Why is she on the side walk you ask? Well, dear reader, it is a story that begins long ago when I ordered some bike parts...

Bike building. Oh the agony and the ecstasy. Team sponsorship. Oh the payments we make when we try to save! Getting help from friends and making new foes along the way...

The good news is that she's almost done. She is being completed with loving care at by Casey of the Spokesman this very moment. I came across a stumbling block that neither I nor the ever resourceful DJ could handle at the home shop level (read: couldn't get the info we needed to complete the job without buying a bunch of mounting brackets and committing a lot of time to trial and error).

The trials of this endeavor: Front derailleurs come in all kinds of shapes, sizes, and function capabilities, I ordered the wrong one. Owner's manuals don't tell you much. Warehouse monkeys will give you three mounting brackets all identical to each other, and each inappropriate for the rotor you're trying to fit. Each person on the chain of getting things done has a different opinion, and sometimes those opinions are in conflict.

What I've learned in the end is that all decisions are truly mine, and I've done the best I can with making them. I've also learned that I need help, lots of it.

Back to the sidewalk, after learning so much about bike stuff, I've decided to take stuff apart on my car to change a light assembly.
I read the manual, got out my tools, and soon learned that in cars some places are blocked by lots of other parts. I'm waiting for a car mechanic friend to come over and save me from myself. Like I said, I need lots of help...

Tits of Steel Do It for 24 Hours

2007-06-11T14:11:00.000-07:00

Don't tell the Hamana Hos......but Tits of Steel just wanted to race the 24 Hours of Adrenaline for fun. However, that's not the way it went...

Friday evening: set up camp and socialize with our camp mates the Velo Nerds,Google Earthlings, Team MBOSC, and our pal DJ in a phenomenal social area set up with comfy camp chairs, stoves, a keg, and a heater donated to the group by our sexy volunteer, Geo. I decided that this weekend was going to be fun, and began to enjoy my first Google sponsored pint in my commemorative glass. Our gracious sponsors Jeni and Kyle soon showed up and began to wow the crowd with BR Lights. A fun social evening. A great start.

7:00 am: crawl out of a warm tent for two monster cups of Santa Cruz Coffee Roasting Company's Fair Trade Organic Sumatra Dark Roast and two slices of Nicole's campfire toast with organic peanut butter and raw honey. It was cool to see Eve out there supporting us and Mark, since she had to drop off the team for motherly purposes.

10:00 am: We saw Caroline off to her running start, then I sat in the shade to hydrate and enjoy my final moments of rest.

2:30 pm: first lap. While I was waiting for Becky to come in, volunteer extraordinaire Geo gave me an awesome back rub (that's Nic in the photo), including pulling my shoulders out of their cyclist's slouch position with his giant man hands of steel. It was a rough and rutty dust fest out there until Hurl Hill. I regretted the high tire pressure I was running until I got to the climbs.

My hardtail scooted up the fire roads and shot me up the giant fire road whoopties in my big ring. What sucked on the ruts made those long climbs easy. A fair trade in a course with about 2000 feet of climbing. I resolved that during lap two I would power through the rough sections with a little more resolve to reduce my lap time.

Between laps one and two, I was informed that we were in second place, the Hamana Hos were first. The excitement grew and the pressure was on.

8:00 pm: My best lap. We were in second place, and the Hamana Ho sharing my lap was waiting in the transition area with me. Her teammate came in shortly before Becky; Kyle told me I'd catch the Ho on the grind, and dammit if I didn't. I passed her, then she hopped on my wheel. I swerved over and slowed, then hopped on hers. She tolerated it for the remainder of the climb. Once we hit more technical stuff, she showed a bit of apprehension, so I passed her closely on a single track. She called, “Be careful!” after I scraped by, then followed me to the bridge. I hopped off the bike, ran up the stairs and she asked me if I was going to ride down the stairs on the other side. I just kept running, then ran down the middle of the flight, my bike blocking her way. At the bottom I knew the lap was mine, because I am strongest on the flats, and that's where I took off. I finished in front of her. She found me at the transition area, and gave me a big hug for making the lap fun. Then she offered to teach me to ride stairs in the morning after the race, because she said I was a good rider and shouldn't be afraid. Jeni was standing there with a knowing smile as I thanked the competition for her offer. How could I tell her I didn't ride them because I knew it's what she wanted? I think this was the first time in my life where I felt competitive enough and strong enough to use some strategy out there. It was a new feeling for me, and I liked it.

10:30 pm: Old habits are hard to break. One and a half pints from the keg, not so bad, right? I wanted to wind down from the coffee, GU shots, and Gatorade all surging through my system. I headed to the tent, and caught very little sleep between random fits of anxiety.

1:30 am: Feeling oddly like an old shoe, I dressed in my warm cycling clothes. The best thing I can say about this lap is that BR Lights rock. The white light illuminated everything I needed to see out there, which was good, because I was delirious. I had no legs and no brain. I was caught on the grind by the tiny Ho that could. I resented her big time as I hopped on her wheel. She was making me work way harder than I wanted to. Eventually I dropped back, promising myself I would catch her soon enough. Suddenly I was alone; I saw night lights parallel to me, but maybe 500 feet up. Realizing that I was no longer on the course, I sighed and threw my bike over my shoulder to hike back up to it. I finished three minutes behind the Tiny Motorized Ho. We had been eight minutes ahead. Never have I been so bummed to have dropped off of a wheel.

7:00 am. Caroline woke me to tell me we were ten minutes ahead again, and I didn't have to do my last lap if I would let Sophie take it. In my mind I heard, “You are the weakest link. Good-bye.” I was happy to sip coffee as I warmed the bench and cheered on Nicole and Sophie as they left for the last two laps.

10:45 am: We beat the Hos by one lap. The day was sunny, and the beer relatively cool. Dance contests filled the void until the awards ceremony. We patiently awaited our podium call as we basked in the wonder of our win. The announcer called out “First place, Tits of Steel” and we jumped up to receive the glory. It was exciting to throw on the yellow jerseys, receive the first place medals, and get cheered on by the crowd. It was really cool to hold the BR Lights banner during all of the photos, and to stay on the stage for photos of just our team.

This weekend will definitely go down as one of the most awesome in my book. Geoff, Jeni and Kyle were tireless in taking care of us for the entire race. I mean, these people gave us cocoa, rubbed our shoulders, mounted our lights and cheered us on every minute of the race. DJ had gotten me a tent at the last minute, and Mark & Eve lent me their cozy sleeping bag. My teammates were so mellow, beautiful, and wonderful to race with. We took first place and made our light sponsor proud. I met more cool people with whom I hope to ride again. It was a big 24 hour love fest.

Will Tits of Steel race next year, or just go down as a one hit wonder? Who can say, but I can't help wondering, what would have happened if we had actually trained for this?

Lots going on...

2007-06-06T12:31:00.000-07:00

Wabbit came and climbed over my balcony, onto a ledge, and saved me from freezing my ass off when I locked myself out. Thanks Wabbit.

Big Wabbit hugs for you!

I went to Dallas for a wedding. I was supposed to sleep in the same home as the teen-aged kids of the groom. Everyone trusts a teacher. During my fifth glass of wine, the 14 year-old came and said, "You're our designated driver." "Uh, does your brother has a license?" "He's got a permit." As we approached the car after bidding the new groom daddy good-bye (whom I promised the kid would not drive), I gave the kid the keys. We got lost a few times, but we made out way. Is it legal to drive a drunken adult when you have a permit?

The bike parts saga continues. only awaiting the headset at the moment. it's been any day now for a while. Spending all of this dough and waiting waiting waiting, it's just like being unemployed. No money, no cool ride. I'm ready for some new girl clothes, but I really need new pads, new helmet, and new everything so I can be brave and do new stuff while I lose less skin. At least I got a pretty dress for the wedding. If any boys want to take me out, I can show a little leg and a lot of cleavage like a real girl.

The next generation of former delinquents has graduated. It is really fun being in a small school. The graduates all had stories told about them, we whooped and hollered, and tears were shed, even on the part of school board members. Kids sang, gave speeches, and I cried like a baby as they told about where they've come from and the struggles they've overcome, how they're going to go to college. Times like that make me so proud.

Do you know where your bike parts are?

2007-05-25T15:50:00.000-07:00

I think I do:

5/25/2007 10:31:00 AM THE DELIVERY INTERCEPT REQUEST FOR THIS PACKAGE  WAS
SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED;THE ADDRESS HAS BEEN CORRECTED. THE DELIVERY HAS BEEN RESCHEDULED SUNNYVALE, CA US

Expected:Jan. 1, 1900 12:00:00 AM 
HUH?

Waiting, waiting, waiting....

The poor UPS guy. I'm probably going to jump on him like the homemaking wife of a traveling sales guy.

2007-05-23T20:45:00.000-07:00

One of my best friends is getting married in two weeks, in Dallas. I didn't know until two days ago. She had my latest address wrong, and the invitation was lost. Another of my friends had a showing of her movie, but I didn't know. Her hard drive had crashed, and she lost her email addresses. Whenever I see my sister, we rush to tell each other everything that's been going on in our lives. We are both so hungry for intimate female friendship.

I asked myself how did my life get this way? When I was younger, in school, friends were everything, I don't think an invitation getting lost in the mail would have prevented me from knowing about the wedding, or a crashed hard drive would have kept me from seeing the movie. My sister and I were close, we knew everything about each other.

Modern life is so hard on friendships. I know I spend my days at work, my off hours riding or taking care of some other business, then I'm tired. I don't keep in touch regularly anymore. Neither do any of my old friends.

Am I the only one that thinks something is wrong with that? Or is this freedom we have to live our own way and to roam about the country (or the globe for that matter) for a better salary or a preferred lifestyle truly the way to go? I mean, for the most part, I like the choices I've made and what I've been doing these days. But not knowing about the wedding of a friend who has been such an intimate part of my life for so long, it just really made me take a step back and look at things.

So, will I make more of an effort to call? Hmmm...I'm starting to feel sleepy again.

Ahhhhh

2007-05-15T21:28:00.000-07:00

Sore legs. Tight back. Tight abs. Three days of dirt.

How sweet it is!

Big Bears Like Skirts

2007-05-11T17:19:00.000-07:00

I'm down to the dregs of the laundry.

Usually I wear jeans to work. Something about bending over to help students in a skirt is just uncomfortable. Plus, I like my comfortable shoes.

But I haven't been doing my laundry. Last weekend I was at a conference and then I've just been working and riding this week. So I had to wear a skirt to work, or really gross way too recycled jeans...

So, I walk towards my classroom, and the boys all look at my legs (another thing that weirds me out, when they look at my ass in jeans at least I don't know).

After I unlock the door, a boy who is called Oso, because he actually does have the shape of a big bear, comes into my room and says, "Hey Donna, Danny say you look pretty today." I say "Marco, I think you are the one who thinks that, and now you are embarrassing Danny." "Yes Donna, you are pretty today," he said back with a red sheepish grin before he shuffled off to the right class.

Are men really that easy, or is it just hormonally challenged adolescent boys?

Envy During the Wait

2007-05-07T16:34:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I wish I sat in front of a computer most of the day, so I could blog before work gets me tired. My boss always seems to find too much for me to do. Damn saving the world takes a lot of time...maybe I should send him this:

Then there's this whole salary issue. Over the course of building this bike, I am sooo jealous of those who don't have to wait patiently for all of the deals to come along and sponsors to send product, and blah blah blah. I know I am lucky to have the resources I do have, but damn, at my age, I could've had more dough, you know? I've been thinking a lot about the ways we pay, and when we pay. Because you've always got to pay, right? So I pay with low pay, but I get all the time off, I run my little classroom world, and, I get to feel damn good about what I do most of the time.

But I want to ride my new bike, NOW! It's not the same since I rode Jeni's bike in the Sugoi Clinic. I want my BIG FIVE INCHES NOW!!!! I want to jump and hop and drop off RIGHT NOW!!!

But will I feel this pain when the bike is done? I don't know...

And then there's the worst jealousy: all you lucky folks who have found a mate who wants to ride with you or go to races with you or even lives near you.

Just 'cause I chose to be a weirdo and make no money doing God's work doesn't mean I wanted to become a celibate nun. Just someone who I like who likes me, too. That's all I ask. Why is that so hard?

Belated Race Report

2007-04-23T16:15:00.000-07:00

So, back like a week and a half ago when I was in Austin, I went and did this Driveway Crit.

It all began with a bit of confusion as Smith Road was divided by a highway, and I turned on the wrong side. I stopped and asked a meandering trucker with bad teeth (I was in an industrial park) if he knew where this go-kart racing track was. He spoke with a meandering drawl, put a lot of thought into it, and then decided he really couldn't help me.

So, I used the old noggin', went across the highway, and found the other side of Smith Road. From there I wound over a narrow road through Texas jungle and decided the directions would have been better if they had read, "turn left at the old woman in the moo moo on her porch, go three miles passed the folks in the trailer, and continue until you see roadies warming up." There was nothing but dense tree cover and old houses until I popped out at the race track.

I parked and then went to register. The guy at registration didn't seem to understand me when I asked about the women's categories. Seems there were none. They put me in the master's men. "So this is bike racing in other places," I thought. "Great."

I did a two second warm-up, then lined up. I saw one other woman in pink and a tall skinny person who I suspected could have been a woman, but I was not sure. We were in a pack of about 20 guys. I decided it was going to suck, but did my best to hang with the pack. I did so for about 1/4 of a lap. I am proud to say that the other two (one?) women were also dropped pretty quickly.

Since I was dropped with no hope of recovery, I decided to have a good workout and practice some racer skills. I've been reading oV's race tips, and was inspired.

Unfortunately for this guy, he was also dropped, and I was ready to practice drafting. The race track was a series of right and left turns causing a constant change in direction, and there was a constant wind, so I decided to stay on his wheel and practice moving in order to let him take the wind for me. I remember back in the team clinic days learning this sweet spot stuff, so I decided to give it a go with someone who didn't know me. He let me ride his ass for about three laps, then he dropped off the course. Dammit, I had to go it alone again. So I decided to practice cornering and picking good lines. It was fun on the race track.

Some people know I am almost always smiling for the camera in races. Notice I am not smiling here. Headwind, loneliness, and a dedication to suffer it out had me going hard. My hands also fell asleep on this bike. Why does that happen?

The biggest shame of it all was that I was lapped twice by the field. Well, the Master's men. I am a non-training Cat-4 woman. So, it was twenty minutes of zone four to zone five heart rate; I think my heart rate monitor hadn't seen numbers like that since I did my max test with a great coach .

Turns out I took third in my category. I guess there were three women out there...

I was disappointed to see so few women racing. There were a ton of them watching, or coming to pick up their men at the end of their races. Chris told me there would be women from UT there. Maybe it wasn't their night or something. Now I know why this woman and this woman work so hard to get women's racing supported and recognized.

All in all, I think it is cool that in Austin they can race all week long after work. I'd like to see some of that around here. I asked someone to organize it, being she is sooo good at these things. A vague smile was her reply. I guess I'd better figure this one out on my own...

Hard Drive Death and Chain Driven Lust

2007-04-12T12:57:00.000-07:00

My hard drive took a vacation on me, and that's why I have virtually disappeared. Some people have blog stalkers and nasty comment leavers, I just have a lack of being prepared. Listen to me good, now, BACK UP EVERYTHING. Did ya' hear that? if you don't already do this, do it now, right now. Avoid the pain of losing you beloved files and then paying a greasy-haired guy with odd social skills too much of your hard-earned dough to fix it and get your life back.

and now for something completely different...

I'm in Texas again, yay! This blogger thing has opened up a world of bike riding possibilities! I rode with Chris. The details and pics are on his blog. We rode over the Colorado River, through some beautiful scenery of the rolling hill country (gorgeous spring time wilflowers included), and I saw a great big dam. The climbs had some intense moments. My ass was kicked. Chris just floats up the climbs.

I rented a bike to ride out here. It is sweet. A Lemond Zurich. Light, responsive, and fast. How sad I will be to return to my old steel wonder...and just when I was about to stop buying bike parts and hence free up my extra cash each month, along comes new bike lust. This is how addiction gets started...

Something else occurred to me while out on this bike, too. Bikes are kind of like lovers, or really, they become the other in a pretty significant relationship. I felt guilty liking this new bike. I felt like I was betraying my custom frame back home, with its beautiful lugs. It has been so faithful to me, you know? But this new carbon bike, God, it got the juices flowing in a way my old bike just can't.

Tonight I am going to a race. Yep, you read that right. I, who do no training, am going to race a Criterium with college girls from UT. After I get past feeling old and silly, I think it will be fun. Especially on this rented bike.

I'll keep you informed, race fans!

The Trade-Off

2007-03-31T08:30:00.000-07:00

Ah, the life of an alternative educator. A week ending in tight shoulders and some amazingly sore abs.

After my back-to-back rides last weekend, I was sooo alive on Monday at work. Something about good times with good friends, you know? I actually got to teach English again for one day (the yearbook takes a month and the whole school participates in it). I felt normal, and like maybe I was going to get some riding in this week. NOOOOO. Silly Me.

Tuesday is a blur, but I know I didn't teach anyone anything. The yearbook had one more day to go...hence, Tuesday night insomnia.

I took the morning off because Wednesday night we had our quarterly family meeting. As well as teaching English and being the resident graphic designer for the yearbook working on ancient computers and a crap network (can anyone tell I'm bitter?), I have a counseling case load of seven young people whom I encourage to succeed, as well as kick their asses when they screw up. I am their parents' main contact, most of whom do not speak English. So, I pull out my broken Spanish, and use my students to translate when I am lost for words. Thank God I understand the kids, so I know they are not telling their parents about anything other than their latest offense to the civilized world.

Family Night is actually fun, except for the fact that it is an 11 hour day. I get to tell the parents how their little former gang-member is now achieving credits, and has learned to walk away from fights. It is strange and wonderful to be a trusted part of a family whose culture is so far removed from my own. Sometimes I step back and realize how strange my little world is. I work in the middle of a poor immigrant population. I serve a community whose existence is both necessary and a political hot button. I learn the survival strategies when one is poor and migrant. The strength of my students still amazes me. I become constantly amazed at the resilience of the human being. Bike racers have nothing on these people.

Thursday we spent the whole day packing. We are moving campuses. I will finally have my own classroom. FINALLY!!! I formerly had a room that every Tomas, Ricardo and Enrique would walk into, looking for the main office, the bathroom, or my boss. Now I have a door with a key. Well, when it is all unpacked. So, Manual Labor Day, deep sleep after work. No rides for me.

Friday we took the kids to a ropes course. I am afraid of heights. No one told me that a staff member had to do everything first, then stand up on a tiny platform nailed to the side of a swaying redwood tree, high above everyone else, and help all of the frightened kids. So, after getting past shaking legs and loss of breath, I learned to live in a tree comfortably. I also climbed up giant staples, walked on cables in the sky, and slid down cables attached to pulleys. Okay, it was fun. Now my forearms are sore, my abs are, too. Still no rides for me.

Last night I cleaned my bike, trying to persuade myself I was going to race today. But, here I am blogging instead. I did, however, arrange for a ride this afternoon with a girlfriend and a guy she's trying to hook me up with. I hear he rides fast and builds furniture. So, in spite of a week with no social life and no ride time, I still have hope. There's always hope.

I have thought often of quitting this job. It wears me out, and my boss is a bit nuts. But the amounts of love and inspiration I get from it are addicting. I cannot imagine taking a job where I am less invested. Not to mention giving up my 12 weeks of vacation a year...

Career switching is still possible. Right now I am focusing on career augmenting.

Deadlines Meet Insomnia

2007-03-28T04:49:00.000-07:00

3:30 am.
yearbook deadline approaches.
my mad boss my time encroaches.
i wish i were a cock-a-roaches.

bad poetry.
hablare espanol esta noche.
another part fell off my coche.
i am going loco-oche.

called a sub.
work from home to get it done.
playing hooky, but not much fun.
rather be riding in the sun.

out of coffee.
go to make it what the f$%^?
i always forget to pick up the stuff.
i need to quit can't get enough.

contract hours.
overtime not in the pay.
think vacation everyday.
it's almost over, so I say:

Otro cafe
por favor.

What a Fun Day!

2007-03-25T19:18:00.000-07:00

Reunited, and it feels so good
Reunited, cause we understood...

Okay, cheesy time over, but today was a day of reunions of sorts. I decided to do the Sea Otter pre-ride ride with my old homie, Gin . I asked him to pick me up from his faraway land of suburban amusements, and off we went down the freeway. Catching up on the haps was awesome. We can talk like two old ladies who went to grade school together. Ah, those were the days...
So, we pull up to the spot and Queen Bella comes out of nowhere, totally incognito.
Almost didn't recognize her, until I saw the posy in her radiant red hair. Apparently Ollie was off to the races, winning the big money to take her out to dinner. She joined our ride, too.
We rode so hard, well, I rode so hard, the rest of them were kind of cruising. Gin had a nice poker face as he tried to play attack-counter attack with Queenie. He failed to consider that she's been training with the best. It was a two Hammer flask day for him.
There were many other lost pals from yore along for the fun, but who knows if they like to be displayed for all the world blog-style.
So, we rode, and rode, and climbed and climbed. I think there was one fun descent, but it's all a blur. Now I remember why I don't race cross-country anymore. What the hell is up with all those granny-gear sections in that course (or is it just me and my spin-to-win mentality?). In the middle of my silent whining period, out of nowhere came Velogirl and her entourage of valiant racers in pink and black. She looked so hot in her Harlot knickers and long pretty ponytail. I didn't get to ride with her, but that's okay - it was still part of my reunited experience.
Hey - that's why I love racing. Because people I love are doing it, and I get to ride with them on their pre-ride days, then run into more of them.
My legs hurt after a record two days of riding in a row (where have my priorities gone?), but I am soooo happy to be back in the saddle, sores and all.

Where Oh Where Has My Little Blog Gone?

2007-03-18T17:18:00.000-07:00

Wow, lots of stuff happening these days. No time to blog, but here's the enthralling highlights of the last week:

I went to school in London in 1987, and discovered the Cornish Pasty. Now I have a pal from Britain living up in Sausalito, and his mom came out to visit him. I was told that she would send me home with homemade pasties if I made an appearance. So, up I went last weekend and got my flaky crusted meat and veggie filled delights: pasties, and a little too drunk in the bargain.
By the way, do British people normally do cheers everytime they drink anything? I arrived at the house. A beer was cracked. "Cheers!" We went to a bar and got a beer. "Cheers!" We sat at the table and water was served. "Cheers!" I went to the bathroom, and beers appeared. "Cheers!" I woke up the next day and a Cappucino was made. "Cheers!" Mum made us a fried breakfast and I had a glass of orange juice. "Cheers!" I am not exaggerating.

So, came home later to a bike racer from New Mexico out for a visit. I let him park his motorhome in my driveway and showed him the pie ride. He was here all week, and what a life this guy has designed for himself. He does freelance writing and indexes books, all remotely. He and his dog drive his motorhome around the country doing stage races and climbing the upgrade ladder. He emails cycling girls near his racing destinations and gets them to take him on rides. We rode 44 miles one day, and Gizdich Ollalie-Apple pie was included. What a lifestyle! Some people really know how to work it. If only I wanted to live in a motorhome...

Finally, I met my new teammates for the 24 Hours of Adrenaline. The Tits of Steel Billy Cross 8 hour team is being resurrected. Two of its founding members have returned. Three have been added. On our bonding ride today I finally conquered all of Mailbox. Why didn't anyone who I ride with ever tell me I've done harder stuff? I've had a mental block against that trail for years. It was cake, I tell ya'! The other good news is that I now have met more cool women to ride with here in Santa Cruz, being that some people got schmoopy and left the area. Others just got too fast for little old me. Anyway, technical skills up, personal demon confronted, and all's better because I have another chance to ride with cool local girls who don't mind a slow climb and a tricky descent. Ahhhh....

So there is it blogger fans. The weather's beautiful, the clocks have changed, and I'm once again having grand adventures!

From Aruba, With Love

2007-03-03T13:30:00.000-08:00

My mom called me from Aruba this morning. This may not seem odd, but I did not grow up with a mom who goes to Aruba. I grew up with a mom who had to shop at discount stores and wisely took advantage of free government cheese after she divorced in the 70's.
My strong and resourceful former struggling single mother of two now plays golf, travels the world, and drives a semi-luxury automobile. My mother has modeled for me a very valuable idea: marry for retirement.
After observing her retirement lifestyle, I have finally opened my eyes to the necessity of being prepared for this coming old age. I have beefed up my retirement savings, become a penny-pincher. She and her husband are having a great time of it.
And here's another thing I've realized: marrying for your retirement years is a very viable option when you haven't made it to the altar yet, and you're in your late 30's.
The dating conditions are pretty bleak out here in late 30's land. Here's the rub: the single guys your age are mostly recently divorced or have been focusing on amassing success. Many in these groups think they deserve a hot number who is at least 10 years younger than them. Funny, sometimes I feel the same way about what I deserve...
My yoga teacher tells me to marry younger because men age faster than women. She suggests seven years or so. Has anyone told the men that? I don't think so, because the majority of guys who look at my on-line profile are in their 50's. Guys my age don't even search for women their age. Don't they know they are going to get old and sick and die way before us? It's kind of rude to expect me to clean out their bedpan and listen to their incoherent babble in my golden years of vitality, don't you think?
So, I cannot plan for this possible future mate, all I can do is tell the 50-plusers to get real when it comes to dating me. But I can plan for retirement. And to marry for retirement.
Here's the logic of it: both of you have time, you've got money, and you're too tired to look for that unrealistic fantasy of the perfect mate. You know the grass isn't any greener over there, and you know how to enjoy the years that are left. The quality of each other's personalities will be what really matters, because the sex-drive is low. Vanity is lost, and only the choice to enjoy each day as much as possible is viable.
Not that any of this is my mom's reality - I am only surmising. I just see that it's working for her... and I really don't see most men coming to their senses any time soon. They still think they rule the world, after all. And they watch way too much porn.

Anyway, having made this decision to marry for retirement has really freed me up to do what I want to do in the mean time. Change careers, start a business, and ride bikes. Stop worrying about aging and dating. These things are a drag. Working toward a different kind of success is not.

So, who knows, maybe in twenty years or so some of you will be getting a call from Aruba...

Oh Happy Day!

2007-02-26T18:28:00.000-08:00

Today it's official - I got the teacher grant for the Academy of Art in San Francisco. This summer I'll be taking fashion design courses at a school that sends some of its students to fashion week in New York every year. Being a polite pest really paid off!

Alas, I won't be doing the hands-on stuff, yet. I have to do the "get to know the industry" and "learn all about the properties of fabrics" foundation work, first. That's okay, it's necessary. I think I get to at least touch fabric samples. Can't wait to touch the dress forms...

Just in case anyone's out there...

2007-02-23T23:12:00.000-08:00

I have a policy - only nicie nicie with the inspiration and positive vibes on the blog.

Mama always said, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all."

Know what? I got cranky sick, cranky at work, and cranky with the other personal shite.

So, I'm not nice right now. Sorry Mama.

But I ain't complainin'....

The Nature of the Beast, a fairy tale

2007-02-16T14:12:00.000-08:00

Prelude:
Teaching traditional high school English was not for me. I wanted to touch lives more, force kids to identify metaphors less.
Don't get me wrong, I love a good metaphor, and I love good books. But somehow casting your pearls before swine for little money and a lot of vacation was not attractive to me. I kept noticing the lost kids, the hurt kids, the arrested kids.
So that's how I got here.

Chapter One:
Kids apply to get in here. Sometimes they are rejected for not being ready. Sometimes they are dropped from the program. Most of the time they re-apply. One of our graduates was dropped four times. The fifth time she made it to a diploma. She passed the high school exit exam. Now she is going to junior college. She has not gotten pregnant, she is not in jail, she has no boyfriend in jail.

Chapter Two:
A kid on probation has a lawyer. We document everything. He is expected to change. He doesn't. He threatens to stab us all. He is dropped. Do I look over my shoulder everyday?

Chapter Three:
Our incredible office manager is on maternity leave. Her replacement is a very beautiful, quiet woman. This morning the replacement found a note, printed in eratic pencil stokes, "Fucken bitch you Better leave this # school your life depends on it." She quit immediately. The staff is working toward identifying the handwriting of the culprit.

Chapter Four:
Today I took our girl's basketball team to play for the Alternative Schools League. I watched these tough girls get their game on, and play their best. They told me about the rival school, filled with members of rival gangs, that they love to play. There is a lot of body contact in those games, they say. Gang rivalries played out in sports, it gets their blood going.

Afterword:
The students I have now, they are the kind that like to feel adrenaline. Some were previously powerless before they found violence. Before they learned to inflict violence on others, many of them were neglected or abused themselves. Growing up around violence, poverty and drug addiction can do that to a kid. Now they are out on the basketball court, playing by the rules, and planning to conquer. It's pretty damn beautiful sometimes. When they made a basket, I found myself yelling, "I love my girls!" And I do. Even though they are so behind socially, they have traveled farther in growth than most people I know.

Will I be stabbed? In this program's fourteen years no one has been.

Sometimes I get so tired. Then they win a game.

Some stuff that makes me happy

2007-02-13T22:53:00.000-08:00

Carrot-orange juice fresh squeezed at the taqueria

Being a kick-ass parallel-parker

Dansko clogs

The ever so difficult to find (but saw one today): men with big butts

My Volvo won't die, no matter what I do to it

My mom

My dad

Being a big dork

Helping lost old ladies in the grocery store

New clothes

Books that blow my mind

India Pale Ale

Walking around on odd days off during the work week and seeing what the world is like when I'm usually at work

HBO series - they kick arse!

Knowing a bunch of good people who help me out for no apparent reason

Clocks changing in April

Mexican food

Italian food

Romance languages

Dogs

Custom bike makers

Anyone who makes a living off of their art

But I'd rather be Catwoman...

2007-02-08T18:09:00.000-08:00

Your results:
You are Supergirl

Supergirl		95%
Spider-Man		85%
Superman		80%
Green Lantern		75%
Wonder Woman		70%
Robin		70%
Hulk		65%
The Flash		60%
Catwoman		60%
Iron Man		60%
Batman		40%

Lean, muscular and feminine.
Honest and a defender of the innocent.

Click here to take the "Which Superhero are you?" quiz...

the English you don't learn in school

2007-02-06T18:13:00.000-08:00

Today's warm-up assignment for the English Language Learners:

Finish this sentence:

When I see a fight I choose ____________________ .

Student response:

When I see a fight I choose to step away a few feet and watch bitches throw down.

Ladeez in da' House

2007-02-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

All winter long I have been finding ladybugs in my bedroom. That seems to be their favorite spot. Sometimes there are like ten of them in my room. I like them. But why are they in here?

Sometimes they make me sad, like when one died because I accidentally stepped on it when I was getting a pair of socks out of my dresser. It left a flat mashed up shell. Pretty exoskeletons are no match for a big bare woman foot.

So, what to do? I think I'll just let them crawl around. Maybe in the spring they'll go back outside. I just hope they stay off of my floor.

Things you cannot know, but should believe

2007-02-03T19:36:00.000-08:00

Real love is constant because it forgives and is forgiven. There is no other way.

Even though it is painful, even though it is not practical, and even though it scares you.

Even though it scares me.

Real love is being caught in the act of being as ass and still being lovable.

To be loved needs loving. Loving needs honesty. Honesty needs courage. Courage needs faith.

Real love is faith.

Real love is seeing the beauty when it’s hidden. Real love is having the beauty return.

Faith over time equals love.

Life and How to Live It

2007-01-25T16:43:00.000-08:00

Last weekend I was talking to someone who is at a crossroads. He was asking for advice on which path to take. Anyone who sees my car and my apartment would probably suggest this wandering soul look elsewhere for enlightenment.

The question brought back a conversation I had with Ms. Bella a while back. I don't recall what we were talking about other than the reasons for doing what you do. I'm sure I had some sort of duty to social justice in my head, and she said something along the lines of, "Or for passion." I remember thinking, "You do all of that work that you do, and you feel passionate?" I always thought that passion was super exciting and fun all of the time. I didn't think it involved emails and databases, mortgages and car payments. I knew for sure that it included riding bikes, and everyone's favorite: sex. Ms. Bella has got the passion, though. What a role model.

But there's so much more, isn't there?

I think I've figured it out, this living passionately thing. It's about choosing what you do, choosing to do it well, and cutting your losses once they're obvious.

One of my co-workers' daughters is very, very ill. He spent a half an hour explaining everything to us. She has a 10% chance of living a year, a lower chance of living until she's five. This guy lives more passionately than anyone I've ever met. There's so much love, joy, and excitement in him, and what's happening to him is unreal. And it is not fair. He talked about having to choose whether or not his baby should get chemo, or to just let her go. He talked about his suffering. And he finished with this, "I am luckier than most parents. I get to know how valuable my family is. I get to know what is important. This suffering has taught me how to live."

He blew my mind. We were crying for his pain, and then he made us feel better.

That's the ultimate in living passionately.

So, what advice did I give to the seeker?

Do what you love, show your children how to live passionately.
Don't live resentfully by working for only security.
Make life happen with as little compromise as you can.

How long do we really have, afterall?

Hmmmm....

2007-01-21T22:02:00.000-08:00

On January 16 the tech guy emailed everyone to tell them the internet was down at work. We all got the email after the internet was back up.

Is it just me?

Commitophobia

2007-01-19T19:28:00.000-08:00

Tired. work can do that. but only when you've been on three weeks of vacation, then, suddenly, life has structure again. It's the damn alarm that I can't get used to.

So, daily writing is a cool idea, but there are too many ideas in my head. Swirling around like crazy, none will be caught and developed.

Sitting leads to sleeping lately.

At least the bikes are getting the QT they deserve.

And old lost novels are being read.

Damn, life is good.

Turns out I'm a Tweener

2007-01-15T08:54:00.000-08:00

I guess I always knew, in the back of my mind, but denial is so powerful. I think some of my friends have known for a while, they just wouldn't tell me - trying to save my feelings, I guess.

I faced it a couple of days ago. Too slow for the fast pack. Too skilled for the slow group. Bumming stuck behind a sketchy wheel while my braver, long-suffering pals zoom away, happy to sustain the hurt while they hug the wheel of a trustworthy ass in front of their face.

Thank God they caught us on the way back - finally, some of them were tired. Finally, I could ride in style for a while, smooth, close, and secure in the confidence of those who know themselves on their bike.

Can't blame the fast people, they've been working at it for a while, and their love is so pure. I am almost jealous enough to train a little, but, then, I know where my true love lies. Climbing up a hill with the pack, I saw a portion of the pavement raised by some geologic force. I shout, "Berm!" and rush to it. It's not as fun on the road bike, and no one else was excited like me. But it did make me lick my chops, my new toy that much closer to being built.

Hug wheels, or learn to fly?

So, I'm a roadie tweener. Life begins again in the dirt.

And yes - that's me! Sweet, eh?

When did I become the Hunchback?

2007-01-11T17:47:00.000-08:00

Back in elementary school only one kid was taller than me - Kevin Connelley. Every picture day we'd line up in order of height, and there we were, in the same order. Kevin, then me. Yep, I'm smack dab in the middle of the top row in everyone of those class pictures. I wonder who Kevin married - do you think it was someone short, or someone tall, like me?

I don't know when I started to slouch, probably about the time I became a junior high school wall-flower. Not only was I tall, but I was big-boned. Not like Cartman. Like a woman. I never got to be small. I never got to wear dittos.

I hate to say it, but the bike has made it worse. I love to ride, but these days I feel like an ape still stuck in my drops long after I'm done with a ride. I think it's either less bike time in the work week, and more yoga, or I need to start shopping for my cane collection.

Ugly Curtains

2007-01-08T20:43:00.000-08:00

I don't understand - how do ugly curtains make my apartment look better from the street?

I spent way too much over the holiday, and NOW my landlord wants me to get curtains. Okay - so I was using sheets because I'd rather build a new bike than buy pretty curtains. I have been accused of being an all-or-nothing gal before, and I guess my decision to put sheets up because I'm too busy buying bike parts to buy nice curtains, but I have to have nice curtains, so I hang sheets until I am willing to buy nice ones, reflects that observation.

So, my landlord takes matters into his own hands, and buys me UGLY curtains. Do they look better from the street? I guess that two sheets of gold separated by a vertical strip of light is superior to one blob of white cotton...

I went to Bed, Bath and Beyond to get some pretty curtains for my bedroom at least. I can't look at ugly curtains in there. Bed is way too important.

Doin' it for the ride

2007-01-05T22:30:00.002-08:00

So many of my friends here in Nor Cal say, "I could never live in Texas." I think they see that giant red blob on an election map and get left coast blind. "I've heard Austin is cool, though," and it is. If it wasn't for the sweet mountain biking trails out here, I'd be moving to Austin. Here's why:

I'm spoiled by love and good cooking when I'm out there. My little niece and nephews say, "Auntie, me like you," (except the five year old whose education has taught him that I is the correct subject pronoun) a few times a day, and we wrestle on their trampoline. My dad takes me shopping like I'm not a grown woman with a salary, and lets me drive his sweet car. Both my sister and my stepmom are awesome cooks.

I could buy two whole houses with big yards out there for the price of a condo out here. At this point, I can only dream of having my own garage.

A man can go to church on Sunday and have lunch at a topless restaurant on Monday, all while carrying a concealed weapon. How free is that?

Road riding down the dog gauntlet of County Road 474 makes you faster. One of those freakin' dogs was still racing me at 25 mph. And they show you their sharp little canines while they chase you. And bark. Loud.

Drive-through Starbucks with employees on the intercom who say "Whoo whee, aren't you a brave one?" when you order the bran muffin, then sing to you before you drive up to the pick-up window only to find that he (she?) looks like Pat from Saturday Night Live when you get there.
True story. Go to the drive-through Starbucks in Temple, see for yourself.

Wide open spaces. Even in the mobile home parks there's lots of yard space around each double-wide. At first I was freaked out driving down the road with a lack of mountains holding me down on the earth, but when I got used to it, I really realized how the Bay Area is a land of sardine packed homes, many large with dinky yards.

Warnings, not speeding tickets. So, daddy's sweet car is so smooth, I didn't notice I was speeding. The State Troopers pulled me over, and I was so sure my California license would send the trooper into fits of throwing the book at the silly liberal (I've seen too many movies about the civil rights era, I guess). He ran my license, then had me sign a warning. I asked him what a warning was, and he said, "You just promised to drive more safely on our highways, ma'am." When was the last time the CHP did that for you?

And besides that, Austin feels like a cowboy's Santa Cruz. So mellow, and ever so Texas friendly. Healthy looking people, lesbian bookstores, fashionable people, a little blue-state paradise in the middle of red-ville.

I'm telling ya', if they only had the sweet mountains, I'd suffer through the 107 degree summer for these perks. But I lust for the sweet dirt of the Santa Cruz mountains. How did Superdownhill Girl stay away for so long? But, you notice, she's back.

Back in Cali

2007-01-03T19:48:00.000-08:00

Just flew in from Tejas, and boy are my arms tired...hardee har har.

Stay tuned for more fantastic tales of wonder and amusement as I get my energy back up. Two weeks with the TWF (Toddler Wrestling Federation) has worn me out.

Ciao Bellas and Bellos!

Where's Wayne?

2006-12-29T10:06:00.000-08:00

Well, he used to be in San Francisco. Now he's in Grapevine, Texas, giving the people of the Dallas area something to smile about.
Yesterday I hopped into Daddy's car, and drove north to visit my good friend, Helen. She has found an awesome guy here in Texas who knows and loves wine.
Thankfully, Tim discovered Into the Glass some time ago, and I got to experience Wayne's fine food and even finer wine. We ate chicken and brie nachos with cranberries and a bit of spice. We also had melt-in-your-mouth steak salad, and a cold grilled chicken salad to die for.
So, a bit of home out here in Texas. Not bad for a red state.

I'd never be able to measure up

2006-12-26T18:03:00.000-08:00

So, that's it, I can never have kids because I could never be the mom my little sis' has become. Here's a glimpse into supermom's capabilities:

Pick sister up from airport. Stop at store.

Return home to help kids and their cousins create their own individual pizzas and decorate cookies. Host kick-ass slumber party. Have Sundae making activity next day.

Take sister shopping for parents. Know every person's size and exactly what to get.

Purchase five gifts in three different stores in under an hour, having trained the five year-old to keep pace while hapless single sister runs behind carrying three year-old.

Meet father and step-mom for lunch, assign seats so each child is flanked by adult. Order prescisely for each child, ensure each is eating while holding adult conversation.

Host Christmas Eve at home. Prepare five dishes for snacking, including an incredible warm artichoke-crab dip. Apologize profusely for not having prepared fresh cookies. Stop to enjoy a cranberry champagne coctail and a special Christmas shot.

Wrap and build Christmas gifts until 2am.

Manage wrapping paper clean-up as kids open gifts. Remove all tape from wrapping paper for proper recycling.

Serve delicious creme brulee french toast for Christmas breakfast, accompanied by mimosas for the adults.

Manage to keep peace among kids who won't share new toys.

Finish clean-up, collapse on the couch and let still hapless single sister dress the two year-old in the five-year-old's jeans.

I am still in awe of my sister. How does she not crack?

Technical Difficulties: Please Stand-by

2006-12-25T18:28:00.000-08:00

Sorry - no photo on this one - I am on DIAL-UP, that's right, out here the fandamily is waiting until wireless DSL moves into the community. It's soon, they say. So, I'm on my sister's old laptop, no access to the FANTASTIC photos of the day I've taken, ergo no witty and interesting descriptions.

I hope my fickle public does not tune out during this temporary set-back to 1972...

Everyday is a school day

2006-12-24T11:26:00.000-08:00

I tell you what, livin' out on the land, deep in the heart of Texas, allows time for learnin'. As we took the kids out for their shootin' practice, we come up on this here cowpie. My sister notes its size (approximately 7" across, and about 4" high). 'Sis says, "Too much protein. When they pile like that, there's an inbalance in the cows' diet. Or is it too much fiber?" After we returned to the house, she took out her cattle-raising handbook to research the answer. How could I ever have learned this in the Santa Cruz mountains?

You'll shoot your eye out!

2006-12-23T15:16:00.000-08:00

Check out the Red Rider BB Gun! You know you're in Texas, now, when eight and five year olds learn gun safety out on the land. They both shot targets with great skill. No animals were accosted, and no eyes were shot out during the making of this photo.

What's your job like?

2006-12-20T18:26:00.000-08:00

Well, mine is so odd. But I love it. I work with kids, some of whom who are known to carry knives, yet we took them carolling for Christmas yesterday, and today we made a Mexican feast and had a fun gift exchange. I received a saucy halter top! Here's some pictures of my kids:
The girls are lounging - notice the boys making guacamole in the background! These ladies did cook a bit, though!

These are my awesome co-workers Louis and Ramon. They're making salad.

Victor and Jose are working so hard. That guacamole was sooo good.

Pedro is such an awesome kid - he also has the hook-up on great DVDs.

Luis composed some music, and then he cooked almost all of the carne asada for our feast.

This is Antonio (and a BAD picture of me). He's one of my advisees, and this is his usual facial expression. He's actually started to laugh lately. It's pretty cool. It's not all fun and games, though. He told me he hates me (it's all that obnoxious help I give him and the way I try to keep him out of trouble). I just tell him, "Well, I love you," then he laughs. I think he does actually appreciate me. If not, well, at least I get paid.

Yuli and Lilly are a couple of my brightest and funniest students. They made a sauce with chilis and tomatillos.

And for the record, I teach these kids to read better, write better, and live better most of the time. But the holidays are really fun at work.

Okay, I'm jealous!

2006-12-18T20:48:00.000-08:00

Last year I could not help it. The fandamily said no blog, and I gave in. You see, I'm acutely aware that it's too late to give in to a marriage of convenience, meaning, for money. My family is all I will ever have if, gulp, tragedy strikes. So, I listen to them, like a sucka' lemming. But, all of you are having some fun, and I want some, too! So, take this, overbearing familial sorts, I'm blogging again!

P.S. Please don't tell my mom.