All I'm Saying there's a joke in here somewhere

I had quite the interesting afternoon. It all started when I decided to ride my new bike to work. You know, get some exercise, save the environment from my carbon-belching newer Toyota (joke)... I live about 3.5 miles from my office, and the traffic along the drive is pretty busy. However, we live just a hop and a skip from the New York Canal, which is an irrigation canal with a nice two-track road along it that is closed to motor vehicles. Since we had put Slime in the tires to keep the goatheads (read: world's most deadly sticker-burrs) out of my tires, I figured it was a good plan. Well.

I took off down the canal, but all-too-soon came to a closed section of the road, which forced me to get on one of the main streets. It so happened that this street (Orchard, near the airport) doesn't have much to speak of in the way of a shoulder. I hugged the fog line as close as I could, and tried not to weep with terror as 18-wheel dump trucks whooshed by. As I got to a traffic signal, I thought maybe I might have a flat tire. I got off at the light, pushed on the tire but couldn't feel anything, and hopped back on for the home stretch--the last mile to my office. The going was a little easier there, but I was thoroughly pooped. Isn't that an awful sign of what terrible shape I am in? But really, I haven't ridden a bike with any level of intensity since I was about 12 years old, plus I was trying to go as fast as I could to get to work.

I got to the last 100 yards. I could see the gate leading into my office area. But I realized my rear tire was indeed going flat. Really flat. I had to dismount and push the bike through the gate.

I dragged my wheezing body and beet-red face up the stairs to my office. I flung myself down in my chair, unstrapped my helmet, and dug out the new fish flakes I got to feed my office betta fish, Abe, who has not seemed particularly peppy lately. I peered into the tank, and there he was. Dead as a...well, he was dead as a mackerel. He must have died early in the weekend, as he wasn't even floating. He was just a corpse on the rocks at the bottom. I truly feel terrible about it. The guy at PetCo who was counseling me on fish selection said a betta would be perfect, as they were virtually impossible to kill and could go for days on end without food.

Poor Abe. Rest in peace, my little blue buddy.

Really, it was quite the crappy sequence of events. But once I get my tires fixed, I'll be riding to work again, albeit on another route. And I'm not done killing raising fish--I want to go get a new Abe and try harder this time.

Well, the in-laws have headed back to Wisconsin, to my great relief. I was extremely stressed out the first few days of their visit. I think it was just getting used to having someone else in the house--someone I have not always had the greatest relationship with, and I think I psyche myself into expecting greater drama and hassle than we actually end up getting. Anyway, here's the last week in review:

Early on, I finally let Matt talk me into getting a bike. I had resisted it for a long time, because every bike I have ridden in the last 15+ years has seemed very, very uncomfortable to me. There's the standard fanny ache from those godawful seats, and something about leaning over handlebars hurts my neck. Well, the new bike does neither of those things. It's a cruiser, and it is so comfortable. I am really excited about the prospect of riding it to work a couple of times a week, since I have a pretty easy ride that I can do in about 20 minutes each way.

Throughout the week, we put our elderly slave laborers to use by making them build our garden beds. I decided we needed to grow vegetables this year, and so we read up on Square Foot Gardening and built 3 4' x 4' beds in our backyard. I have planted tomatoes, peppers, fennel, 12 different basil plants (because I firmly believe you cannot have too much basil), thyme, rosemary, carrots, radishes, mint, chives, 3 different kinds of onions, patty pan squash, rhubarb, watermelon and then we are also trying to grow Yukon Gold potatoes in a wine barrel. All in all, an interesting experiment. Perhaps the most unusual aspect of our garden is the fact that we noticed the baby plants were getting really wilted in the intense sunlight yesterday, and I decided that Matt needed to weed through his LP record collection and give me some cast-offs to use as shade structures. Our tender veggies are now shaded by such greats as Jethro Tull, The Breakfast Club soundtrack, Traffic's Greatest Hits, and the Vision Quest soundtrack. Innovative, at the very least.

We took Freya to the zoo last Tuesday afternoon. We finally ponied up and bought a zoo membership, and now Matt and Freya can spend their Monday afternoons (which is the time of week he takes off to spend with her one-on-one) with all the other stay-at-home parents. While we were there, we got to see one of the tigers run across its compound and dive into the little pond there to try and savage a mallard that had picked the wrong place to go for a swim. Cool!

A coworker of mine is raising pigs for a bunch of us at the office. (It is a hobby, I guess.) This fall, we expect to have lots of tasty fresh bacon, ham and chops. In the meantime, our little piggie is really cute and we took Freya to go meet him. She showed him her tummy--it is her way of saying, "How do you do?"

We haven't figured out what to call our piggie yet. But I do think it needs a good name. I will take suggestions! "Dubya" was the first thing that came to mind. And while it may seem harsh to make pals with something you plan to enjoy on the dinner table, I do think it is important for Freya to really understand where food comes from--which is also part of the reason we're trying our hands at gardening.

We also participated in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica yesterday. All together, we raised $290, which is really, really great. Thank you again to our sponsors!

So that's roughly my week in a nutshell. (How did I get in this bloody big nutshell?) The in-laws flew home this morning, and I think life will return to what we call normal around here. I will miss that slave labor, though...

Dear Internet:

I am being held captive by my hostessing duties. Please send paratroopers to my rescue.

Casey

P.S. The in-laws are heading home Sunday. Will not need the paratroopers beyond that, but if they are cute, please send them anyway.

First, I need to say that I think it is wonderful that my in-laws make such an effort to get to know Freya. They have been flying out here from Wisconsin about once every 6 months since Freya was born. It is a big deal to me that Freya gets to know them--they're in their late 70s/early 80s, and I know their time with one another is finite. I am grateful that they love my daughter enough to make such a sacrifice of time and money.

That said, they stay for a really long time, and I am not necessarily the most generous hostess in terms of having my personal space occupied. And...they're really pretty awful to one another, which I think I have mentioned here before. He contradicts every utterance she makes, which is dreadful, but she also gets really passive/aggressive and baits him into it.

Matt and I are trying to give one another "breaks," and I got to go to yoga class today. At the end of class, our instructor leaves us with a quote. Today's was from George C. Scott, who said, "The human spirit is stronger than anything that can happen to it." My immediate thought was, "George C. Scott never lived with my in-laws for 10 days."

Well, we're waiting. Waiting to find out if Freya has chicken pox. Our caregiver's son broke out in spots this weekend, after catching them from the neighbor kids. As near as I can tell, scientifically speaking, in the most accurate terms possible, Freya may or may not get them. The timeframes work out that she's got a halfway decent chance of not getting them, but God only knows.

I really do want her to get chicken pox naturally, and just want to skip the vaccine all together. It's just that Matt's parents are coming for a visit starting Thursday and I worry that we'll all be cooped up in the house together with a sick baby.

I dunno...I guess you get what you get, right?

Well, I had a little run-in with the law this evening...actually, that's not quite true. The law had a little run-in with me.

I was turning in to our subdivision from getting groceries, when I noticed some douche-bag on a dirt bike riding along the landscaped creek that divides our subdivision in half. He rode right through a freshly landscaped and seeded area, then turned and rode up a sidewalk. Then he barrelled out on the main road, and I watched him ride along an irrigation canal road that is clearly posted as closed to motor vehicles. A few minutes later, he rode back into the subdivision and into a garage at a house down the street from us.

I'm going to interrupt the narrative to say I have absolutely HAD IT with dirt bikes and ATVs around my house. There's a whole open space area owned by the city on the other side of our backyard fence, and every zipper-head in the area thinks it is fair game to ride in, despite the fact that there are No Motor Vehicle signs everywhere. I've started calling the county sheriff's office every single time I see someone out there.

I then gathered Freya up in my arms (nice, with the toddler, great idea, right?) and stomped down to the house. I asked the kid his name, asked him if he had been operating the dirt bike, and then I let him have it. I know I dropped the F-bomb at least twice, and used a bunch of other colorful language. (Again, with the toddler.) The kid, who was actually in his 20s, said something like, "God, you could have been nice and just asked me to stop," and I said it wasn't about being nice and he'd clearly never read a motor vehicle regulation in his life. I then told him I was calling the sheriff's office and we'd go from there. I stomped back up the street, called the dispatch office, and a deputy showed up about a half-hour later.

I told him the story while sitting in our living room amid piles of clean, folded laundry. At one point, I looked over and, swear to God, Freya was pulling a pair of my underwear over her head. (Did I mention the cop was kind of cute?) He tactfully didn't comment on the toddler with the Victoria's Secret hat.

He ended up going down and talking to the kid, and I guess the kid almost started crying when the deputy explained that he'd violated at least 3 laws, maybe more. But the deputy and I had already discussed that any violations would likely go to court and it would be the kid's word against mine. Of course, the kid didn't know that. So he now is afraid of me. And I'm sure he thinks I'm a bitch. But I guarantee you that's the last time I'll be hearing that dirt bike behind my house...

As I mentioned in yesterday's post, Freya and I are participating in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica. For those who are willing to sponsor us, I will write a custom haiku! Is there a better deal on the internet, I ask you? Without further ado...

Here's one for Donna, a generous supporter:
Donna, Friend of Spuds
Bridgit is her tater tot
You want fries with that?

And for Janice, the younger sister of my best friend from high school (JJ, I know you won't remember this, but Grandma Jan took us all to the Fair when you were really little and you and I shared some quality time in the petting zoo.)
I took you on the
Pony rides at the State Fair,
Janice Genoa.

And finally, I *think* this person is Badger, but I am not positive, and I just apologize all over the place for not being sure. Enlighten me?
I feel so badly
I have no mental picture.
Who is Laura Wolf?

There you have it, folks. Custom haikus for charity! If you'd like to be in the spotlight, please visit my race homepage and leave a donation. Has anyone written a poem about you since that scary kid in high school? I didn't think so--let's replace that with a good memory, shall we?

Freya and I are participating in the March of Dimes WalkAmerica on April 28th. March of Dimes is a wonderful organization that I really believe in: they provide pre-birth education to expectant families, give tremendous support to parents of premature infants, and they help fund research efforts to prevent future premature births. Really, they help the littlest, most defenseless section of our society.

I would appreciate it tremendously if you would sponsor us to help out in this worthy effort. We are trying hard to teach Freya from a very early age that it is each person's responsibility to help save the world, one small step at a time.

Additionally, if you sponsor us, I'll write a haiku about you and post it here. C'mon, you know you want a haiku!

It has been damn windy here the last couple of weeks. I feel bad for all the people who buy those nice, portable gazebo things and then have their cover torn to shreds within the first week. Wisely, we bought one a couple years ago, anchored it to our back patio with concrete screws, and we leave the cover off it until summer is well established. There is a fancy house down the road from us, and their new gazebo blew right into their swimming pool over spring break.

I hate the wind. When I was little, the window in my bedroom didn't close quite right, and the wind would moan throught the crack and frighten me.

What about you all? What's your least favorite meteorological event/force of nature?

Dear Bunny,

You're getting to be such a kid! I see my little baby in you still, but there are more and more glimpses of Freya the Kid coming through.

We took you on an overnight camping trip to Bruneau Dunes State Park with your grandpa this weekend.

You weren't quite sure what to make of the sand. It was very hot to the touch, so while the texture fascinated you, you didn't want to plunge your hands into it. You liked wandering around in it, and we all ended up with sand in our shoes. Your grandfather is entirely smitten with you--he has been since your birth, but you're warming up to him and including him more as a member of your family now, as opposed to "That weird guy who comes over once a week."

Your vocabulary is out of this world. You now say words like: animal (seriously, 3 syllables!), birdie, bear, up, car and wow. When you say wow, it is more like, "Whoooa, wow!" There is definitely an air of astonishment.

Your cuspids may be on their way. The last few nights have been pretty rough, and we're not sure what else to chalk it up to besides teething. You're growing in size, but you're still mighty little compared to other one year olds. Good thing I don't compare you, huh? Really, you're perfect.

All my love,
Momma

Tonight's post has two issues.

I came home from work today and picked Freya up at the neighbor's house. Recall, if you will, that Freya has been staying with this neighbor for the last 9 months and they're very close. Also remember that the neighbor nearly moved to Oregon, sending me into a tailspin of despair worrying over who was going to take care of my baby. And then they decided to stay. So tonight she told me that she's going to bow out of taking care of Freya come August when her son starts kindergarten. I really did expect this, but it doesn't lessen the blow. I'm traumatized.

So what did I do? I packed Freya up (because Matt is working late) and went to a nearby drive-in and drowned my sorrows in a chocolate shake, a bacon mushroom cheeseburger and an order of fries. I sort of hate myself for being a comfort eater, but it helps. I really think it helps. I feel better now. And I shared the milkshake with Freya.

Sigh...

A girlfriend and I usually go to a weight-lifting exercise class on Sunday mornings. Today's class was a little frustrating. There is a group of women who religiously attend not only this class, but the one before it and the one right after it, so they are there for 3 solid hours. Bully for them, right?

These women might be friends of the instructor, but I can't quite tell. They certainly act toward her like they're her best friends--they make jokes and always have a ton of running commentary. It isn't really that bad, but they got on my nerves today. It started at the beginning of class, when we were doing some step aerobics to warm up. During some of the moves, one woman said, "I've already done these," and sat down on her bench. This prompted a couple others to do the same. Nevermind that most of the rest of the class hadn't done the moves--it was enough for these bitches that they had, and they didn't wanna do it anymore. Then, toward the end of class, we started doing the abdominal work. I have noticed that this is the time most of those women start getting up and moving their step benches and putting their weights away. I think they're allergic to ab work. So there we were, trying to do our Pilates-style exercises which involved being sprawled out over the floor, and had these women walking around us, hauling their weights over the top of us, and generally being a huge concentration breaker. But you know, they gotta be ready for yoga class, right?

I don't know how to effectively complain. I really like this particular instructor, and don't want to get on her bad side. Any suggestions? At one point, the instructor came to the back of the room (which is away from where these other women usually are) and I was tempted to say, "Come on back--we smell worse than the ladies up front, but that's because we're working harder and talking less."