suns out guns out

Welp I don’t want to jinx it or anything but I think that spring may be starting to spring. Of course, now that I have said this out loud mother nature is going to recant the sunshine and send us back three spaces to snow.

I have been watching the weather like a hawk.  2 weeks ago, I made the comment to someone at work that there was no longer snow in the gutters which meant that I could finally go cycling. No sooner had that thought process escaped my lips did it start snowing. I was more than a little upset but continued to fix my bird eyes on the goal waiting and praying. This week the clouds parted and the old mercury stick showed a balmy 46 which I jumped at. I quickly called Kate and we both dusted off the old cycling shoes, threw some air in the tires and clipped in as fast as we could.

Honestly the sound of shoes clicking into place was one of the sweetest sounds I have ever heard and the whole first mile of our ride there was much happy screeching and fast pedaling. We went out with the intention of doing a 7-mile loop given that it was still not exactly perfect weather, we haven’t cycled in 5 months, and there is still a ton of gravel strewn about the roads in the country in the name of slick road prevention. We came to the fork in the road where we can turn left and venture further into no man’s land or turn right and head back into civilization. I asked Kate which way we were heading and she confidently announced that left was fine by her. We decided that we would cycle down to the river bottoms where the great crash of 2018 took place then head back in. What we forgot was that to get to the river bottoms is a 10-mile ride.

 We got to our spot and turned and that is when I felt the consequences of our decision settle in. We had luckily taken water because Kate is clever even though I figured we wouldn’t need it for such a short ride. Turns out I needed it a mere 2 miles in because my mouth was gaping open like a happy canine for the entirety of ride which makes a human mighty parched. What we didn’t take was any sort of nutrition and suddenly my legs were as heavy as though I was wearing cement shoes. I mentioned this to Kate who said oh I have some gels do you want some? I don’t particularly care for gels where as they have the exact same texture as scooping some Vaseline out of the container and I might argue the same flavor. I however was in no position to be choosy about such things and agreed to share one with her knowing full well my water levels were too low to try to wash an entire packet from my gob. It was only after I sucked it passed my beaver teeth that I realized they were from LAST season and were cast off flavors her brother had given her because the bike shop where he works can’t even convince people to purchase them. I made all sorts of heavenly bargains to actually swallow it and then my body being the jerk that it is decided that heavy legs were not a good enough reason to ingest such swill. I immediately started doing the back of mouth pukes. The kind where the offense item in question is not expelled but rather your flesh burns from the bile that leaked out in a half way attempt to clear the road. The bile in turn caused wicked heartburn and a flavor that again could not be washed out because I had a single water bottle not the 2 I needed so along I rode with heavy legs, a burning throat and heat from heartburn that could warm the souls of even the most black soul. I thought that eventually I would get my second wind but my body just laughed and laughed at that notion. By mile 16 I was so ready to be out of the saddle and I stood up to allow blood to flow to my sore extremities. It was a religious experience whereas I immediately knew my legs couldn’t hold me and I felt Lola swerve and I silently screamed out help me Jebus knowing I wouldn’t have the strength to unclip in time to prevent myself from becoming street meat.  I guess my prayers were answered because I didn’t die which was just a little sad since I knew I had more miles to go.

The next 4 miles ticked along and I knew that when it was time to turn for home that my inner endurance athlete wouldn’t allow me to leave the extra half mile on the table so with all that I had I continued to pedal so that we could round it out to 20. As we got to the stop sign in front of my house, I had Kate call the mileage and was mortified to hear 20.5 which meant we circled the block to get 21. We had accidently gone an additional 14 miles. Swinging my leg off the bike was tricky but the endorphins quelled the urge to black out. My boys brought oranges and blueberries as the lights danced in my head and suddenly all the leg fatigue and heartburn in the world didn’t hold a candle to the joy that is the first ride of the season.

I would like to pretend that my life is a fairy tale and that was the end of the story. Thing 2 reminded me that he had an all-area concert that night which meant my now sore body had to sit on bleachers at the middle school for 2 and a half hours! Today my tailbone is asking for a new home and my hip flexors have submitted their request for a weeks’ vacation. Jokes on them for tomorrow we ride again!

Who let the dogs out

Life continues to move along here in the frozen tundra. I have given up hope that words like spring, grass and sunshine actually mean anything given that all I see is dead, snow, and dirty heaps. For a moment there was a little bit of hope. In fact, it rained and exposed nearly 2 feet of dead grass covered in snow mold. But then mother nature wanted to make sure that we all knew exactly who was boss and it dumped 6 inches in one day shortly thereafter. This has become the new pattern. Wind and rain to carve out a little meltage followed promptly by a replacement snow.  It is getting really old really fast. Then I remembered that we are simply in second winter. I keep flapping my gums about second winter in the off season and everybody looks at me like I am a loon. Look whose is laughing now! In case you are wondering it is not me. We are in second winter for Pete’s sake. 

Things are getting serious though. The other day I took the wonder pup on a walk and I couldn’t figure out what was so different about the road we were on. It is a road in my subdivision and so I travel it with great regularity. I had to ponder on it for a moment. I thought that a tree had been ripped out, a house torn down or some other construction project. Much to my horror I realized that what was missing was the 14-foot snow pile that had been pushed there all winter long. It had melted or been pushed to some other location. Before you think that I have taken crazy pills I would like to inform you that there was a guy one street over in a bobcat pulling the snow berms from the front of his house out into the road and squishing them so as to expedite their melting process. This is how desperate we have all become. But perhaps no one is more desperate than I to see grass.

Simon has taken a great aversion to going outside to relieve himself. He was born in October and has never actually seen grass. I have been informed by the interwebs that going on grass in is an innate desire in dogs but I can’t confirm this due to our lack of said green stuff.  All he knows is that when his paws get cold it must be the spot to go. The boys are insistent that they take him into the basement which has epoxy that is, you guessed it, cold so if he wanders down to check out the latest smash bros session he will most likely have himself a little pit stop. The other day I was sitting in my office when I noticed that it smelled a little off. Much to my horror I looked over and spied with my little eyes a giant steaming dog poop. I got up and went upstairs to get the carpet cleaner and when I rounded the corner spied with my little eyes a second dog poop. If I was upset about the first one, I was angry about the second. I reminded myself that he is a puppy and can’t use people words and went about fetching my chemicals. He had stepped in one of his poops and walked it up the stairs so I knelt down to scrub it out. In case there was not enough fecal matter I went ahead and knelt smack dab in the center of a whiz puddle. It was enough to send me into a tizzy. I cleaned it up, went to the office to clean up the first mess and that is when I noticed that there were several dried pee stains throughout the living room floor. OF COURSE THERE WERE BECAUSE I LIVE WITH BOYS! I also noticed that both the things had cozied up in various parts of the basement and there were dirty socks, unmade guest beds, and stains on the carpets in the bedrooms. I stormed through the basement with a soaking went whiz knee picking up what felt like the aftermath of a drunken squirrel party all the while writing a fiery dissertation to my human offspring about the ramifications that were soon to follow. 

Naturally they were at the temple doing baptisms for the dead, prolly cuz Jesus knew this was the only thing that would save them so my strongly worded convictions had no ears to fall upon.

I decided that the root of all of my problems was the stupid Nintendo switch so with all my hulk smash strength I moved the entertainment center and removed all of its guts from the T.V.  put it in a box and hid it.  I then waited, stroking a hairless cat I borrowed in a chair for the victims to arrive. (okay that part is a lie but holy crap can you imagine if I had managed to pull that off?!?) I informed them when they returned that not only was the switch gone, but they were no longer welcome in my basement. The weeping and wailing that ensued was pretty intense but only fueled my angry fire. If their father had taken it away, he would have caved after two days.  My uterus gives me the ability to harness my anger and stay laser focused on doling out punishment so I did not. I have successfully used this learning moment to have them clean the basement, their bedrooms, and the playroom. I was still not ready to relinquish the basement back but I got duped.

Apparently, my son who is in the teacher’s quorum presidency planned an activity revolving around the stupid gaming system pre-maternal freak-out. I have had to dig the thing out for a one-day time out on the punishment and allow 8 stinky teenagers to come into my basement. Well played Karma well played. So help me Jebus, if I go downstairs and found additional weedle stains no amount of deity induced grace will save them!

So to sum it up, I need grass for my pupper, a fumigating machine for my basement after the 8 teenagers evacuate it this evening, and a rental agency that will loan me a hairless cat for my future endeavors.