April, Come She Will, When Streams are Ripe and Filled Wtih Rain

I don't have a lot of pictures to add to this post, so you all get to see Gus again. Hi, Gus!

 Oh, kids. It's that weird time of year. You know, the ass-end of Winter, where it feels like warm temps will never come, and then we got our first fake Spring last weekend. If you have ever lived in the Midwest, you'll know that a fake Spring is when it all the sudden warms up, sometimes 50 degrees in about a day. Everyone goes crazy and gets outside, and the college kids who normally wear flip flops on the coldest days of Winter, are practically wearing swimsuits. It feels like it's finally done being cold and snowing. Then a day later there's some weird rain that turns into ice, and then into snow, and the temperature drops another 50 or 60 degrees, and everyone cries.

Well, this week looks like it will be our second fake Spring, for maybe an entire week!!!!!!!!!! I can't tell you how excited I am about it...Or maybe those 500 exclamation points just did. 

I am trying to be better about so many things right now. I'm trying to be a kinder person, who doesn't get annoyed so easily. Wish me luck with that one! I'm also trying to eat less food, and better food. I'm trying not to eat in between meals and be more mindful when I do eat, instead of devouring my food, barely tasting it, possibly biting my cheek, and then not giving myself a chance to see if I'm starting to get full, before I serve myself up some more. 

We''ll see how that goes. Also, I'm trying to drink less alcohol. I've never been a big drinker, The migraines have always helped me remember why I can't drink more than a beer or two at a time, but I can get into this habit of just having a beer after work, just one, but if I drink a beer everyday, that's seven drinks a week, and that starts to add  up. Now, I'm cutting way back. I'll still have a drink here or there, but I hopefully won't get in that bad habit of drinking a beer most days of the week. I'm not sure if cutting down will help or hurt my other goal of being a kinder (more kind?) person. I guess poor John will let me know.

The other thing I'm trying to do is work-out more. For most of my adult life, I ran six miles almost every day. Now, with this stupid perimenopause, my body isn't letting me run like it used to. I'm still trying to run, but a lot of times, I can walk a little, run a little, walk a little more, and so on. ANNNNNDDD, I can only do that for about two miles. I'm still hoping that the worst of this will go away once I'm actually in menopause. I finally figured out my almost constant migraine situation last Fall, and that has helped me be able to run, and ride, and cross country ski, and stuff more often this year. Thank the lard! With the first fake Spring a week ago, I got all motivated and did my little run/walk thing four times that week, I also rode my bike on the road, outside, for the first time this year, and weirdest of all...I swam laps for the first time in two years last Saturday. It felt strange to actually work my upper body for a change. We rode our bikes outside today too. Since I'm not in the best shape of my life, we just rode down Sand Road, which is almost completely flat. That's my kind of road!

So, tomorrow starts our second fake Spring of 2022. I am all goofy and hopeful at the prospect, but it will be a few months yet before I put away my Winter things, It's snowed her in May before. I'm just going to sit around drinking many glasses of water, and not drinking very many alcoholic beverages, or eating many delicious snacks. Do you think I'll get used to it and not crave cookies and ice cream any more? If you think I still will, feel free to lie to me. Like I always say, I'm a sucker for false hope.

Mama Said There'll Be Days Like This, There'll be Days LIke This, My Mama Said

This is my mom, my oldest sister, and my mom's amazingly drawn-in eyebrows, when we lived in Scottsdale in the late 1960's.

 Well, Valentine's Day would have been my mom's 90th birthday. I can't imagine what she would have looked like as an old woman. She died when she was 43, and I was 10. Her death when I was so young, and everything that came after it, was probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me. I always say, I was lucky to have her even just for those ten years. Here are some of the wisdom that I carry with me all of these years later:

I was a mama's girl. Clearly. I was a pain in the ass, overly sensitive, hyper spaz, and my mom was so patient and sweet to me. She would say things like, "Here. Let me do it. That way if it's not done right, I won't have anyone to blame but myself." It had never occurred to me that my mom could make mistakes before she said that. I had never met an adult who admitted that they were fallible before. I just thought I was the only one who messed everything up. 

She also made sense of unrequited love for me. I told her I was in love with Brian Chapman. He was sooo cute, and all of the other girls liked him too, but he didn't like me back. She told me that she used to love a boy in grade school and he didn't love her back. She said he was so cute when they were kids, but then she went to a grade school class reunion when she was older, and he was fat and bald and even worse, so booooorrrrring. and she was glad he hadn't liked her. She made it seem like Brian was doing me a favor by not liking me back.

When we lived in Arizona among many Mormons, one of my friends invited me to what they called Primary. It's when their family sits around and talks about their religion. We were Catholic, and they took every opportunity to let us know how bad that was, and to try and recruit us to Mormonism. I just wanted to hang out with my friends, so I said, "sure". I came home in tears that night and told my mom, "They said when we died, all the Catholics were going to this layer just above hell, like purgatory. We would be with Black people and Jewish people too," My mom told me that it sounded great. We'd be in good company.She could always turn things around for me against the negativity of the world.

There are many, many, days where I wish I could tell her something that made me feel bad, so she could turn it around for me. Now, I have to do it for myself. At least I was lucky to learn how to do it from a pro.

Let's Talk About Poop, Baby, Let's Talk About You and Me

 Well, Valentine's Day is upon us, and what better way to celebrate it, then talking about poop? That's right. I had my first colonoscopy last Thursday. I know, I know. I should have had one years ago, but I was doing these guaiac cards once a year instead. If something tested wrong with the poop smudged cards I sent in THEN they would make me do a colonoscopy.

They never came back bad, but about a year ago, I ran into one of my daughter's grade school friend's dad at the store. Got that? Sadly, he was dying of prostate cancer, and we were talking about preventative tests, and I happened to mention about my doing the guaiac cards instead of the colonoscopy. (because these are the type of things that totally NORMAL people talk about when they're casually shopping and run into a friend, right?) He gave me a little lecture about how important it is to do the REAL test, and he was right. 

Sooooo, at 56 I had my first colonoscopy. Like everyone told me, the prep was the worst part. A week before the procedure, you're supposed to only eat meat and white bread and pasta, and cheese, and very little of what I normally eat like veggies and whole grains and beans. I'm not sure why they want to stop people up for a week before they let everything explode out of them. Maybe it's for dramatic effect? Also, I was allowed to have ice cream, and I figured since everything was going to go right through me the next day, I made sure to get some Ben and Jerry's the night before I had to fast. It was absolutely guilt free.

The day before the procedure I had to fast and they had me start taking a laxative at noon. Then at four I had to take more laxatives, and then at six they wanted me to start drinking EIGHT WHOLE GLASSES of the Golytely shit. It wouldn't be horrible if you had to drink a glass or two, but eight? JAYSUS! It had this weird, vague, salty/fishy taste to it. After the first three glasses, I decided to add a little dash of Squirt soda to it. I didn't want to have to drink more than the eight glasses, so I didn't add a ton, just enough to take the fishy edge off of it, and keep me from puking it all up.

Needless to say, the Golytely and laxatives did their jobs, and I might have to rewatch "Nightmare Alley", because I had to keep pausing it and running to the bathroom, and then "Where were we?" and then like that there for about two hours. Poor John.

At nine, and then at ten, they told me to take a couple of Gas-X tablets before bed. The next morning, I had to do the Golytely bit again, and all this time not eating for two days. I did spend a considerable amount to time fantasizing about what I would eat the minute after the procedure was over.

The nurses and doctor were all very nice. I warned the nurse that I have bad rolling veins, and that she needed to really hold them down, but she spent a lot of time digging around in my arm anyway and said, "Yer not kidding!" I used to do phlebotomy, so I get it, and if that's the worst thing that happens to you during a procedure (which it was) than you're pretty damn lucky. (which I was)

John came with and went next door to 30HOP for lunch and a beer while I was busy having someone stick a camera up my butt. He made it back to the recovery room, just as they were wheeling me in. Perfect timing! The doctor came in and said everything was fine and there were no polyps or other problems and I wouldn't have to have another one for ten years. Thank Jeebus!

I felt a little dizzy afterward, but not much worse than normal. We decided to go to Los Agaves for a late lunch for me, and since my stomach was very small, I wasn't able to eat very much, but it still tasted pretty damn lovely.

So, if that all wasn't the most romantic prelude to Valentine's Day, I don't know what would be. It had all the sexiness of backless hospital gowns, uncontrollable pooping, and reminders of impending old age. I'm not sure what John and I can do to top that next year. Maybe I'll let him sit in on my next mammogram?

Summer is Gone, But Our Love Will Remain, Like Old Bicycles, Out in the Rain

Okay. So, where was I? Oh, yeah. Last Saturday, my cold was getting better, but I woke up with a migraine. Wah!

I took my migraine meds (Zomig) and they worked just fine. By the time we got to the race venue, my brain pain was all but gone, and I was surprised at how much energy I had.

Cyclocross is always a fun spectacle, and the world championships brought out the costumes and cow bells in full force.

To me, the women's races are way more exciting than the men's, and this competition was no exception. There was a race to the sprint for first and second, and the third and fourth place racers battled until the very end too in the Women's Championships.

The biggest problem for me with the race was the food and drink situation. You weren't supposed to bring any food or water in with you, and they made you wait sometimes an hour and a half to stand in line for a bottle of water. Also, it was sixty degrees on Sunday, and for us Northerners, that was a LOT to get acclimated to, so dehydration was definitely possible. So dangerous. So dumb.

The food there was another shit show. Again, we missed watching an entire race, so we could stand in line for an hour, and they had about five options available. All were gross, fried food. The only thing I could eat there, because I don't eat beef or pork, and I don't like mushrooms, was this greasy cheese fries concoction with a mess of chicken and cheese. I ate about half of it, before it made me sick.

I don't know who plans a bike race without plenty of different kinds of beer? On Saturday they had an IPA, but I guess Miller Lite was their sponsor, and on Sunday that was the only kind of beer we could find. Have you ever tasted Lite beer? It felt like we were transported back to the 80's. Fayetteville, you could have don SOOOO much better.

Like most people we knew, we snuck food in on Sunday. Believe me, no one wants to be around me when I haven't eaten all day. We did that race venue a favor by ordering an extra pizza for leftovers, and hiding it in our bag on Sunday.

On Sunday one of my favorite riders was racing in the Under 23 women's race. Puck is amazing, but she kept getting 2nd in all of the big Under 23 races this season, and I was REALLY hoping she would win.

Lucky for me...And her too, I suppose, she pulled it out in another sprint finish. I was so happy. She is such an incredible bike handler.

Since I was feeling a little better, John and I went to ride on the mountain bike trails in Bentonville after the races were over. We were staying at a place just across the street, so it was easy to just pedal over.

These trails are amazing and abundant. They are made with Walmart money. I wish Walmart would pay their workers better, AND make cool trails.

I am not the bravest mountain biker, but there were plenty of green trails, and any trail we rode on was super scenic.

Since I still wasn't feeling 100 percent, John did a lot of riding ahead and waiting for me. Riding ahead, and waiting for me. I'm sure he's used to it by now.

I really do love it when people put art on the mountain bike trails. It makes the experience even more fun and photogenic.

We spent our last night in Arkansas eating Torchy's tacos. I love their food. We went to our first Torchy's in Austin, and then the last time we were in Arkansas, we found out they were a franchise. There are two in the Fayetteville/Bentonville area. We took full advanatage.

 So, after our long anniversary weekend adventure where it was warm enough to even see a butterfly at the end of January, we returned home to the cold, and our cats. The cats were happy to see us, but sad that they didn't get to free feed dry food all day anymore Too bad for them!