31 May 2019

I am slow, but I get there...

I set a goal this year to hit 2000 miles.

This morning I realized I was 20 short to hit the halfway mark by June 1. I'd have probably been there a couple weeks ago if I hadn't thrown my back out, but it is what it is, and I was *just* shy of being on track.

So I got off my asterisk, put some shorts on, grabbed a drink, and headed out. I was only counting on 10 or so, thinking I could make up the difference over the next week by adding a mile or two here and there.

But I got going, and it was so nice out, not at all hot yet, and I was having fun, so I didn't even head toward my break point at Starbucks until I was 12 miles in. I hit 15 just before I stopped for a drink and to take a few minutes to let my poor, aching asterisk off the seat for a bit.

You'll never guess where I always stop for a break...

I have options for the ride home. There's a 1.6 mile route, a 4 mile route, and a 5 miles route...and probably a bunch of others in between, but those are the ones I've ridden and know the distances. What I choose usually depends on the time of day and the traffic, but it was a no-brainer today. I wanted to hit 20 by then, and traffic was light, so off I went.

I hit the driveway with a few wheel rotations past 20 miles, and with some added walking...1003 miles.

As long as nothing else happens--no more back injuries, no getting sick--I think I'll be just fine for making my goal.

Also, my ass hurts.

29 May 2019

This guy.

Max has gotten to the point where I pretty much have to stay in the kitchen when he eats because he pushes his food to the edge of the plate, and if it falls off, he either doesn't know where it went, or he just not going to eat off the mat his plate is on.

There may be some visual issues, too. He might not be able to see it.

But still, I stand there and every minute or so, scrape the food toward him, piling it into a little mound so that it's easier for him to get it into his mouth. He understands why I'm doing this, and with certain foods he'll stop eating and look up, letting me know he needs a little help.

Buddah has no issues with eating. It doesn't matter how sticky the food is, he can get it off the plate, and it doesn't wind up sliding off the plate.

But.

He's been watching. He sees what I'm doing. He wants the same attention.

So for the last few days, when he eats, he'll stop and look at me, waiting for me to push his food into a little pile, too. I only have to do it once, just to appease him (whereas with Max, it's a 3-4x thing) and then he'll lick the plate clean.

He's an old man, too. Old men should get what they want. Even if it means I have to stand there while they eat, spoon in hand, waiting to push tiny little globs of dead delicious things around.

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Today would be my parents' 70th wedding anniversary. I'm pretty sure they're up there together, doing exactly what they would have done if they were still alive.

Not much.

Party animals, they were not. But still...they would have been together here, still, and 70 years is worth remembering.

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 Near the beginning of the month, I did quite the number on my back while helping Max keep his food on his plate. I'm just now getting back to where I can do the things I did before. So yesterday we headed out to Six Flags, just to walk around and see if there was anything new (two new roller coasters, neither of which I can ride) (half the rides in the park were closed) and then we came home and took a very short bike ride. Just 5 miles.

I hesitate riding again today because I now have another twinge in my back and I don't want to push it, but damned if I don't have that feeling of oh, a few miles won't hurt.

I'm not an idiot. So I won't ride.

But I wanna.

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 Just because...

24 May 2019

This little chit...

I was awake until 3 this morning, my own doing because I had caffeine after 2pm yesterday. But no big deal, because the Spouse Thingy worked last night and would be home in time for The Feeding of the Beasts.

I heard Max meow outside my door at 7:30 and rolled over, because if the Spouse Thingy wasn't home yet, he would be soon.

At 8:30, Max was howling outside the bedroom, which propelled me out of bed, because that was over an hour after Food O'clock, and surely something--hopefully just holiday traffic--was delaying the opener of the can.

I opened the door; Max led me into the bathroom and then down the hall to the living room. He had clearly been fed, and the Spouse Thingy was asleep in the other room.

Max made sure I got myself a drink, that I sat down...and then he raced to the bedroom, where he curled up on the bed.

On the spot I had just vacated.

The nice, toasty, warm spot.

That little monster just played me.

I am still sleepy, I needed another hour at least, and I really want to go back to bed. But...

There's a cat curled up near my pillow, and he's clearly comfortable and now deeply asleep.

13 May 2019

I've spent the last 5 days doing as little as possible, because moving is 120 kinds of suck and I am a delicate snowflake unwilling to suck up the suck. I've plastered myself into my recliner with the TV playing stuff I'm not really watching, my computer in my lap, and have spent more hours than is healthy scrolling through Reddit. And it's all because one afternoon last week I bent over to scrape the food on Max's plate into a little pile. He has issues getting all the food into his mouth now, and it helps if we pile it back up 2-3 times while he eats.

He's gotten so used to it that when it spreads thin, he sits down and waits.

But, still...as I bent over to scrape, pain exploded in my lower back. It settled in one spot, an angry knot of ouch that is only feeling a little better today. Because of the pain, I haven't gotten more than 4 hours a sleep a night, so my brain has not been fully engaged.

Thus, I sit and scroll, reading but not reading, and getting absolutely nothing productive done. The house is a disaster (really, don't come over, I won't open the door it's so bad) and it's going to stay that way for a few more days...even if I miraculously heal overnight, I'm not risking moving the wrong way and starting this shit show all over.

So today I'll probably sit here and scroll, maybe write a bit. Then scroll some more.

This morning I surfed through Facebook and Reddit, reading posts about Mother's Day and the things people did. Most were cute, most were fun and funny, but a few...eh. They made me feel twitchy, and not because these were from people hurting because their mother's are gone and it's a hard day for them.

No, what bothered me were posts from people who are--and this is good--doing things to improve their health. There was a theme: DH and the kids took me to breakfast, but I was good and I didn't get the pancakes; I got fruit instead. My husband brought home donuts for me, but I was good and I didn't eat one. The kids gave me a box of candy, but I was good and let them eat it all. we went to my favorite pizza place, but I was good and had a salad while the kids and husband had a pepperoni pizza.

It seriously bothers me when people deny themselves a treat and label it as good behavior. It seriously bothers me when people allow themselves a treat and label it as being bad, as if a donut or a couple pieces of chocolate is personal failure.

I understand the frustration of trying to lose weight and get healthier. Hell, I've been watching what I eat, counting calories, tracking exercise, and I hit a plateau a couple months ago and haven't lost a damned thing. I'm 8-10 pounds behind on my goal. It sucks, but it is what it is. I wanted to go to my next endocrinologist appointment at least 10 pounds lighter than I currently am, but with two weeks to go, that's not happening.

Oh, well.

I'm pretty tight with the calories. But when the Spouse Thingy was off a few weeks ago, we went out to eat a couple times, and at no point did I feel like I was being "bad." Food should not, not ever, make you feel like you're engaging in negative behavior. It's just food; you have to eat. And there's nothing wrong with the occasional indulgence.

I get it if you make the salad choice because pizza might be a trigger. I understand if the calories in that donut or chocolate just aren't worth it. But denying yourself isn't "being good." The flipside is that if you made a different choice, you'd "be bad," and peoples...eating is not bad behavior.

Your kids are listening. They're watching. Letting them see you make good choice is admirable; hearing you label your choice as being good sets them up for issues later. Change the narrative; it's not being good, it's appreciating that the foods you're choosing make you feel better and healthier. Let them hear that you enjoy that salad. Let them understand that once in a while a donut is a fine choice, but right now it's not something you want to eat.

And if you really do want it, eat it. Account for the calories and move on.

Have the donut, and if it looks like it will make you go over your total for the day, take a walk or bike ride and burn it off.

Enjoy your food, because you're not getting through life without it, and a life of deprivation is only going to make you miserable while setting you up for a spectacular binge.

You're not being good if you pass up on a treat.
You're not being bad if you eat it.
You're simply making a choice, and that doesn't need a label.

5 May 2019

I had plans for today. Get on the bike, ride 5-7 miles, stop at Starbucks for a bit, then ride another 5 or so, depending on how sore my backside was. Come home, have lunch, clean the kitchen, throw a load of laundry in, then sit down and get some work done.

But...I didn't get to sleep until after 2 this morning, and then Buddah was a total shit and attacked Max at 7:20, which functioned as a loud, piercing, unwanted alarm. Max screamed, I shot out of bed, and threw the door open in time to see Max running down the hall, Buddah on his tail, and the Spouse Thingy chasing Buddah.

The Feliway diffusers were dry. Those suckers might not be perfect, but the do work well enough that we notice when they've run out.

There was no going back to sleep. I've been trying to wake up enough to be at least moderately productive today, but it's nearly noon and the only things I've managed to do are feed the cats at snack time, find a potential handlebar for my bike thanks to a post on Reddit, and blink. And yawn. I've yawned a lot.

Unless I cave and take a nap--which will mean not being able to sleep tonight--I think blinking will be the highlight of my day.

21 April 2019

I've spent the better part of the last 10 days staying with these two:

The Spouse Thingy and I split the time; I took the first 4 nights, he took the next 3, I took the remaining night, mostly for Max's benefit. He would have been fine if I'd stayed the entire 10 days, but he is also very attached to me and physically fine doesn't mean emotionally fine, so it was better for him if I came home for a few nights.

It was also a bonus for Butters, because he really digs the Spouse Thingy. He gets longer walks, often twice a day with him, and walks seem to make him the Happiest Dog in the World.

I came home for a couple hours every day to feed him; he can't go all day without food and the Spouse Thingy was sleeping all day. He'd eat and then head back to nap, probably expecting me to be there when he woke up.

I was not there.

The first night I was back, on the break, Max attached himself to me. He usually sits in my lap and watches TV with me for half an hour to an hour every evening, but that night, my lap was Velcro and he couldn't peel himself up.

Other than 2-3 hours in the afternoon, when I drove back to see the dogs and have lunch with the Spouse Thingy, Max had access to me the entire time.

So, of course, other than that one night, he ignored me.

And then I went away again, but this time I didn't need to come home in the afternoon to feed him. The Spouse Thingy was up and awake in time to open cans for the cats, and it was easier for me to stay where I was, avoiding traffic.

He had everything he needed. He even got fresh steak twice in that time. And shrimp. He had the whole bed to himself. All the things he likes most.

I finally came home last night, and he planted himself on me.

That look...it was like he'd decided I was never coming back and couldn't believe I was there.

Normally when the Spouse Thingy leaves for work, I unlock the door and let him out, and tell him to have fun. Last night I stayed in my chair so that Max didn't have to move, and he stayed there until it was time to eat. After that he went to take a nap and I thought that was it, he was happy, and knew I was staying home.

But this afternoon I decided to go to Starbucks for a bit and get some writing done. As I locked the door from the outside, he sat in the window and watched me, and started meowing.

I told him I'd be back in a bit...but then realized as far as he was concerned, I was leaving him all over again, and that had just happened and he didn't know if I was coming home or not.

I'd barely sat down at Starbucks, but packed everything away and went home. He was still at the window, watching and waiting, and as soon as I sat down he jumped in my lap and stayed there until snack o'clock.

He keeps coming out to see if I'm still here.

There's not really a way to convince him that I won't be leaving him for more than a few hours at a time. So for the next few days I doubt I'll get a lot of work done. Instead, I'll be providing a lap for an upset kitty, and hoping that any errands I run don't upset him too much.

I'm sure as hell not telling him I enjoyed my time with the dogs...that might break his brain.

31 March 2019

I have joined--and left--dozens of writers' groups on Facebook. There tends to be very little discussion of writing on these groups; there tends to be quite a bit of "tell me what happens next in my story" or "name my MC" and my favorite, "I want 2b a writer n I gots a millyon ideas but no one'll by my storys."

I wish I were kidding.

I leave a group when it seems like 99% of the posts are requests for other people to, functionally, do someone else's work, or when it feels like no one in the group truly wants to write--they just want to call themselves a writer. I leave when the same question is asked 50 times a week without the admins doing anything. I can easily overlook issues with language differences or when someone asks a question easily answered by 5 seconds with Google; it's not fair to judge someone struggling with getting their point across in an unfamiliar language, and not everyone has the same level of search skills.

The few groups I've stuck with have many of the same issues, but there are more people participating who genuinely want to write, and who have stories stuck inside that are screaming to get out.

A common question across the board: how do I even get started? I've had this idea for years but every time I try to write it, nothing makes it to paper. I can't get the beginning out. I can't find the inspiration.

The answer, the one no one wants to hear: just sit down and write. Treat it like a job. It is a job. Your dentist doesn't wait for inspiration before filling your cavities. Your grocery store cashier doesn't wait for inspiration before ringing up your Flamin' Hot Cheetos and toilet paper. Your trash man doesn't wait for inspiration before hauling off your garbage.

They show up and do the work.

And that's the answer. Show up. Do the work. It's a job.

I can't get the beginning out. I have the story in my head, but not how to start it.

Just start writing.

It's that easy, and that hard.

However you begin your vomit draft, even carrying over to the first draft, it's not likely to wind up being the beginning of your story in the final draft. That's what the vomit draft is for--pouring out the story with all its awful mistakes, and letting it take form. Some writers don't have a vomit draft; they work from a carefully crafted outline and have the story on paper and jump to the official first draft. Others write by the seat of their pants and have one draft that they tweak. There's no right or wrong way to approach your work.

But all writers proof and edit and rewrite, and things change. Including the first lines.

I start with a vomit draft; it's a royal mess of convoluted thoughts and sentences that would make my fifth grade teacher cry. I know the story; I know what I want it to say. But the vision in my head often starts with very simple things, a relaxed and basic structure only intended to get rolling. By the last draft, I'll have changed 80% of each sentence in the manuscript, at the very least.

My current work, the vomit draft opening:

First & second draft:

This is the version that went to my editor...yet this is not how the final draft begins. This is now the start of chapter two.

When I sat down to start this book, The King of Saint Francis, I had no idea how I wanted to describe the chaos the King walked into. I needed a starting point, so I sat down and started writing, knowing that it might not make it to the final draft. I didn't worry about grammar, style, narrative, or anything other than starting.

I did not wait for inspiration.

There is nothing wrong with writing something so horrible that you won't even read it out loud to your cat. That's what the vomit and/or first draft is for. Just sit down and do the work. Write the words, even if those aren't the words you want to use. Write even if you're not clear on where the story will go; chances are it will tell you. Cough up 100 pages if you have to, but you'll find your beginning somewhere in it.

And to that...there is no writer's block. Write your way through it, and cut the crap out of your manuscript during revisions.

Give yourself permission to suck.

But start, even when you don't know how. Sit down, open your favorite word processor, and if nothing else type out, It were a dark and stormy night...

28 March 2019

Sometime last year, probably August when I was staring at a birthday barreling down on me, I had another enough-is-enough moment and decided that this was it, I was damn well going to lose some weight.

I'd had those moments before. Be all rah-rah about it, lose a few pounds, get less rah-rah, and gain it back. I turned to fad diets because why the hell not, and because I wanted fast results.

I still want fast results, but for once I wanted to approach the whole thing with a realistic bent. And I didn't want to dive in hard, because the Boy's wedding was approaching and I didn't want to buy clothes for it that would end up not fitting on his wedding day.  With his bride's help, I picked out some spiffy things that I liked, and I was damn well going to wear them.

Still, I lost about 6 pounds before the wedding, and promptly gained back 3 because of the food we ate that week...and I was totally cool with that.

When we got home, the Spouse Thingy and I both decided to be sane about this for once. No more fad diets. No Jenny Craig (even though we liked the food), no Nutrisystem, no keto or paleo or Whole30. Just...be sensible. Nothing is off the table. But accountability is definitely on the table.

I'd been using MyFitnessPal for years (1449 day streak, woohoo!) but not as seriously as I could have. He downloaded it, and we started paying attention. Since I also have a Fitbit scale, I was able to look back and track when I'd gained and when I'd lost, and go back and see how and what I was eating. It was a little disheartening at first, because I really haven't been overeating in the last few years.

I just hadn't accounted for a dead slow metabolism. By every metric I could find online, I should have been losing about a pound a week. I kept my intake to 1300-1400 calories most days, rarely going over 1500. I didn't allow for the things that set me apart from most people: zero--and I mean zero--growth hormone, which even at my age would give me a bit of a boost in terms of lean muscle mass, which aids in how much energy you burn; hormones out of whack because of the pituitary tumor, and a host of other things.

The answer, the same as it is for anyone, is to burn more calories than I take in. Common sense. No one is immune to the laws of thermodynamics; if you burn more than you take in, you're going to lose weight. The problem is figuring out where the tipping point is. Just because the average person of your height, weight, and gender can eat 1500 calories a day and lose a pound a week doesn't mean you will, as well.

And I had to get that into my head.

I dropped my calories bit by bit until I figured out where I needed to be to lose. I wasn't happy about it because it's not a lot of food. I like food. When I dropped to 1100 a day--less than the minimum recommended for women--I started to lose. And while I didn't feel hungry, I knew I needed more.

So I started riding the hell out of my pretty electric bike. It was my favorite toy, so that wasn't a problem. I wore a heart rate monitor, tracked the calories I burned, increased my mileage, and ate back less than half those calories. It was enough to get the scale to move, and I got to eat a little more. Win-win.

But eventually, it took seriously long rides to get to the calorie burn I wanted. I love my pink bike, but 20 miles takes a while, and this town is small and riding the same streets 10 times a day gets old. My heart rate wasn't getting as high as it had, and while it was technically still in the burn zone for my age, I didn't feel like I was getting a good enough workout.

I've been following this one guy online for a while now, reading posts he's made about his journey to fitness. Last year around this time, he was over 400 pounds and had also had enough. He has kids, he wants to play with them with the energy they deserve. So he sat down, did the math, figured out how much he was taking in every day and how much he needed to cut to lose...and then bought a bike.

He started with a cheap bike from a big box store, and hated it. He hated it so much that after a few weeks it wound up in his shed, and he started asking online about why other people seemed to ride so easily, even heavy, and he couldn't. The answer--get properly fit for a bike. Then get a better bike. It didn't have to be expensive, but it needed to fit his body and riding style.

So he did, the ride was easier, and a couple weeks ago he did his first century ride. 100 miles.

He weighed himself the morning of the ride and was 190 pounds.

I'd already gone to a local bike shop and had a casual fitting, and bought a road bike. Riding it was a hell of a lot easier than I expected, though I honestly don't think I could have taken off on it the way I have if not for all the miles on the electric bike. But reading about his victory and how he got from 400+ to riding 100 miles in a day, and knowing how much happier he is, made me a bit more determined.

No one said I couldn't take Starbucks breaks...

 This isn't just about weight. It's about being healthy. Having energy. I have a goal weight in mind but if I get to where I feel fantastic and am happy with where I am, I'll work for maintenance.

I'd be lying if I said I don't care what I look like. I don't like being fat. I really hate my turkey-waddle-multiple chins. And along with my weight goal, I want to be able to wear a tight t-shirt and feel great about it.

Mostly, I want to be okay.

And just as much...I want to be able to get on the not-pink bike and ride for hours at a time. Maybe not a century ride, but a half century would be aces.

No more fad diets. No torturing myself over food, no telling myself that I'm cheating for eating pizza, that I'm being bad if I have a cookie. Just...pay attention to what I'm eating, keep moving, and for once, don't give up.

No more dieting at all.

Eat. Move. Be well. And bike, like, a hell of a lot.

24 March 2019

After last year's miserable failure to hit 1500 miles, I decided to shoot for 2000 this year.

March is almost over, and I'm 750 miles deep into the year--way better than last. If not for the rain we keep getting, I'm pretty sure I would be close to 1000 already.

Decal I got for my bike LOL

The downside...my legs hurt. Not constantly, but man, when I was riding today, I felt every rotation of the pedals and somewhere around mile 7 I'm pretty sure I head sobbing sounds coming from my quads.

Still haven't started running, though, and if I want to manage the Hot Chocolate in January, I really ought to get to it.

My feet can start crying right along with my quads.

22 March 2019

I have a little bit of hair now; 11 days out and it's nice and soft and looks more like hair than stubble.

But

My head is still freaking cold. Even with temps in the 60s, it's cold.

I don't remember being this cold in previous years. I probably was, but you know, I'm getting older and the details fade quicker than they used to. Or it's brain freeze.

Another week and I'll probably feel comfortable going outside without a hat.

Which means in another week, I'll need to rub sunscreen on my head. Lesson learned the hard was a few years ago.

16 March 2019

File under stupid chit that makes me happy.

I needed bike shorts. Real bike shorts, with the padding, not just Lycra shorts (which, honestly, I already have somewhere around 20 pair of, because I wear them under jeans and shorts, a habit picked up from 3 Day training to reduce chafing, and now it feels awkward and weird without them.)

Because I've been hitting up a lot of bike things online, I get a lot of bike things in my FB ads...and these shorts were one of them. So I popped over to Amazon to look, the reviews were decent, but the sizes were not. Still, I ordered the largest size available, because...goal shorts.

After they shipped, though, I realized I'd ordered the next size down, not the largest (which was a 14...not exactly large.)

I was annoyed with myself.

I popped back over to Amazon...and the 14s were gone. So I resigned myself to getting a pair of 12s and hanging onto them longer than I'd initially expected before I fit into them.

But.

They fit.

I'm under no illusions--this is vanity sizing. I am not a size 12. I'm smack in between 14 and 16 in women's wear right now, probably a 16 in regularly sized clothing. But I'll take this tiny victory, because these shorts would not have fit 2 months ago.

The biking is paying off.

The downside...just before the Boy's wedding I bought *a lot* of clothing. Several blazers and several pairs of slacks. A few dressy sleeveless shirts. None of them fit now. I tried on a blazer I've been saving for a meeting with my editor, and it looks sloppy. So someone is getting a few never-worn things.

Editor Battleaxe has assured me that when she gets to SF (ahem, lady, it was supposed to be last month) there will be no dress code. But still. I had a nice blazer and I wanted to wear it and look all professional and chit. Instead, she's gonna get Thumper in a ball cap, jeans, and a t-shirt that says I CAN'T ADULT TODAY.

But, yeah...I am oddly pleased that the shorts fit. Now I want to go see if they have other colors...

15 March 2019

Instead of doing real work, even housework, Max and I (shuddup, he's helping) have been setting up a site for The Wick Chronicles. It's bare bones right now, with links that probably go nowhere, and one that leads to my Amazon author page, but eventually we want it to be comprehensive, interactive, and we'll occasionally offer freebies.

This is how he's helping...

The original idea was to set up a Patreon page, but I keep reading horror stories from both the creators and their supporters, and I don't need any new headaches. I'm not totally dismissing the idea, but if we can offer up the same things without committing people to something every month, all the better.

I have no idea how this will play out, really. At the very least I'd like to be able to offer moderately tech savvy people discounted first reads on Max's books as they come out--you'd only need to know how to side-load a file onto your Kindle or other reading device--but I also need to figure out how to implement that without the books winding up for sale under someone else's name before we get to print. Or even after.

I've never had DRM on my books; I believe in trusting people with the things they purchased and presume they'll be fair about it. The only time I know for sure that I've been burned was by a publisher who offered my entire first novel online instead of the first 20% as intended. There were, the publisher estimated, 25,000 downloads before they caught the mistake.

No, I was never compensated.

We'll figure it out.

Since we're not going down the Patreon path, there might be--I stress might be--a tipjar* at some point. It depends on how much content we can generate. The tipjar would function as royalties do when you buy a book online--the money Max earns is used to purchase toys at Christmas for either Toys for Tots or the local foster kids program, and once in a while it's used for other charitable donations.

There will be more than Wick content available, eventually. If you haven't read any of his books, they'll be offered at discounts, and on random days, perhaps even for free. My books will show up there at some point.

But, we're getting things ready. Mostly, I need a better theme, because it's kind of bland right now. I'm not creative enough to write the code for my own, so I'll probably wind up buying something, once I find a reputable site for Wordpress.org themes.



*I mention that upfront because many, many years ago, I had a link to a joke tipjar, a link no one clicked on, and got reamed for my crassness in having it. If anyone had followed the breadcrumbs, they would have eventually landed on a "Thanks, but..." page. The max total anyone could have clicked on to donate was 50 cents, and even then they would have wound up at the Thanks, but... page. I expected one person to click on it, someone with whom I had a long running joke about owing me fifty cents for a long forgotten debt...but the whole thing backfired, and after it languishing on my blog for over 3 years, someone noticed it and started yelling...people piled on...it was not pretty.

14 March 2019

Max and I are working on two different things right now: another Wick book, and his interview with Buddah. the former is a week or so from going to the editor for a final look (she's already read it, likes it, and the beta readers have had their way with it, too) and the latter is at the end stage of the first draft.

So, kind of close to two more books hitting the market, and all I could think today was, "Damn, that's really going to screw up my blog header."

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

I think the bike in the Room of Pain is coming off the trainer and heading into the shed. I keep trying to use it, but the fit is all wrong and I feel so cramped that I don't stay on it long enough.

Sucks, because it's a good bike otherwise. I may pull off all the extras, like the rear rack, and re-home it. Before I do, though, I'll take it for a spin outside...it could be how I feel up on a trainer. I dunno. But I have two other bikes in the garage so if it's a matter of fit, there's no point keeping it, not when there's surely someone else out there who would like a good bike but can't afford one.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

 My head is really cold.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

Buddah's 14th birthday--the one we picked, because we don't know the actual date--is tomorrow. He's getting new nip bananas but not anything else, really. 1) he doesn't like people food so that's not much of a gift and 2) he's a cat, he doesn't care. But mostly 1.

That spastic little demon kitty is an old man now.

12 March 2019

Thanks to your generosity, my head is now cold--no kidding, it's freaking chilly--and St. Baldrick's has $1504 that they otherwise wouldn't have had. Even better...DeVere's, the Irish pub where the event is held, has raised $2.5 million in the last ten years. I don't think that includes this year, either.

Not gonna lie, and I've said it before, I really don't like this. The next two weeks are going to be several levels of uncomfortable; people stare more at the bald than they do when my hair is neon pink, probably because they're trying to figure out if I'm sick, if I'm just weird, or what.

Truthfully, it would be super easy to sign up, raise funds, get my t-shirt, and then duck out without getting my head shaved, but that wasn't the deal (other than 2015 or 2016 when a last minute don't-shave donation of $3500 was offered and I couldn't pass it up...)

Every year I tell myself this is it, after this I'll just donate a few bucks, but I'm not telling myself that this year. This was year 6, and next year I'll move up from the Squire of Hope rank to being a Knight...and guys, I am all about the fake designations. I WILL BE A KNIGHT!

After that...well, the next one is at 10 years, and I told myself before that I didn't need it, ten years was stretching it. But then I thought I would keep doing it until the year I turn 60, and if I do that I might as well do another year...

So, who knows.

But even though I don't have kids in my life going through the horror of diagnoses and treatment, this means as much to me as the events for breast cancer. Mostly because it's kids involved, and the idea that any child has to go through this is so wrong.

Both of my parents had cancer. My dad lost a kidney to it, and my mom had lymphoma. I could (and have) done things to raise money to combat those diseases, but I think they would be just as pleased that this is what I do in their memories. My dad was a very stoic, quiet man, not prone to emotional outbursts, but I know that the idea of a child with cancer would have reddened his eyes and make his voice crack...and then he would excuse himself to another room so that no one else would see what he was feeling.

So, next year for sure, so I can become a Knight, and then y'all will have to address me as Sir Thumper.

You know I'm going to insist on it.

9 March 2019

Thanks to y'all's generosity, I hit my goal for St. Baldrick's, with $4 to spare. So in two days, I will present myself to the people with the noisy clippers, get all the purple hair removed from my head, and hope that there's nothing weird growing on my scalp. After I'm bald and cold, I'm totally going into the bar for a shot or three of Fireball, and maybe a burger.

I can't thank you guys enough. And it would be totally weird if I tried. Like, someone would probably punch me in the face and yell ENOUGH ALREADY and I'm too old to duck quickly enough. I've gotten way too slow in my latter middle aged years.

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Speaking of slow. I bought a new bike this week, one that's not glaringly bright or pretty, and one that does not have a motor to give me that boost I've fallen in love with on my long rides.

I am so slow on this thing. Like, most runners can pass me up. But once my butt gets used to that seat, I'll be able to do 10 mile rides with no difficulty, I think. Yesterday I rode 4 miles to Starbucks, worked for about 45 minutes, and then 5.5 miles home. I wanted it to be 6, but...yeah, my poor asterisk was screaming at me.

There's still the concern about my blood sugar crashing and once the weather warms up, overheating, as I wont to do. I need to get in the habit of carrying Lifesavers with me, and figure out ways to cool down periodically on a ride. It might mean investing in a few Arctic Cool shirts, which are kinda form fitting and not especially flattering given my nice spare tire, but...not passing out mid-ride trumps discomfort over the flab.

This wouldn't have been possible if not for the thousands of miles on the ebike. Okay, two thousands, but still. More that one. Riding that got me into shape just good enough to know I could make the leap, and while I still worry about my knees and face planting, I can do it. Two years ago, pre-ebike, no way.

This doesn't mean the ebike is going anywhere. It's still my favorite toy and I'll still pile the miles on it. But most days, before I hop on it, the new Thumper-powered bike goes out for an hour. And hopefully I'll get faster.

Also hopefully, that 80 year old lady I sometimes see out riding won't zoom past me. I don't think my ego could take that.

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 This was delivered on Feb 26, and the cats are just now jumping on it.

I honestly thought that they would claim it by the end of the day, Buddah especially since it gives him a much better and more comfortable view than the sideboard that was there.

They still won't get on it at the same time, though.

Probably never will.

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 Dammit, y'all, I like my hair. IT'S PURPLE.

6 March 2019

"It's kind of early to fundraise for the 3 Day," a friend recently said. "I was surprised to see it pop up on Facebook. Any plans in place for if it doesn't happen?"

Yeah, it does feel early. And I hadn't planned on starting it so early, but I clicked on a thingy at the 3 Day site to connect my page there to my Facebook profile and didn't realize it would propagate...and people started donating. So I posted here, and the ball started rolling, and I'm close to being halfway to goal with that one (Still a bit away from my St. Baldrick's goal...FIVE MORE DAYS!) And I have every intention of being there in San Diego for the walk.

But, we all know I've missed a couple for reasons, and there's never a guarantee.

So I won't be doing much active fundraising until it's closer to the date.

BUT...if we don't go, we'll still earn those donations. If the Spouse Thingy can't get the time off, or something else happens, we'll do the miles.

On the bikes.

And all in one day.

Plus a few.

I won't pin the Spouse Thingy down to ride the miles--he can be my support crew, which I will need--but if I don't walk for the 3 Day, I'll do a minimum of 60 miles on the bike...and shoot for 80-100. In one day. I'll nail it down closer to that weekend, but the promise is this: if I don't walk, I ride 60, period. I will train for more and shoot for 80+ so that I earn every penny of every donation.

I can be bribed to ride outlandishly.

The point is to raise the money for breast cancer research. Ideally I'll do the miles in San Diego with 1300 other people and a whole lot of Fireball, but this is the fall-back plan.

But man, I really want to be in San Diego, whether I walk the whole thing or not.

So add to that...if I go and don't walk the whole thing, I will then bike the miles at home. All of them.

But first is St. Baldrick's on Monday. I am $302 from matching what I raised last year, so I'll be super happy if I can raise $303 before the event. I'm getting the t-shirt, though, so my inner 8 year old is satisfied. The soon-to-be-bald, adult, though, would like to beat last year. Smash it by hitting my goal. For that, I need to raise another $522.

It's tax deductible, y'all.

And if you're in the area, it's being held at a bar...could be 3 or 4 kinds of fun! I damn well better get a shot or two of Fireball...before and after.

5 March 2019

I rode in the rain today.

Like, a total of two miles, but still.

I rode in the rain and did not melt.

If my mom were still alive, I would totally jab my pointy finger in her direction and yell, Oh yeah, take that, I am OBVS not the Wicked Witch of the West.

Or east.

Whichever witch melted...

26 February 2019

Were I less of a weenie, this wouldn't stop me from going outside for a bike ride.

I am, when it comes to being cold and wet, a royal weenie. I am the drag king of weenies.

I am the whining drag king of weenies, because I want to go outside and play, but it's cold and it's wet and it looks like it will be for the rest of the week and possibly through the weekend.

A few weeks ago, I whined less about the rain because we really needed it. But come on, Weather Fairies, enough is enough. Flooding is the issue now. We need for it to not rain for a few weeks.

No, seriously, we've hit the point where it would probably be better if we didn't have any rain for a while. Snow in the mountains, adding to the snow pack, would be good, but rain down here is just going to get complicated. Also, my mood is going to suck if it keeps up much longer.

Now, I have options. I know I have options.

I have the road bike propped up on a trainer and I have the treadmill, so it's not like I can't do anything...but I'd rather be outside and not in a small room that will quickly smell like my armpits.

There's no way I'll hit 300 miles for February. I probably won't hit 200, though it'll be close...I think I'm sitting at 170, with two days left since it's a short month.

Eh, that's actually doable, even on the trainer.

Doesn't mean I'm going to stop whining.

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Thirteen days until St. Baldrick's and this might be the year that I'll be mostly okay with having my head shaved. No, I'm not happy about being bald, but I dyed my hair purple a couple weeks ago and I think I might be a tiny bit allergic to this particular dye. My scalp has itched since then, and I have a rash on my upper back, likely because as I shower, the dye drips down.

That means there's a real chance that when they shave my head, I'll have a giant red rash on the back side of my head, probably throbbing at anyone unlucky enough to be behind me, Like, who wouldn't want to see that?

I'm $443 shy of what I raised last year, but I don't really want to amp up the fundraising, not on the heels of registering for the 3 Day and getting a ton of donations for that already.

But, still, I'm sure as hell not turning down any donations. If you want to support research into and treatment of childhood cancers, click [here] and contribute to my public humiliation discomfort.

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Oh, and I have one of these. A Flexispot desk bike, not the Mac computer.

It is no longer enough (hence putting the road bike back up) and it's taking up space.

If you're local-ish and interested, let me know. It sells new for $400 (and is in very, very good condition) and I'm pricing it at $175.

It's actually a decent little bike. It has a small footprint, but doesn't feel tiny when you're on it. You can ride hard on it with the tension notched up, but if you do stuff on the desk will go flying. It's pretty perfect for working up a light sweat while surfing online or reading, and quiet enough to watch TV. The desktop is adjustable, so you can get it right where you want it.

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And for all you people waiting for a purple cat pen, the Spouse Thingy got his first batch of supplies and is, at this very minute, in the garage working on the first couple.

What he couldn't get are the silver/chrome bits, so if you wanted that in particular, the stuff is on backorder but he's keeping his eye on the supplier so as soon as he can, he'll order those.

Slowly but surely, y'all are gonna get your purple pens!

22 February 2019

Um. Yeah. About that not walking the 3 Day again because it's just too rough on my body.

Eh, what the hell. What's the worst that can happen, other than dying?

Between all the bike riding and trying to get my pace down for the 2020 Hot Chocolate, I think I have the training covered. Basically what I'll need for the actual walk are drugs (I am not even kidding...though I'm not sure I can convince my doc to give me Norco for this and I don't have any left), Fireball (there should be some on route), and donations.

The Spouse Thingy has already asked for the time off for other things things this year so I'm not sure he can get off for the 3 Day, but if he can...we'll see. It would be fun to walk with him again because I can keep up with him. And this year we would both be in better condition than we were in 2017.

So, yeah, we'll see. But I fully intend to be there. 'Tis a shame they won't let me ride the route on my bike.

19 February 2019

I fed him at 7:30 this morning.

At 9:45, when I was making my own breakfast, he sat on the floor and insisted that if he didn't get fed again, he was going to pass out, and quite likely loose control of his bowels and bladder, and wouldn't that be a shame since Buddah had just pooped on the floor 18.387 inches from the litter box?

The entire time I was making oatmeal, he was begging.

I'm not a monster. On the off chance that he really didn't eat enough two hours earlier, even though there are two bowls full of fresh crunchy food, I opened a can and fed the little monsters again, because of course I did.

He ate three bites, sat down, and proclaimed the offering insufficient. To assure that I would have 3 minutes without a cat in my face so I could eat my own food, I gave him a few crunchy treats. He ate them, proclaimed that good enough, and walked off.

Feed me feed me feed me feed me...

At 11:45, he jumped into the chair and began working me for early lunch. He's not hungry, I know he's not hungry; were he truly hungry, he'd go eat the food that's still on his plate in the kitchen. But habit is a snack at 11:00, and he did not get that snack because he'd been given something just a little over an hour earlier.

I know him. He's going to whine at me until I cave in, no matter how long it takes--it will take until 2pm, when it's time for a snack--and he'll think he won. (And yes, he gets fed a lot. Minimum 5, sometimes 6-7 times a day, just to keep his weight at 12.5 pounds.) Every few minutes I'll interrupt him to remind him that I'm working and I really don't need the distraction...and he won't care.

And people wonder why I work at Starbucks so often...

Which I am about to do, because we're into the second draft of his next book, and he's not helping the process... You think he would understand that, but no.

Perhaps my expectations are too high.

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Just a little under three weeks to St. Baldrick's and the annual why-did-I-do-this-I-hate-being-bald shaving of the hair. I'm just shy of halfway to goal...don't you want to participate in my misery? Because I will be miserable for a couple of weeks.

Your donation is tax deductible, if you itemize. If you don't itemize, well...you get to help the kids while encouraging me to do humiliating public things. And isn't that the point? Making me do things?

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Speaking of doing things...I registered for the 2020 Hot Chocolate 15K in San Francisco. It's not quite a bucket list thing, but one of those things that if I don't do it soon, I'll have regrets. I can do the distance, it's the pace that's a problem.

I registered the Spouse Thingy, too. LOL let's see if he'll do it.

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We have reached the GET UP AND FEED ME portion of the afternoon. Man, is he going to be pissed when I get up and leave the house...

Come on...you know I'll give him something before I go. I'm that easy.

8 February 2019

Ok. I think we officially need to worry. They're going to start conspiring soon.

7 February 2019

This never happens.

Yesterday, following the mass consumption of steak fresh off the grill--and they got as much as they wanted to eat in lieu of opening a can of cat food--they plopped down on the bed fairly close to each other.

Sleeping did not occur; it was a coordinated effort to keep the bed from being made. I swear, Max especially knows when sheets are going to be changed and when beds are going to be made, and he makes a beeline for the bed. If it's sheets, he wants to help, and by help I mean he wants to get in the way as much as possible and turns into a furry little crack headed monster, chasing fabric and jumping on it like he's just brought down a cow all by himself. If it's bed-making, he wants to stop it. And yet, he loves sleeping on a nicely made bed, getting his fur all over it.

I've given up trying to figure them out.

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I am a cold weather weenie.

It was 33F in the front yard when I got up this morning at Stupid O'clock, and I've been waiting, sorta patiently, for the temp to get to 46-47F . It's supposed to be a nice, sunny day and the rest of the week is not, so I'd really like to get a bike ride in. Between the rain we've had and errands that got in the way, I haven't been on the bike (other than a really short one last night) in a week. I'm falling way behind on my mileage goal for the month.

If I were not a weenie, I'd be outside right now, riding in circles around Dixon.

The Spouse Thingy is not a weenie, so he's outside mowing the grass. But that's also not at 14 mph, so he only gets 7 Not-A-Weenie points. He'd get 10 or so if it were a bit breezy.

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He's mad because I don't have my lap available for his use. I keep telling him we're going to watch 2 episodes of Star Trek: Discovery tonight and he can have it then, but that's not good enough.

Suck it up, cat. I'm busy waiting for it to warm up enough to go outside and play, and while I do that I have work to get done. And Reddit to browse. And comics to read. I have stuff, cat.

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Yes, I talk to him. We have long conversations, mostly about my failings.

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A little over a month to go, a little under halfway to goal...

30 January 2019

I set a mental goal of 200 miles a month, to make sure I hit 2000 for the year.

With one day left in January, I hit 300.

Only 1700 more to go.

Tomorrow will be a rest day, mostly because by mile 17 of today's 20 my knee was letting me know enough is enough. I was feeling my quads this morning before I even got on the bike, like I'd done a 300 pound leg press more than once.

Worst part...over 300 miles, and keeping my calories close to 1200 a day, I've lost a grand total on half a freaking pound this month.

I better be getting some shredded legs out of this and am gaining muscle, but I had a few things off the Bad Word List tumble from my mouth this morning.

OTOH, Max reaped praise when he got on the scale, because he's holding onto 12.5 pounds. Also because he sits there until I say he can get up, which makes him a good boy, but I know better than to say those words. Instead he gets "Good job!" even though deep down I'm thinking, "Good boy, big guy."

Now if only Buddah would cooperate as well...

24 January 2019

Oddz N Endz #985,139,100.4x6²

The first charity event I'm committed to this year is rapidly approaching and I haven't even started fundraising yet. It might be the only one this year--we registered for the 3 Day but I doubt we'll do it, because it's a spendy kind of thing and we have some home improvements to tackle--and the one for sure is the one I'll do this year and two more, maybe three. Stop when I'm 60.

Or not.

The for sure is the St. Baldrick's head shaving event in March. This is the only one I'll probably beg for donations, starting...now.

You donate, I get my head shaved and suffer the uncomfortableness of it for about 6 weeks, until it grows out enough to not look six kinds of weird.

It's for kid's cancer research, so please donate what you can. I will look like a goofball for something that does a hell of a lot of good for kids who are going through this. I set a goal of $1500 for this year, and I'd at least like to break last year's $1205.

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For about a mile and a half on my ride today, I was about 3 kinds of freaked out. I noted in my rear view mirror a car following; I expected it would speed up and pass me, but it stayed back there, creeping along at the same 14 mph I was going. When it didn't pass me, I made a hard fast turn onto another street, because of course I was imagining things, and it would keep going straight.

The driver turned onto the same street, and kept the same distance behind me. 14-15 mph on a 25 mpg street.

So I pedaled faster, looking for people. When I got to the end of the street I turned right, knowing my dentist's office was one more turn away, and if that SOB was still on my six, I intended on barreling in there.

I turned left to the street where the dentist is, he turned...and when he spotted the cop coming my way, he did a U-turn and went elsewhere. I was =this= close to waving the cop down, and in hindsight I should have. But riding in town just got a bit creepy.

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On the bright side, the manager of the pizza place where the Spouse Thingy and I often meet near the end of our rides asked the building owner about putting in a bike rack, and today he told us work will start in February. They're putting one in near the pizza place, and another at the end of the strip near the bakery.

It stemmed from a Facebook post not too long ago. The manager was online getting feedback, and I posted--not thinking anything would come of it--that a rack to lock up to would be nice, so I could destroy all the calories I'd just burned on a ride. He replied he'd make it happen. And damned, it's gonna happen.

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Today is the Spouse Thingy's last day off. Sucks that we didn't get to go to Disneyland, but we actually had a decent time at home. It rained a lot but we still managed to get several rides in--I think I'm at around 140 miles for the last 2 weeks--and we saw a couple of movies, purged a bunch of stuff from the house, and slept in a lot. Not too shabby.

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Because of the opening of Star Wars Land in Disney this year, it's probably going to be wicked crowded for the next 2-3 years, so I doubt we'll even try to go. I may be wrong, who knows. But I think we'll shoot for something different this spring, maybe Monterrey. Or Vegas. Or both.

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 Also, I'm still contemplating Patreon. I kinda want to, kinda leery of it, mostly because of some horror stories I'm reading online. I'd just like a platform where I can share stuff I'm working on before it goes to print, an all-you-can-eat kinda thing for a freaking low monthly cost.

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And this guy has been helping lately. I think I'm glad I don't understand him, because his tone is pretty freaking critical and he doesn't seem to approve of the work Max and I are doing.

23 January 2019

Okay, one more week left in the month and I'm totally on track to hit 2000 miles for the year. Presuming I can keep this pace, especially once summer hits and it's hot and all I want to do is sit inside and read.

But, so far so good.

Most of the miles have been done on my spiffy pink bike, just riding around town. I still get asked a lot of questions about it, usually just people who are curious about where one gets a bike pink enough to blind the masses, but once in a while I'll talk to someone who wants to know if I get any kind of real workout on it.

This is today's ride. It was 45 minutes, a smidge over 10 miles. My heart rate was about as high as someone my age should get, and I sustained it the whole ride.

It feels like a real workout.

I'm not fast, not even close. I top out at about 14.5 mph using level two of the pedal assist. I could go faster by going up to 3, 4, or 5 but this is the sweet spot for me, just enough to take the strain off my knees but not enough to turn it into a super lightweight motorcycle. I pedal, I get my HR up, and I sweat.

I get passed by a lot of the same riders, guys on road bikes who blast past me at 22-25mph. One part of my brain says I'll get there someday, another part doesn't care because I'm already having fun.

I also cross paths with this old guy most days; he's in his 70s and rides slowly, on the sidewalk, on a fairly nice hybrid. We see each other enough that when we pass we say Hi and smile.

I nearly always ride by a drug deal going down on one of the bike paths...by now I think the guy realizes I'm no threat, and he nods when I pedal by. I just tell myself he's selling weed and it's legal here, so no skin off my nose.

I just zoom around and enjoy it. Granted, I wish we had bike paths like the ones in nearby Davis, and that there were safe roads to get to places like Davis and Vacaville on a bike...it would be a hell of a lot more fun to get out of town without needing to throw the bike on the back of the car.

If I ever win the lottery, we're totally moving to someplace that has great riding paths (and ebikes are allowed) and the temperature is nice and even and water magically appears without rain.

Hey, if I can win the lottery, I can find that place.

In any case, I have fewer than 1800 miles to go. Yay.