29 April 2020

I'm sitting here with the news on, listening to people trying to justify going against the current Stay in Place orders, wanting to open their nonessential businesses. And the argument across the board is Operating my business is my right as an American.

Here's the thing.

Your rights end where someone else's begin.

You have the right of free speech; you cannot yell Fire in a public venue. Why? Your right to free speech ends when the safety of others is in play.

You have freedom of expression; you cannot paint your neighbor's house as any sort of statement. It's not yours to do with as you please.

You have freedom of religion; you cannot chuck rocks at someone's head no matter how strong a commandment it might be. And that's right there in the Bible, stoning adulterers. I don't recommend trying it.

So you can be as frustrated as you want; your right to operate a legal business is suspended when having it open might inflict illness upon someone else. It's that basic. It is fair, even when it doesn't feel like it is. And yes, you would be careful, you would practice stringent sanitizing, only allow X number of people in at a time, and you're healthy.

It only takes one person. One customer without symptoms. One employee working because they're too afraid to admit to that scratchy throat. You might feel fine when you're not; your customers might feel fine.

Yes, fast food is allowed to have drive-through and curbside pickup. Grocery stores are open. Hardware store are open. They're open because there's no way around it. People have to eat. Stuff in houses break and need immediate repair.

No one needs a haircut badly enough to risk someone else's life. No one needs a tattoo (and trust me, I want one. Badly.) No one needs Starbucks and I am flummoxed as to why they're considered essential enough to be open...and I love going to Starbucks.

You might be willing to risk your own health; your customer might be willing to risk their own health. But you both carry that risk with you when you leave that place of business, and because of that...your right to do business ends because it infringes on the rights of others to pursuit health.

It's not perfect. But it is what it is, and if you embrace your rights as an American, then you have to embrace those inconvenient moments when you have to let loose your grip on anything other than the fundamental cornerstones of this Republic.

(It's not a democracy, you know. Recite the Pledge of Allegiance for a light bulb moment.)

It sucks. Some businesses won't survive, and that sucks even more. But if you open too soon and spread this virus, we're going to lose any advantage we've gained, and we start this sucky little merry go round all over. Only it will probably be worse.

(See: Spanish Flu, when people started going out and clustering at the first signs it had abated. It got worse. Much worse.)

You have a right to operate a legal business...just not right now.

15 April 2020

The last time the Spouse Thingy and I went on a bike ride, my chain was rubbing on the front derailleur a bit, only in a few gears and only on the small chain ring. So I popped it onto the big chain ring, finished the ride, and decided it was time for me to learn to adjust things myself.

A couple of You Tub videos and a perusal of my Bike Maintenance & Repair for Dummies book, I was confident enough to make such a small repair.

Long story short. Or short story long. Yeah, I was grateful that the bike shop is considered essential and is open right now. Yesterday he took my bike there where someone who KNOWS things could adjust it. And where he was told that yeah, it was time for a checkup since they usually recommend it after 3 months, and I bought it about 3 months ago. (And nearly 700 miles! Go me!)

I did not know that. I'm sure they told me, but I was all NEW BIKE NEW BIKE NEW BIKE and probably didn't hear (and I will not hear again when I upgrade, probably in August, because I'll be all REALLY AWESOME NEW BIKE and wetting myself with joy.)

((Ooh...new contender I probably have mentioned but am soooooo looking forward to test riding once normal life returns. Orbea Avant M20.)

Anyway, the adjustment was free. I appreciated that. And today we took advantage of the nice weather and headed out for a ride, the first one for me in, hm, 3 weeks? First outside one, anyway.

When I last took a nice, long ride, I think I did 14-15 miles. Today I had to step off the bike at 5 for a few minutes, and at 7 I declared myself to be DONE because my poor ass was on fire.

I need to get used to the seat all over again, I guess.

He's off tomorrow so we'll probably ride again, and this weekend I'll make use of the too-comfortable Townie inside.  But after this weekend, he's off for ten days and as long as the weather holds, I intend to be on that bike every damned day.

I do not look right without the tattoos...

I also want to pull out the Trikke and the Street Strider and play with those, too.

I don't even know if the tires are okay for riding on, it's been so long. The Trikke's tires were upgraded shortly after this picture but it hasn't been used for several years. Same with the Strider. For all I know they both have tire rot.

So fingers crossed. Those are things I can play with in the court and not worry about venturing too far from home, which gives me more options when I'm alone.

And yes, I realize I could wreck just as easily with the Spouse Thingy with me, but he can better assess if I need emergency care or not, and if he's there no one else will need to touch me.

I'm being careful, that's all.

But I'm looking forward to his time off, just so we can go outside and play. Away from everyone else. And man, I really need to just to work off some of the junk I've let myself eat lately.

No regrets. PIZZA IS LIFE. So are brownies. And I might make a cake. And fry some chit.

Oh yeah, I'm gonna end this thing with a nice 5 pound gain, I bet. Do. Not. Care.

10 April 2020

I am so freaking tired. I am the kind of tired where everything coming out of my mouth probably sounds bitchy, even when I don't mean it to be. Someone might want to warn the Spouse Thingy.

Over the last week I don't think I've slept more than 5 hours at a time, and the last 3 nights, my longest stretch was 4 hours. Usually my insomnia starts with a thought that zips through my head, which triggers another thought, and then 5,827 things are thundering around in there, and I just can't sleep because of it.

Nine times out of ten, it's pieces of a story worming out of the gray matter, connecting with other pieces, trying to become a Real Thing.

I've been pondering work while trying to fall asleep, sure, but this not sleeping has little to do with the bees in my brain and everything to do with trying to be a Good Little Citizen and staying at home, not outside wandering the aisles of Walmart and the grocery store with a hundred other people.

I'm just not tired enough.

I've avoided doing my favorite thing, long bike rides, because of the chance that something will happen, I'll wreck or get hit, and then take up space in a hospital, space I shouldn't take. I'm more concerned with that than the notion that I am in a couple of risk categories and contracting COVID would be a bad idea...even though, right now, beds are not in shortage in CA, I don't want to be That Person, the one who has options at home but chose to not use them, and who did something risky that then impacts someone else.

It makes sense in my head.

I have options here. We have a perfectly good treadmill--and it's a really good one--and a nearly top of the line rower.

I have a bike up on a trainer on my office, conveniently parked in front of a fairly large TV with Netflix and Amazon Prime and CBS All Access, and a bunch of other options.

I even use them. Well, the bike mostly. Training for the 3 Day had kinda ruined walking for me and the treadmill now feels like torture.

But it's not the same, and it's not enough.

Until now, I didn't realize how much ancillary moving I typically do. Walking around the store. Going places where walking is just part of it. Getting up and doing. Granted, there are lots of things I could be doing, but even those things (side-eye to the kitchen) don't take much time or effort. I did the major thing, completely rearranging the bedroom, which required a lot of heavy-ish lifting, and deep cleaned it and Max's bedroom...but the rest of the house doesn't require that much effort.

I need to get out and do all the things I normally do.

Yet, I won't.

So now I'm stuck in this Catch-22 of not being tired enough to sleep, and being too tired from lack of it to do much of anything else around the house.

I suspect what comes next for me is embracing my inner night owl, staying up until 4 in the morning and sleeping as late as I can. Fingers crossed that Max and Buddah can adjust as well, because those furry little bottomless pits like being fed every 2.5-3 hours during the day.

And despite the whining...this isn't hard. It's just staying home and being lazy. I'm a damned professional at that. I have books, TV, Internet, and I enjoy my work. I would just like it a whole lot more if I could sleep like a normal person.

This might be my new normal, tho.

It really sucks to be a night owl when you're night blind...

9 April 2020

Look, I get it. This weekend is important to a very large segment of the population, perhaps more so than Christmas, and the idea of not being able to attend church services is like having a grain of sand irritating your soul, right where you can't scratch it.

But...

This wasn't a serious conversation...this was me being poked at by a friend helping me bring to the surface of my brain something buried, something that bothered me about seeing people on the news whining about being turned away from their churches this past weekend, people who are determined to meet and worship on Easter Sunday.

It is not your risk to take.

Nothing that involves going out in public right now falls under the blanket notion of infection being your risk to take.

Yes, Sunday is Easter. It's important. But there's something more important if you consider yourself someone of Christian faith:

THOU SHALT NOT KILL

Go ahead, look it up if you're unfamiliar. If you need a hint, think "6th of the 10 Commandments." Or peek at Exodus 20:13 / Deuteronomy 5:17.

You don't have the right to risk that you might be a carrier of this virus, and that your attendance in church will infect someone else. Maybe you're asymptomatic; you could have it and not know. Maybe you just got over it and figure all is well; you could be shedding virus still and not know. The experts don't know. 

If you and you brethren show up to worship together on Sunday, and even one person in that congregation falls ill, you are culpable. If that person dies?

Are you willing to be the one who infected them?

This isn't even a "But I didn't know" type thing. You DO know. By asserting that you have every right to assemble and worship, you're admitting that you're will to kill someone else for the privilege.

It is a privilege. You have the right to your religion; you do not have the right to inflict any part of that on someone else. Not even those with whom you typically meet and pray with.

It's not about protecting yourself.

It's about not harming someone else.

Stay home on Sunday. You can hit your knees and pray, you can thank the Lord for as long as you want, as deeply as you need, and as loudly as you can without being a nuisance to your neighbors. And while you're down there, perhaps consider thanking him for the grace you've been given, the fact that you are truly blessed to be home, where you can believe and pray in any manner you choose, and not hooked up to a ventilator somewhere, fighting for your life with every torturous breath you take.

If you are the Christian you seem to want the world to think, then be one. Treat others with the consideration you would wish to be treated, and don't risk infecting anyone. Don't risk killing anyone. Because you truly do not have that right.

4 April 2020

Stupidly, the only thing annoying me about isolation is not being able to go into a restaurant, sit down, order, and eat there. We've kept up with our once-a-week pizza habit, mainly because we want to support this place, but I'd be lying if I didn't admit I would much rather not do take out.

What we usually do is take a good, longish bike ride, and stop there near the end of the ride. Before the had a dining room they had a couple of outside tables, and we'd park the bikes, go in and order, and then eat outside. Spring through fall, it was nice. Then the dining room opened so even on hot or cold days, we could still use it as an end-of-ride treat.

Now we order takeout and sit in front of the TV. Not nearly the same.

I miss going out. I mean, I'll totally survive, but it's the one thing I miss.

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We did go see the kids this week. And by see them, I mean we put some stuff on their front porch, backed the hell up, and talked to them with a respectable amount of distance between us. While I'm okay with self isolation, I didn't realize how badly I needed to see them.

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We also took a couple of bikes over so they would have something else to do. Now I'm down to three; the road bike, the little blue Townie, and the screaming neon pink beast. And I'm not sure I'm counting the pink beast anymore, because I've kind of outgrown it. It sits in the garage, waiting for DKM to be ready to start riding. It'll live there for a while then, so she can play with it and decide if she even likes riding. Not everyone does, and she might as well use my bike so she doesn't waste money buying one and then realizing she hates it.

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All y'all who are social animals much be going about 6 degrees of bat crap crazy by now. And now you know how the rest of us feel when you drag us to things with lots of people. ;)

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I really thought that will all this time being stuck inside, I would clean the house. Turns out, I don't really have more time than I did before. Who knew that when you work from home, you wind up still working from home when you have to, you know, work from home? 

Also, I hate housework. When this is over, I am totally hiring someone to come in here a couple times a month and do all the crap I never bother with. Unless it's spendy. In which case, no one is ever allowed inside again, because this place is kinda gross.

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Yesterday I discovered the joy of bike sprints. Last night I decided to get on the indoor bike (which is now the little blue Townie because the gray bike now belongs to the Boy) and see if I could approximate a sprint on it. Turns out, if you try to go fast on a trainer, after a minute or so you smell burning rubber. I know I wasn't going that fast, so I probably need to dial the tension back a bit. Or not. Worst thing that will happen is I'll need a new tire soon.

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Oh. I am down to three bikes. That means I need a new one, right??? Fine, I'll wait, but I totally know what the next one is going to be and I'm totally getting it for my birthday. Or I'm 99% sure. There's one other that caught my eye. That's the joy of looking at bike porn online. It's all attainable. I can want as much as I want, even if I know I'm never getting any of it. Half the fun is drooling over the pretty toys.

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I should be working, but now that my brain has gone there, I'm gonna go watch bike videos. BECAUSE THEY'RE EDUCATIONAL, DAMMIT.

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It's gonna be one of these. Domane SL5 or the Orbea Avante M20. If I choose by color, the purple wins hands down. But the Orbea has better components. So we'll see. Hopefully I can find a place to test ride the Orbea this summer.

31 March 2020

I have enough hair now that I don't feel freaking cold all the time, and I'm willing to wander outside without something on my head. Basically staying at home since St. Baldrick's has made things easier this year...very few outings means far fewer side glances and pitying looks from people who just assume.

Chuckles and her glowboy held up their end of the deal. In exchange for the neon green and rainbow hair, they coughed up another $1000 in a direct donation to StB's.

And yes, I'm in the same shirt...I swear, I have changed clothes since then.

20 March 2020

We're taking the whole shelter-in-place thing seriously. I fall into a couple of risk groups, so minimizing my exposure to other people is a good idea. And the Spouse Thingy works in a hospital, so us wandering around exposing ourselves to other people is a bad idea. Well, not that kind of exposing, your freaks. You know what I mean.

Since I'm not riding to Starbucks with my trusty laptop, I'll be working from home exclusively. So we swapped a couple of rooms (really...90% of that was to clean them both) and now I have a brighter, more open space to work in.



Max has a socially distant enough spot from which he can dictate. If he feels like getting closer, there's always the red chair. Or the stool right in front of my desk. Or the desk itself, since that cub is there to make it easier for him to get up there and lounge on the Gizzy quilt.

The bike is a reluctant addition. I had one in the living room, but it blocked the fireplace, and the last few nights we've wanted it. I rolled that bike into the garage, thinking I wouldn't need it anyway. It's nice enough to ride outside, and that's still an okay thing to do.

But.

But.

My brain keeps going to the rules recently imposed in Italy and France, where cycling isn't allowed right now. The reasoning? You wreck on your bike, there's a chance you'll need an ambulance, and then a hospital bed, and those are in short supply right now. Leave the beds for the sick.

My brain also goes back to the bide ride a few years ago when I passed out. I didn't get back on a bike for a long time, and then it was baby steps back to really riding. I still have the same medical issues I did then; I recognize the symptoms better now, but if I'm alone...? I'm not chancing it. A couple weeks ago, the risk seemed acceptable. I ride around town, where someone else is bound to notice if I need help. I've had it in my head that even if I go down, I won't just lie there for very long.

Not gonna do that to anyone right now.

So when the Spouse Thingy is sleeping off his night's work, I'm limiting myself to riding indoors. His days off, we can venture around the neighborhood.

The whole social distancing and isolating isn't going to be hard for me--I'm pretty introverted as it is, and I enjoy the quiet and solitude more than is probably healthy. What I'll miss is heading for the outlet mall just to wander around, riding to Starbucks to work, or going somewhere to people watch. But, it won't be hard...and I do feel for those of you who are extroverted and for whom this is honestly painful.

I've noticed a lot of posts from people disappointed that their races--running or biking--have been canceled, and there are always "I shouldn't feel like this" mentions.

Yes, you should feel like that.

You're allowed to be disappointed about missing events you were looking forward to, even while you embrace the idea that what we're doing collectively is a good thing. Your disappointment doesn't mean that you're angry that we all have to stay home; it means you had something you wanted to do and now you can't because of something totally out of your control, and that's normal.

Don't measure your event against someone else's. Your canceled race might not be, in the grand scheme of things, as 'important' as someone's graduation, but it's still your disappointment. It's not a competition. Feel what you feel. Then wash your hands.

Tomorrow I'm going to hand in the final draft on the first Wick Shorts book, work on the second, ride my office bike to nowhere, read, watch some TV, and try to ignore the fact that there are two different cake mixes in the pantry, and they're both calling my name.

I'm staying home, avoiding cooties, and please listen to me when I tell you that the Spouse Thingy, who knows a thing or two, is farking scared where this virus is concerned. Take it seriously. You might not get sick, but you might wind up a carrier, and friends...it's people like me who wind up kicked in the nuts.

18 March 2020

I began writing my first book when I was 14. It was published when I was 40--a lesson in not giving up. It was also a lesson in publishing as a whole, how badly one can be treated by the industry, and how absolutely necessary an editor is.

My first two books suffer from poor editing. I know that. If I could go back a rewrite them, I would...but that would not be fair to the people who paid good money for them, and there are enough that doing it would be a selfish move on my part. Bragging aside...it's a lot of a lot.

[Horrible glee on my part: the original publisher went under, which means the rights are mine to do with what I wish.]

Still...I kept writing, through five books in the series, and each one is better than the previous. The last two, definitely a lot better. The last one, the best.

The Charybdis Novels are mainstream fiction, unlike Max's light sci-fi series. I don't write heavy literary fiction; I write--basically--literary junkfood.

So now that I've totally undersold my early writing career...for the next week, they're yours for the taking. Just follow the link to Bookfunnel, where you can download them for whichever digital device you have. The files are in ePub and Kindle formats, which covers all the bases. If you don't have an e-reader, you can download the Kindle app onto just about any tablet, phone, or computer, and still get them.

For free. The link expires on March 25th.

CLICK HERE

12 March 2020

I'm bald, my head is cold, and -- laugh if you want -- we're prepping a bit.

The dye job on the hair turned out pretty good. Good enough I kinda wished I'd done it a few days earlier to enjoy it.

But, that was not to be. The event was not canceled, though not nearly as many people were there as in years past.

Usually by the time we get there, about half hour before everything is supposed to start, the bar is packed and it's impossible to get a table. This time, we walked in and got one right off the bat...and DKM bought me a shot of Fireball, either to celebrate or steel the nerves.

Either way, one shot was all it took given that I hadn't eaten since breakfast. I was a tiny but buzzed for the next half hour. And that turned out t be fine since things were delayed a half hour. I'm not sure if they were waiting for more people to sign in or what,  but we waited outside from 5 until 5:30, when things finally got rolling.

In the end, my rainbow hair was gone and my head was cold. I showed up as promised, in neon green, down to my shoes and socks, and y'all helped me raise $3500 this year.

The event raised $150,000 which brings their total--since they started doing this--to 2 million.

Will I do it again? I wanted to hit year 7, when I would be knighted. I figured I'd stop after that. But I dunno...it's a good cause. I hate being bald, but the hair will grow back. I hope. I have time to decide, and I will by Ocober, I think.

Many, many thanks to everyone who donated and spread the word!

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 A couple weeks ago, we ordered a case of TP. Got a little mocking for it, but we didn't clear out the local store. We ordered it online. We tend to buy some things in bulk--TP and paper towels--so this wasn't a whole lot more than we would have bought at Costco.

But, yeah, we are preparing a little bit. We're not panic buying and going nuts about it, but we're stocking up on a few extras when we go grocery shopping, and want to have 2-3 week's worth of food on hand
by the middle of next week.

Yep, today when we were in Walmart we bought 4 cans of soup to the 1 or 2 we usually get, extra kitty litter and cat food, two jars of peanut butter instead of one...the cart was full when we were done, and we got a few looks for what was really just a slightly heavy grocery run.

Mock if you like. But consider this:

The Spouse Thingy works in a hospital. One where patients have been quarantined, not far from the OR. It's probably not a matter of if he's exposed to COVID-19, but when. We not only want to be prepared for the phone call that tells him he has to self-quarantine at home (which would effectively do the same to me; if he's exposed, I'm exposed, and I will not go out risking anyone else), we need to be prepared. And if he winds up being stuck at the hospital, I won't mind having a loaded pantry because chances are I'm not going anywhere.

We're going to be ready to be stuck at home for a couple of weeks. That's not a bad thing. 

Consider that a lot of the people you're making fun of for stocking up are doing it for similar reasons. Yes, even in Italy the grocery stores are open, but that doesn't help if you can't leave the house. People with a significant risk of exposure, people who are immunocomprised, and people who need to not risk exposure and are staying home have good reasons to stock up.

Sure, it's likely that most people who buying insane amounts of TP and bottled water are doing it out of a knee-jerk reaction, but you don't really know that when you watch them in the store, buying things. Consider that you don't know their story, and they might have valid reasons. You don't know how many people they're buying for, or why, really.

A month from now, I really hope it turns out we didn't need to do a damn thing. But the food will still be edible, and we won't really have to shop for a while. And that's a win.

6 March 2020

With just 3 days until St. Baldrick's, it was time to dye the stripes into my hair...

My hair has not been this long in years...

The stripes are wider than originally intended, because we wound up using cheap toothbrushes for ease of getting the gunk onto my hair.

Also, my scalp is going to be *so* stained LOL

BUT

Y'all donated nearly $2300 for research into childhood cancers, and if I show up to the event Monday wearing neon green jeans, shirt, and shoes, there's another $500 coming.

Tell ya what, if this dries nicely, I might have to do it again for the hell of it.

I suspect it's going to kinda of moosh together, but hey! It'll work!

28 February 2020

Year 2's leprechaun kisses

Ten more days until St. Baldrick's.

I have not yet bleached my hair, the first step in neon green with several colorful stripes, though I had planned on having that done by now...mostly so I didn't get my head shaved with lots of stains on my scalp.

But.

There have been two cases of COVID-19 of unknown origin that popped up here in the last couple of days, and people are, understandably, on edge about it. Granted, I'm not quaking in my boots, but I accept that it's out there and it's going to get worse before it gets better. But because it's out there and spreading, a lot of events have been canceled, and I'm waiting on dyeing the hair to see if St. Baldrick's will happen or not.

As far as I know right now, it will. But just in case, I'm waiting on the hair dye until shortly before the event. I'll wind up with scalp stains, but I can live with that. And I'm really hoping it's NOT canceled because...hell, this is year 7 for me and I've raised more than my goal, and as much as I don't want to be bald I do want to go.

Also, I want my freaking t-shirt.

It's all about the t-shirt.

18 February 2010

MY DISH IS EMPTY!!!

Max is 99.99% better...no real limp, though every now and then he steps carefully, like he's testing his weight on his paw. We were able to avoid a vet visit, which is traumatic for him, so hopefully that's it until his next checkup. due in June, I think.

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Three weeks to St. Baldrick's. I'm still doing stripes in my hair, one color for every $10 donated, donor's choice (there's a post on my FB fundraising page, you can leave your choices there) but I had a huge donation with the caveat that I show up in neon green. Neon shirt, neon jeans. I shot back: toss in more and I'll show up in neon green shoes, too, my hair mostly neon green, and even undies. 

So we're technically at $2100 or so, with $1000 more promised if I hold up my end of the bargain.

There's still time to donate! Just click here.

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Years ago, I stopped riding after I passed out while on the bike. I had some serious issues with reactive hypoglycemia and frankly, was a bit afraid to ride and have it happen again. Then came the neon pink electric, which gave me a sense of control over the matter--if I felt like I was in trouble, I could crack open the throttle, not pedal, and get home quick.

Then came the string of other bikes, some still in the garage, some not. And the new one, the favorite, the one for which I have basically abandoned the pretty pink bike. I'm still getting comfortable on it, but I can ride about as fast as I did on the electric with the pedal assist set to level 1 or 2, my heart rate gets into the mid 140s, right where I want it, and I just dig the hell out of it.

But today...first time in a long time I've felt super not right while riding. At first I thought I'd pushed too hard right out the gate, so to speak. Then I thought I was just overheated, and headed home to leave my track pants in the garage. That helped, but something was still off. I wasn't done riding, though, so we headed home in search of Lifesavers, just in case it was my blood sugar.

No Lifesavers, but a sample pack of Jelly Belly Jelly Beans. I chewed those up, swallowed, and we went back out...where I suddenly felt great. I struggled through the first five miles; the only thing that made me stop at 10 was a sore tushy.

I wear padded bike shorts, but somehow on one side the padding shifted and it was my inner groin against the seat, and that freaking hurt. But 10 miles was good enough, and the first half reminded me that I still have issues and I damn well better pay attention to them.

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Probably won't get time tomorrow, but I think I'm putting a new saddle on that bike. I've given the stock saddle a couple hundred miles and it's still not great, and I have two in the garage worth trying. A Selle Italia and a Terry Butterfly. So, we'll see. I'm not sure how much effort I want to put into a bike that I'm surely going to upgrade in a few months.

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We're in the home stretch of the first book of Wick Shorts. There's still some editing to do, but cover art is in the works. And unless there's a last minute hiccup...new publisher. Yay.

8 February 2020

Today's plans kinda flew out the window. I did not jump on my bike, head to Starbucks, where I then pounded out a best seller.

Instead, I stayed home, keeping a wary eye on Max, who was limping badly.

Yesterday, he had a tiny limp, as if he had jumped off the bed or sofa and pulled a muscle. It didn't seem to bother him, but I made a mental note, and when he was curled up on my lap I checked between the pads on his feet to make sure there was nothing jammed up in there. He has, a few times, wound up with clumps of dried litter that make him walk funny, and I hoped that was all it was.

It was not.

Today the limp was more pronounced. He ate enthusiastically, though he requested a different morning snack because what I offered was not acceptable. So...perfectly normal.

Still, I felt like I needed to be here. He curled up on his bed under my desk, and stayed there. By the time lunch rolled around and he hadn't gotten back up, I went to check on him. He grunted, sighed like I was annoying, and went back to sleep.

Okay, then.

An hour later I opened a can of cat food because Buddah was howling, and that drew Max out. He ate happily and went right back to bed, but it occurred to me that I hadn't seen him drink and he hadn't gone to the litter box. It also occurred to me that I often didn't see him do that in the afternoon, but...

He ate again after the Spouse Thingy got up. We turned the fireplace on early, which I knew would draw Max into the living room where I could actually see him. He slept just fine, but by then I was obsessing...I wanted him to drink. The Spouse Thingy took water to where he lounged, and he drank some. Quite a bit, actually.

So when late snack time rolled around, I carried him to the kitchen because it seemed mean to make him walk. When he was done I carried him to the fountain, which he refused, and then to the litter box, which he used.

Cripes, you're annoying, lady...

The whole time I told myself that I was overreacting. Other than the limp, he seemed fine. Eating, drinking, peeing... But it was bothering me, because a guy that old, what might a limp mean, if not a pulled muscle? My brain was already racing ahead to tomorrow; the vet is closed but there's an emergency clinic 10 miles away. I was fully prepared to haul him in if it was worse.

Then came night snack (yes, he eats 5-6 times a day) and he wandered into the kitchen on his own, I watched him walk and thought his right front foot looked a little different than his left, but it wasn't swollen. I put the food down, he dug in, and then in one horrible flash, I remembered.

Thursday while I was scooping out his afternoon snack, he got underfoot.

I stepped on him.

He didn't scream, just gave a tiny WTF yelp. I didn't STEP on him, just felt my heel coming down on his foot; I stopped before I really stomped. It didn't bother him enough to run and he inhaled his food, as if nothing had happened.

But I did step on him.

He finished eating and then sat back to look up at me. I apologized, because that has to be why his foot hurts.

He was not impressed.

Before I could pick him up, he turned and started walking away. Still limping, but determined. He went to the back of the house, where there's another desk to nap under, and I got the message.

Leave me alone. I'm not dying; it's just an owie from your giant boat-foot.

Still...I suspect Monday morning we're taking him to the vet to get it looked at. Then he'll really hate me.

7 February 2020

This was a bit of an ouch. My shoulder feels like this though I don't see any bruising. My hip is not happy. My right index finger is a lovely shade of purple today.

All because two days ago I tried to roll up onto a sloped curb (think end-of-driveway thing), one I've gone up a couple hundred times before, and had just the wrong angle.

Down I went.

I landed hard on my left side and apparently my shin took the brunt. Nothing is broken, but when I walk it feels like sandpaper going over a sunburn...even without pants on. It hurts to move my left arm and sleeping on it has been iffy, but...

But...

It's really not too bad. I couldn't ride yesterday and decided it was probably not in my best interests to ride today, but tomorrow? I'm getting on and taking the long way to Starbucks, where I will do some rewriting and editing to the first 5 Wick Shorts, and then take the long way home.

Falling totally ruined my ride-every-day thing I wanted for February, but there's always March.

Oh, and they remodeled my Starbucks. It's nice and bright now, but not too bright. The tables are too small, but the barista mentioned the table tops will be changed from the tiny round ones on the floor right now to square ones this weekend, and if they do that, I'll be happy.

I really liked the way it was before, but this is nice.

I mean, it's not like they'll change it back just for me, so I have to get used to it. But still, it's nice.

And the new comfy chairs are a lot comfier. As long as you're not trying to balance a computer on your lap to furiously type out your new next bestseller...

Oh. My goal for tomorrow...check to see if the bathrooms were remodeled, too.

If they were, I hope they kept it the same footprint. Just because.

25 January 2020

Somewhere around mile 5 I pulled over and stopped to get a drink, because I am still not coordinated enough on this bike to pull the water bottle out while I'm moving. And it was a good excuse to get my heart rate down a little; I'm trying to keep it around 145 and it was pushing into the 150 range. So, a short 30 second break seemed ideal.

Walking along the path near the street was an older guy with his tiny little dogs; I see them out frequently, so much that when we pass we nod at each other. Today he stopped, and I was happy because of tiny yappy dogs trying to greet me.

Him: I swear, you change bikes as often as I change underwear.
Me: =blink=
Me: You've only changed your underwear 6 times in the last 10 years?
Him: =blink=
Him: All right, you win.

My day is made. I win. Puppies + a ride + finally thinking fast enough is a total victory.

24 January 2020

In 1997, I found myself in what felt like a nonstop stream of pain. It wasn't awful--I could mostly function--but it was persistent, enough that after a few months of it, I sucked it up and went to the doc.

One doctor's appointment led to another, then another, then a referral to a specialist, then another doc...and after about 6 months of it, I had a diagnosis. I had no idea what to do about it. The so-called specialist swore it would run its course in 9-12 weeks. The other doctors kind of shrugged and intimated that I was basically stuck with it. Exercise, diet, figure out what makes it worse, and suck it up.

The thing is, none of those doctors, as well meaning as they were, really had a clue about it. I was left to my own devices, and did what everyone was beginning to do in the late 90s: I went online to research it.

I don't remember how I found the newsgroup, but it was there, and exactly what I needed. Alt.med.fms. And there I found people who had been living with it, and while they had no real answers, because there were no real answers, they listened.

I made some close friends there, people I emailed back and forth with multiple times a day, people who got me through those first years and who just got it. They understood my pain, they commiserated when other chronic pain issues were dropped at me feet, they championed me through a brain tumor, and together we mourned losses that none of us ever expected.

Many of them are gone now. But Fran was still around, and we connected on Facebook several years ago. We were both older, hopefully wiser, and missed those friends who were gone. She was dealing with a whole lot more than chronic pain, and was on dialysis, for years. Last year, she was in and out of the hospital, and as a nurse knew that was not where she wanted to be or would do best, I think.

On January 1st, she posted to Facebook that she was done. She was ending dialysis, and understood that meant she had just a few weeks to live.

I respected the hell out of her decision, and knew that I might never know when her last days were. I just wanted her to go in peace, the way she wanted, not hooked up to tubes and other things. She wanted out on her own terms, and I wanted that for her.

This morning I learned that she died just 10 days later.

It hit me hard. She was funny as hell and just as sarcastic. She didn't suffer fools lightly. She was kind and compassionate, and made a huge difference in my life. And I will miss her, and I will mourn her, but not too long or she might find a way to haunt me.

If you're the drinking sort, tip back a glass for her tonight. She wasn't religious, but I don't think she would object to a prayer in her name. Or send Mojo, it's all the same. But think of her, and wish her spirit well.

Her name was Fran McCarthy, 1941-2020, and she was my friend.

22 January 2020

Oddz-N-Endz #732,876,149.829842

I'm sitting here waiting for the FedEx guy. There are a couple dozen things I could be doing while I wait, but really I'm just bouncing around online because why would I use this time to be productive? I mean, sure, the kitchen is a disaster and I haven't vacuumed in over a week, and there are 3 loads of laundry to be done. But...eh.

♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦♦

I have 6 weeks until this year's St. Baldrick's Shave-a-thon. That's 6 weeks to raise money for children's cancer research. I will probably get a little more obnoxious with my fundraising between now and then...and this year, for every $10 you donate, you get to pick a color strip for my hair. I'm going to show up looking FABULOUS if there are enough donations.

My goal this year is $1900, right about what was raised last year. This is an event I both love and hate; I love the purpose, what the funds are used for, but I honestly, seriously hate being bald.

I also hate being cold, and with no hair...yeah, your head gets freaking cold.

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A while back, probably in a I-don't-do-resolutions kind of post--I looked but I can't find it--I waxed unpoetically over the things I wasn't going to do to get into better shape and to get healthier. No extremes. Nothing like Paleo or Keto. No Jenny Craig. Nope.

Yeah, well. Lack of progress happens. I mean, I'm in better shape now than I've been in years, but the weight has been stubborn and I'm kind of fed up. I've aimed for under 1400 calories a day, I work out, but in a year I lost no weight. And then between August and the holidays, I gained back 5 of what I had previously lost.

It's tiny, but seriously tasty

So. Yep, I decided to do what I said I wasn't, just to shake things up. Other than the expense, there really didn't seem to be a reason to not give Nutrisystem another try, and then it was only an expense if I kept buying other foods. So, about 15 years after trying it the last time, I jumped back on the wagon.

And peoples...in 15 years the food has seriously improved. I think in the first 4 weeks I only tried two things I absolutely hated, and a whole lot of things I seriously enjoyed.

I've dropped the 5 pounds I gained last year, so fingers crossed I keep heading that way. I have 35-40 more I'd like to get rid of, and I'd like to hit that goal by my birthday. At the very least, I'd like to have lost 20-25 by my next endocrinologist appointment.

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This isn't about hating fat people or not accepting that there are different body types and we're all perfect the way we are. This is about me. And my comfort level. My perceived fitness and healthiness. It's not about you. So please, no "but losing weight never works, people never keep it off." You do you, and I'll do me.

The current version of me feels like life will be more comfortable another 40 pounds lighter.

Now, I've lost 50-60 pounds and kept it off for over a year. If I don't keep it off, it'll be because I decided I enjoy eating more, plain and simple. But I know that won't make me happy, because I'm really not happy with my body right now. So if you're still itching to tell me it won't work, eh, don't. Find another way to scratch that itch.

I am having a lot more fun now that I can move better.

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And yay, the FedEx guy just rolled up. That means that as soon as I unload all the frozen food, I can go outside and play. And then when I get home, face major indecision about what I want for lunch because I have CHOICES. Tasty, tasty choices.

20 January 2020

New Bike Day!

2020 Trek Domane AL2, magenta-ish (quite a bit less magenta than I expected, but it's not gray or black, which I really didn't want...)

I picked it up around 3 this afternoon, and after some adjustments, went straight home and took it for a short 5 mile ride. I wanted to ride two to three times that, but it was freaking cold and I had a bit of an issue with my gloves sticking to the bar tape on the bars. I ordered a new pair with less sticky stuff on the palms, and those should be here by my next ride.

That would be tomorrow, but it's supposed to be cold and rainy, and I'm not taking this out in the rain. At least not until I'm used to it. And today's short ride told me I need to get used to it.

I haven't had a bike with drop bars since I sold my junior-high-purchase Schwinn Continental somewhere around my junior year of college. Then the shifters were on the downtube, now they're part of the brakes. And there aren't additional brake levers across the handlebars, which I kept reaching for today.

Mostly, though, this bike is light. It's right at 21 pounds; of my other bikes, the lightest is 27, and those 6 pounds make a huge difference. Hell, the pink electric is around 60 with the battery in, and I've ridden it without the motor going. I don't recommend that, BTW. That's a lot of bike to haul.

Fingers crossed that Wednesday isn't super windy. It's not suppose to rain, but with my luck, the wind will move in, and I really want to take this for an extended ride.

12 January 2020

I was going to let yesterday's 51.5 miles stand, but other than the front of my knees, I didn't wake up sore today.

So.

I finished it off.

62.5 done over 3 days.

Oh yeah, I am totally rounding up from 62.4 because there was some rolling around a parking lot waiting for the Spouse Thingy to show up to our appointed meeting spot.

10 minutes of rolling counts for something.

Right?

Totally does.

If I am smart, tomorrow I'll swim instead of riding, but we all know how intelligent I am, so...

11 January 2020

I started around 10am and stopped at 3:15, because my poor asterisk couldn't quite take any more time on the saddle.

Still... 51.55 miles done over 5 hours, with two short breaks in there to get more to drink and grab some lunch.

I might do the other 8.5 tomorrow (if I can even move) but truthfully...that's about what I would have done on the 3 Day--more, actually, because I would have swept a couple of times--so I'm probably calling it done.

The rest of today will be spent trying to not eat everything in the kitchen, because I am wicked hungry but also don't want to take in more than I burned today.

To those who donated, I sincerely thank you, and hope this is enough to make up the miles I missed. Right now, my backside says I am never doing this again, but I know me. Give me a few weeks and I would be willing.

Maybe. LOL

Next up...this bad boy.

The bike shop didn't have it in this color, so I ordered it yesterday. It's very much an entry level road bike, and the idea is that if I take to it--riding drop bars doesn't kill my back--I'll upgrade later in the year. And the Spouse Thingy is willing to give it a try, too, so who knows. Later this year we might be buying two bikes.

I have a feeling this bike will make me wish I were 20 years younger. Or 30. Back when I was in great shape and could have taken off for 30 mile rides without thinking about it.

Now, I have to think.

A lot.

And damn...I just had dinner, and I am really hungry again...

10 January 2020

All righty.

I promised 60 miles to make up for the 60 I didn't walk in November, so tomorrow I'm heading out on my bike and getting started on doing that.

Now, the 3 Day is just that--the 60 miles are done over 3 days. I'm going to attempt to do them in 2 days.

Attempt being the key word here. I know I can do 30 in one day, so fingers crossed that I can do 30 on the second day. Just as on the official 3 Day, I will do as many as I can, as safely as I can.

The plan is to take breaks every 10 miles, more often if I need to. And I'll be riding here in town, endless loops with some criss-crossing through residential areas, so I know where I can stop to eat and drink. The Spouse Thingy will be home, a phone call away.

So. Cross your fingers that I don't get a flat or run over by some half-blind driver.

It'll be slow going compared to other riders, but I'll get it done. And then I am going to call it a free day and eat whatever the hell I want. Because...mad calories burned, I hope.

Also cross tour fingers I sleep tonight. Insomnia sucks.

4 January 2020

In 2 months plus a few days, this will be me again. Shaved head, both happy and unhappy about it. It will also be my 7th year participating in St. Baldrick's so instead of just asking for donation and then letting one person pick whatever weird hair color I have to show up in, I'm letting all y'all pick.

This is what I'm gonna do: a week or so before the event, I will bleach my hair white-blonde. And then for every $10 you donate, you get to pick a color.

Donate $100, you get to pick 10 colors. They can be all the same, they can be different, but they need to be in a range of dyes I can get access to--neon pink, red, blue, purple, black, orange, green...if I can find it, I will do it.

I last cut my hair in October and won't cut it again until then, so there should be enough hair to get a whole lot of dye onto.

It would be nice if it resulted in an hombre effect, but I'm pretty sure it'll just be a plethora of stripes. Definitely mock-worthy.

So, here we go. It's time to start begging for donations. So I'm begging.

The goal this year is $1900, roughly what we raised last year. And this year, I'm anointed a Knight of the Bald Table! I have no idea what comes with that other than being a title for a 7th year, but hey. I AM THE KNIGHT.

1 January 2020

I am kicking myself...I meant to grab a screen shot of my total mileage for 2019, but I completely forgot until after midnight, when the numbers rolled over to a big fat ZERO.

As of November 20th I was at 2002.6, which got me over my goal for the year, but still. The last time I looked I was in the 2200 range, but that was before Christmas and I can only guess that I did another 50-75 (on foot, not the bike, surprisingly.)

I've committed to a couple of Run the Year things for this year. 2020 miles by December 31, 2020. But I think I want to shoot for 2500--something doable but perhaps just out of my reach. I want to stretch to get it.

But...no resolutions for the year. Goals, yes, resolutions, no.

As always, I just want to get healthier and fitter. The need for this smacked me in the face this week, when one friend announced to our common friends that she's done, and ending dialysis. Which means she'll be gone soon. She knows this; she was a nurse for as many years as I've been alive, I think. I met her on a Fibromyalgia newsgroup; she and a few others, people who became true friends all those pre-Facebook years ago, took me by my virtual hand and led me through the beginnings of dealing with chronic pain.

She's witty, sarcastic, funny, took no crap from other people, and she loves her family hard.

I respect the hell out of her decision. She's been in pain for decades; she's been on dialysis for years. Last year she was in and out of the hospital. She's tired. She's done. I accept what she wants, I respect how hard the decision was. But I will miss the hell out of her.

Another friend posted yesterday that she's had a heart attack. She's not old. Not much older than I am. So it was a shock. If you believe in prayer or Mojo or the power of hope, send it her way. Her name is Jane; she's a teacher, the kind you want your kids to have. The kind you want to have. The ethereals in charge of directing those wishes will get them where they need to be, I think.

And today I read a post from a total stranger who was reaching out for help. Thirty years old, and on the day after Christmas he was told by his doctor that if he didn't do something now, he probably won't see 2021. So he decided to go for it, took an old bike out of storage, and headed out with the idea that he would start small. Just a mile or two.

He got to the end of his driveway and had to stop. Spokes in his rear wheel  popped, one went into the chain, wrapped around the cogs, and things just...broke. He swallowed his embarrassment--he admitted, he was horrified and terrified and very glad no one else witnessed it or the crying jag that resulted--and asked for help. He was pretty sure the damage was significant, enough to make repairs cost more than another bike. But what was the point? It would just happen again. And he couldn't afford a new one, not one that would take his weight.

My heart broke for him. He's so freaking young, and is just afraid that this is his last year; and what if he's much closer to the end? What if his wakeup call came too late?

Others who read the post reached out. Some are local to him; he'll have a new-to-him, stronger bike by this weekend. People to ride with. People who offered to teach him to cook.

It's not a resolution, not some platitude to be discarded like New Year's Eve confetti when it gets to be too irritating. One friend is letting go; that's resolve. Another is fighting; that's resolve. A stranger reminded me of where I don't want to be by having the courage to tell his story; he is resolute in his determination.

New Year's Day is about refocusing, not making tough promises that feel like failure when you reach for a cookie or skip a gym day. It's opening yourself to the stories other people have to tell you, and listening. Learn from them.

All I want is to be better at taking care of myself. I say it every year, and I'm getting a little bit better each time.

And that's enough.

29 December 2019

This year will go down in the books as a nice, quiet year, one in which nothing major happened that I can recall, and the one in which I developed an obsession with bikes. I bought three; one was a mistake and will be going up for sale soon, one is just outright fun, the other is versatile but is now inside on the trainer so that I have something to do on days when I'm too delicate to face the great outdoors.

This is the one I should not have purchased. Don't get me wrong; it's smooth and super functional, but it rides too much like my pink bike, and if I want that ride, I ride the pink bike. This one literally has fewer than 15 miles on it. Probably closer to 7 or 8.

I thought I wanted it for the better gear range than my Townie 7D (the little blue grocery-getter) but it turns out the Townie is like how riding feels when you're 10 and out just to have some fun. I tend to grab it when I'm out running around, avoiding the car. I wouldn't want to tackle a hill on it, but it's great for riding around town.

What I'm itching to get is a road bike. One that will be nothing but ride-to-ride, no fenders or panniers, no rear rack. Just the bike, to go as hard and fast as I can (which, admittedly, isn't very hard or very fast.) If I can sell the white bike, I'll put those funds toward this:

Trek Domane AL2, women's version in magenta. I want.

It's an entry-level endurance bike, and given that I'm not going to race or even join group rides, it's about as much bike as I'll ever need (want...that's a different story. I want a Domane SL5, rage red, but it's spendy.) I don't really have the core strength for drop bars (or at least for utilizing them effectively) but by riding them I should develop that core.

I'd like this one even more, but at $3000...nope

In the meantime, I've taken over part of the garage. On Monday the workbench I ordered will arrive and will join the bike mechanic's stand I already have, and the tools the Spouse Thingy got me for Christmas, and using the book the Boy gave me for my birthday, I will start learning how to fix things on an older bike that's been sitting out in the back yard.

That's the goal for 2020: learn how to repair my favorite toys, especially how to fix flats and broken chains on the fly, and then ride until my asterisk falls off.

It says something that my goal for the year has more to do with playing that working. But on the professional front: two volumes of Wick shorts, along with a bunch of other writing that needs to get done. And then begin the sculpting of the next series of books, which will jump forward several years...Wick's not going anywhere, but it's time for the next generation.

I'm gonna have a fun year.

25 December 2019