Opportunistic

"EEP!" It's 8:30am, and the pets are stalking us as we go through our morning ritual in the kitchen.

Last night, GB and I went out to celebrate a really good interview experience I just had in Philadelphia. We don't know if I have the job yet, so it's good to celebrate while we can. I was fresh (well, actually I was ripe) off the plane, and HUNGRY. So we went out to Sushi. Yum!

This morning, we got up and went about our usual business of giving the animals their breakfast, and their various medicines. Ours is a fairly geriatric household. I told GB that at some point today, after we get groceries and get the mail etc, I want to go hike one of those beautiful trails off Old Germantown Road. "That's nice," GB said, teasing me, and then in his usual show of affection to let me know he's teasing, he gently smacked my ass in passing.

"EEP!"
I glared at him, "You know, you should be more gentle. Girls are delicate."
He quickly put me to rights. "No. Girls are for ass-smacking. Don't you know that?"

Transitions

This seems to be a big year for transitions. For example, I've moved in with my awesome boyfriend, and I've made some real changes in the way I spend my time and energy. I never thought I'd find a relationship worth compromising for-- but all good relationships require some compromises. I never thought I'd be happy without a solidly planned career path-- but I am. I'm even done with the first fully edited copy of my book. (Of course, it'll go through more changes once I find an agent/publisher.)

And oddly enough, I realized that one of the biggest and toughest transitions we face is death. I know and have known so many amazing and wonderful people-- and in the past few months, so many of them have been faced with the death of a loved one. It's a really tough thing. Hardest for those who remain behind when someone passes on.

Makes me realize that the most important thing we have to give in life is ourselves. Fully, authentically, and gratefully. My loved-ones have always been my number one priority. Today, for instance, I dropped everything and went to visit my wonderful friend Kim, and her 22 year old son, Aaron. He's come home from the hospital for now. And even though the list of things he can't do anymore continues to grow (eat, sleep, swallow, move, talk, breathe...) his sense of humor, and his stubborn determination to LIVE keeps shining through. I am in awe.

It's a difficult thing. Unimaginable. And yet, I know that even good transitions are difficult. Partly because we have to change, but also because we are often afraid of all those unknowns on the other side. I think we Americans are not trained to see change-- to see death-- as anything but fearful and dark. How do we change that? How do we make peace with the irrevocable turning of life's wheel? How do we gain an honest understanding of what we can change, and what we cannot? How do we forgive death from taking away a piece of our hearts?

I don't know. I do know that it has become important to me, over the past few years, to live every day of my life well. To be proud of what I've done, and who I've done it for, and how, and why. Tonight, I'll stay up late working on those emails and work proposals and client projects that I put off today. And it'll be worth it. Because today I spent time with two good friends that I might not get to see tomorrow. I let a mother cry on my shoulder. I participated in the conversation that let her son relive better times, and laugh. Today, I didn't let myself down.

Some people are forced to become adults before they even graduate high school. Some people become adults at thirty, or fifty, or sixty-five. Some people live long lives without ever really having an adult understanding of-- or taking adult responsibility for-- their lives and the lives they touch. It's an interesting transition.

Today, I called my mother on the phone, and cried, so that I could smile and tell funny stories when I visited my friends. And I'll stay up late working so that the other people who are counting on me to do my part and support their professional goals won't be disappointed. I don't want to let them down either.

So here's a toast-- and a hug-- to my friends and family. May you always be one-and-the-same, and may you always know how much I appreciate having you in my life. Whatever else is going on. Because- hey- change is the only constant we have. And the world is such a beautiful place to live.

RE: Judgement Day

I just received a comment on my last blog post from someone who clearly knew/knows me, or has spent a hell of a lot of time reading my posts. And they chose to be anonymous in their comment. The funny part is that the comments they made point out how LITTLE whoever it is actually knows me. I'm kinda sad about that, because they clearly have a very poor impression of me.

And since this is a personal blog, and I thought that the only people reading it were folks I'd given the url to in person... I'm taking the comment personally, and responding from a very personal place.

Sadly, I've recently (ie: in the last five years) had a few folks (and only a few) in my life decide that my reasons for making certain personal decisions-- or my ability to make good decisions in the first place-- were not good enough, because they knew what was best for me better than I did. So I'm a mite sensitive. And I'm taking the comment seriously. However, the first version was way too long, so here's the edited-down version of my response:

----

After selling the house, and leaving the marriage, and failing to find the career I trained for, I spent a long time figuring out what "success" means to me in my life and the way I live. What *I* want to get out of my time on earth. How *I* take responsibility for my own happiness and wellbeing. I even had to figure out what style and color of clothing I wear when I'm not trying to fit someone else's expectations.

And it's not the narrow "has a nice house and a nice ass and nice a retirement account" view of things that we're taught is what you're SUPPOSED to want out of life. For example, I want to build my home out of straw bale, and live off the grid. And I work hard to do something that makes someone else's life better every day-- even if it's just smiling at a stranger or giving a can of soup to a homeless man. And I won't sacrifice my health, my dreams, or my integrity in order to look like I'm doing well, or to do what I'm "supposed to" according to someone else's rule book.

I don't post every day, as you may have noticed, so there is a lot of my life (good and bad and in between) that I've left out. If this blog is the only way you know me, it's a really narrow view, and I'm sorry. You're right. A lot of it is somewhat negative. And I'm usually laughing at myself through those ridiculous negative blog posts. If you don't know me, you might not pick up on that. So now you know. I expect you to read that post about my lack of sleep, and burst out laughing at how silly it is. I do.

My life is full of blessings. Every day I am alive is a blessing. Having a car and the money for gas is a blessing. Having the use of both my legs is a blessing. Getting to come home to a great friend like GB every night is a blessing. The rain that washes the earth clean is a blessing. Being able to find humor in stressful situations is a blessing. And I use that particular blessing a lot.

This blog is here for me to write about the ridiculousness of life-- good and bad. And it was meant only to be read by folks I know and love, and who know and love me-- just the way I am. Folks who I think can connect with this particular aspect of my personality and life. I've now visited my "settings" page, and discovered that my blog was public in a way I have never edited content for it to be. If I offend you here, or you find it difficult to love and respect me just the way I am, please stop reading this blog.

Trust me, I learned this the hard way many years ago. People change or not, at their own pace. They may come to those they trust and see as knowledgeable, and ask for help in making a change. But only when they realize their current way of being is unhealthy, see the value of that change, and are committed to making it happen themselves. And if you have a different value system from your friend-- it is disrespectful to expect them to change and share your exact same value system. It IS reasonable to ask your friends not to try and change you and your choices to fit THEIR lifestyle and moral standard.

So there we go. The short answer to your concern over my life choices is this:
--No, I don't think I'm repeating mistakes from my marriage right now.
--Well, actually, I had several great options for where to go when I decided to move. I was not in danger of becoming homeless. (Wow, you'd think the commenter was trying to be hurtful or something.)
--Yes, I do think that I'm in a stressful situation, actually, but Yes-- there are a lot of positives about it, too, that I didn't blog about. It won't always be stressful. I spend a lot of time enjoying my life and being grateful, and being introspective about everything, and that may not be in my blog because I'm too busy LIVING THE JOY and learning to be a better, happier person as I go.
--Actually, contrary to what you thought, my Life Coaching business still exists, but my goals for it in the next few years have changed. I'm not at all bitter about it. I'm excited to see what my life holds, and how it unfolds.
--I find myself and my life choices worthy of respect. I feel good about the decisions I've made and the reasons I've made them. If you are trying to make yourself feel better by finding problems with my life choices, there's some personal work for YOU to do there, chika, when you're ready. Contrary to your aim, the comment you made was neither loving nor insightful.
--Wait, what else did you suggest I was making poor choices about or failing at? I forget. I ranted in my blog (as I usually do), and deleted most of the rant (as I usually do), and now I'm over it so I can get on with all the other projects and deadlines and self-bettering goals and friendships and blessings and responsibilities that fill my life. I love my life.

YAY ME!

Funky

I'm still getting used to sleeping in this house, and not over in that one. I's been almost two weeks. And cn I mention how much hARDER it s to type with a cat chnin between your thumbs? Ew. She drooled on the keyboard.

First off, the dog's arthritis is acting up, so he has to have "fart pills" three times a day to manage the pain. Sometimes the smell alone is enough to wake you up at night. Then there is the fact that we also think he has irritable bowels, so sometimes he throws up at night. Only at night, mind you. And only at either 1:30am, or somewhere between 3:45-4:45am. The puking is always proceeded by a rather wet lip-smacking.

It sounds like this:
"shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk... shlmachk..."

Oddly enough, this sounds exactly like when the dog cleans between his toes-- which he also seems to do at either 1:30am, or somewhere between 3:45-4:45am. Until you yell at him for god's sake to either knock it off, or puke already, dammit!

And the cat.
The cat only jumps off the bed when standing next to GB's right shoulder. Not his stomach. Not his toes. Not on my side of the bed-- ever. And she walks straight from the crick behind my knees, across his bladder, and up to that spot by his shoulder. The jumping-down-for-a-midnight-snack spot. And then disappears into the closet to crunch her crunchy cat food. She usually gets hungry at both midnight, and somewhere close to 3am. And when she's about to jump up onto something, she let's you know. She's very polite. In that "SEE? SEE HOW POLITE I AM??" cat sort of way.

"Mprrt?" And then the soft thud of graceful cat paws on the bed. And the thud itself is mild enough to sleep through. But not the "Mprrt?" that always comes first. Then she has to walk around and see whose awake (and therefore available to sniff her breath, and have their face sneezed on and whiskers poked up their nose, and pet her) before settling back down on someone's legs.

And if there's silence in the bedroom for too long, the teenage cat-sisters on the other side of the bedroom door get worried. So they meow in high-pitched teenage girl voices, and scratch on the door until someone comes out to reassure them. Or yell at them.

Did I mention that our bedroom shares a wall with the only bathroom in the house? It does. And the roommate showers at 6:45 every morning. Except the mornings he showers at 6:15. And clears his nose (or maybe it's his throat) in the shower. Loudly. Some mornings it takes him a while to get it all out.

And don't get me started on the blanket-stealing situation. Just don't even get me started.

Turns out that except when he (or the dog) is snoring, GB is a lighter sleeper than I am. So every time I roll over, it wakes him up.
guilt. guilt. guilt.

So the good news is that if GB is still snoring, I know he's slept through whatever it was that woke ME up. And therefore if *I* yell at the offending party, we will both be woken up. Again.

By the way, GB is currently unsticking a new baby leaf on his beloved hanging plant behind me. It's been sitting there, half-unfurled, for three days. He couldn't take it any more.
GB: "It's stuck."
Me: "But it's getting bigger."
GB: "It's stuck."
Me: "Maybe it's still growing."
GB: "NO. It's STUCK."

And then he gently pulled the tiny green leaf away from the plant spine that birthed it, and unrolled the edges of the leaf so it could start getting sun and growing BIGGER! Now that it's unstuck. The 3-day-old baby leaf on his hanging plant.

I need sleep.

Whelmed

My family has a lot of inside jokes. "Whelmed" is one of them. Basically, if you aren't really OVERwhelmed, but are still coping with challenge, you're "whelmed."

On Friday, I was overwhelmed. Today, I'm just whelmed. See, I spent last week moving. Specifically, I spent it moving in with GB, my beau. And I'm not done yet. This is one of those moves where I had to specifically hold every little tiny hair clip, paper scrap, old T-shirt, etc, and decide if it was something I NEEDED TO KEEP. Then I had to look at it again and decide (if I'm not keeping it) HOW to get rid of it most effectively and responsibly (if I'm keeping it) whether it goes in storage or into the limited space of GB's 1-bedroom, no-living room apartment.

Plus there are two teenage cats with NO PARENTAL GUIDANCE living in parts of the house, and there's a hard-headed old alpha dog who MUST HERD CATS. So it's been a bit of a challenge carving out ways for MY cat to transition into the space. As it is, the cats are kept separate for now, but every time my kitty gets off the bed, the dog walks around a half-step behind her and looms with intent to play. She is not amused. Nor is she willing to offer up her butt for daily doggy inspection. The dog is very worried. Not only is he the only one in the household NOT allowed on the bed, but he hasn't gotten to sniff the cat's butt yet today.

The other two hellcats? A little after midnight they tried to jump from my computer keyboard across to the one 5x5 inch empty space on the top of my shelf unit. And knocked everything else off the top of the shelf in the process. Loudly. And if I ever CATCH them (this is not exactly likely-- they are very fast), they will LEARN not to mess with mama. sigh...

The good news is that GB fixed me a yummy breakfast yesterday morning, even tho it wasn't Sunday yet. And he's been very patient with all the boxes and stuff that hasn't found a home yet. Also, nothing broke when the hellcats rearranged my desk and shelf after midnight last night. And I have 25 pounds of fresh kittylitter in the passenger seat of my car. This is a very good thing. Especially since it's still in its litter bag, and I'll be able to bring it into the house later this morning.

And, can I tell you, for all the times I've gotten internet service, not once has it been simple to connect my Macintosh to the internet. There has always been a special fee or a special website that I had to visit and get special instructions. But last night? GB plugged in my Mac, plugged the other end to the router, and VOILA! I had internet.

Oh, happy day!

Ok. Have to go. Mobbed by two hellcats and a very concerned hard-headed old alpha dog. For all the immediate challenges, I can't help believing that this year is going to be a great improvement on 2009. It was such a relief for last year to END! So-- here's to a year that is merely whelming, and not overly so. With a lot of happiness and success mixed in.

Seasonal Sustenance

I feel so lucky to be dating a man who actually asks ME to go Christmas shopping with HIM. And who is secure enough (and loves his niece enough) to spend a whole 20 minutes in the pink-and-girly plastic-toys-with-hair aisle at a large and busy store on a Friday Night while we agonize over which MyLittlePony is the right one to give a well-loved four-year-old. And then he bought her two.

Also, there are three cats snoozing on my bed right now. Mostly because I turned the heater on in my room, and cats like to be warm. The grey boys are all curled up together in a ball on one end, and Abbigale rests in majesty on her heated pet-pad with the flannel pillowcase on it (washable) at the other end. And there is a bit of half-hearted eyes-closed paw-licking going on, which is the very best kind, except when they take turns cleaning each other's faces.

AND I think I've nearly gotten my monthly expenses for the new year down to something that one might actually be able to pay with a part-time or lower-wage job. It gives me options. And hope. And if I DO get a job that actually pays me what I'm worth-- then I'll be able to pay off all those darn debts THAT MUCH FASTER!! Which is a very exciting possibility.

Why is it that Christmas has become a time of death-gripping our concentration on money, of all things?! I find that appalling. I also recently found my "just-in-case" box of little gifts I picked up here and there over the past three years because I thought somebody might like them. And that box is saving my bacon this Christmas. YAY for being so excited about giving that I randomly buy maybe someone would like this gifts, and then store them until a time when I have no money and lots of people who need to know I love them. YAY!!! (and if you don't get a little gifty from me this year, know I still love you anyway...)

And the best news of the season? When I move in with GB, I'll get to bring most of my kitchen gear with me. And he'll treat it with the same careful respect he treats HIS stuff. I can't wait to have access to my kitchen gear again!! YAY!

And finally? I'm in the midst of the second step of the three-step process one goes through to make their book ready for publication. THE SECOND STEP, PEOPLE. As soon as I've gotten a solid 50 pages-- the first 50 pages-- ready to go, I can start applying for agents again. AND EVEN EXPECT TO GET ONE. It's going to be so awesome to finally see this book in print.

Well, 2009 was the Year of Integration. I wonder what 2010 will bring. I hope it's the year I get solid in my career. That'd be nice. Or maybe it'll be the year of being Centered and Balanced. Or the year of fruitful beginnings? I like fruit. Especially apples and dried bananas.

Seasonal Sustenance. What's in YOUR stocking this year??

Chaos

Back in middle school, I used to think that the word people said that was "kay-oss" was a totally different word-- with the same meaning-- from the written word "chaos," which I thought you said "ca-hoos." Everybody has a story about a word they mispronounced for years without knowing it. This is mine.

Fitting that it happened with that word, in middle school. That was such a chaotic time, really. And now? ...Now is also a rather chaotic time...

Jobberwhacky

So I'm applying for jobs. And after applying for jobs on and off non-stop over the past oh... FOUR YEARS... I'm kinda burned out on the whole job application thing.

But there's this guy whose specialty is helping folks get their careers going, and he has an awesome website that should give me some great tips to make me more successful this time around. And there's this job that just came open and sounds really perfect-- It's for a Communications Consultant at a local Community College. I'm so good at communicating, it's fugging AWESOME. And the application (all fifteen plus pages of it, including the short paragraph answers to each of eight different "describe this about your experience and training" questions) is due on Monday. Today is Saturday.

So I really need to get going on this. I want a job that keeps me excited and challenged, and that pays an actual living wage. I keep putting off applying for the housecleaning jobs because somehow, I really want a job that pays more than $10 an hour. Maybe my ego is getting in the way of my actually finding a job and working it again... but you know? I have a Master's Degree. And half of another Master's Degree. And I just came off six months of being the Executive Coordinator for a three-prong work project. Successfully. I deserve a high-paying high-responsibility job. I'd do well in a job like that, even.

Mostly, though, I know how hard it is to force myself out of bed every morning when I'm getting up for a job I don't like. And how hard it is to do a quality job on any daily tasks that I know your random stranger off the street could do just as well.

(insert brief pause and complete loss of mental track HERE when I am called to find housemate's keys, since I was the last one to see them-- when I pulled them from the outside door lock upon my return home this afternoon)

In other news, GB and I are discussing the logistics of moving in together. The most complicated bits seem to be internet access for yet another computer, and the fact that his housemate has two troublemaking teenage girl kitties, and I have one crochety declawed matronly girl kitty. And if we confine Abbigale strictly to his bedroom where they are not allowed, how will we keep her cat food away from the dog, while still making sure SHE can reach it, since she has arthritis and can't do a lot of jumping-- and the dog is rather tall. I think we'll figure out the whole computer thing. After all, GB used to set up cable systems for a living.

And, in the meantime, wish me luck on the job front. Again.

Purity Made Simple

I have a huge box of expensive face soap from Nordstrom. It's been sitting in my "extra toiletries" container for a year now, mostly because as soon as I invested in the 32-oz bottle, the darn soap stopped working on my acne. But I spent a lot of time and money making sure I had a great face soap, so I really don't want to throw it out. Even though I can't use it. Of course, these things are cyclical. I might be able to use it in another month or two. You never know.

I'm having similar experiences with many parts of my life just now. For example, as soon as I announced that I actually had full time employment with the Foundation/Farm... they ran out of money to pay me. But I spent a lot of time, energy, and gas money making sure the Foundation and Farm were as functional as I could make them, and investing myself in the visions and goals they espoused. So even though they can't pay me, I'm having a hard time letting go. And you never know-- they might be able to pay me again in a few months...

The face soap says "We come into this world with all the right instincts... and the world at large is truly beautiful. It is at this time we feel most blessed." To return to this natural state of instinctual well-being, the soap insists that "we must begin with the most basic step of all, the daily ritual of cleaning."

So here I am. Going through everything I own and figuring out what is dirty or just taking up space and energy without giving me any bliss in return. Cleaning up my life, a little bit at a time. I'm also job-hunting... again... and figuring out where I'll live come January. Because I can't afford the rent where I'm living now-- even if I do get another job. I have to use the bulk of my money paying off all the debts I racked up while I failed to make ends meet over the past four years. So a huge part of my process is cleaning up and simplifying my finances. Seeing a debt counselor. Talking about bangkruptcy. Finding ways to pay the people who can't wait.

The blessing that keeps showing up in my life is my friends. I feel so supported and loved. Over and over again, as my situation bounces up and down over and over again. It's amazing how many truly awesome people I know. And I don't think I'd have understood that (or had the same list of friends) four years ago when I thought the world was going to be my oyster.

The books have been the toughest thing to winnow down. And I know I'm not done yet. The first thing I did was decide I can only afford the space for one bookshelf right now. So all the books I'm going to keep with me, and all the things that sit on a surface and take up space, have to fit on that one bookshelf.

As I weighed the value of each book, and the space it fills in my life vs the space available on that one bookshelf, I realized that I don't re-read quite as many books as I like to think I do. Mostly, I think of many of these books as old friends, and it makes me feel good to see them sitting on the shelf because I found them so useful at one time. A bit like my face soap, really. So I keep them around just in case things change and I have a use for them again.

But at this point, the universe has hit me over the head hard enough that I not only suspect, but I KNOW that I have got to slim down and severely limit all the superfluous drains on my time, energy, and space. All the things that make me feel stuck or overburdened when it comes time to pick up and go yet again. I will probably rent a storage room for the things I know I will never be able to replace-- like the bed frame my parents slept in for 30 years, the bookshelf my dad made for me, and the boxes of books that I will actually consult occasionally, but don't need to lug from spare bedroom to spare bedroom over the next six months. I will probably sell or dump a lot of my extra toiletries-- things like that darn 32 ounces of soap that have been sitting around for the past year without ever actually being useful.

As part of the plan (while also applying for jobs daily), I'm going to consolidate everything into my room in preparation for the next big move. I'd like to know exactly what I own-- and right now there are boxes I haven't had the opportunity to open in over two years. It's a strange space to be in, knowing that if I had a reliable job and my own tiny apartment, I already own everything I'd need to be happy there... And finally admitting that just I don't have that, and may not have that for a while longer. Having to ask myself which of those beloved-but-currently-useless items are worth the cost (financial and energetic) of keeping.

I've come to realize that there are a few specific things that really contribute to my sense of contentment in a given living situation. One of those things is having and using my own kitchen gear. Another is having a workspace/desk that nobody else messes with. And being able to trust that my cat is safe, comfortable, and content whether I'm home watching out for her during the day or not. As I begin to condense both my living space and my finances, I also realize that there are two support systems that I need to KNOW I can always pay for-- my cat, and my cell phone. Abbigale cannot be replaced by other people's cats-- not the way I can use the computer in the library (which would still suck), or eat at a friend's table from time to time.

So here we are. Simplifying. Cleaning up old messes. Going back to basics. Realizing that while I prefer contact lenses, my glasses work just fine. Learning that "food stamps" are now referred to as the "SNAP" program. And they give you a credit card instead of a coupon book. Stocking up on rice and lentils because they are cheap and filling, and toilet paper because you can't buy that with the SNAP card. The times they are a-changing. I wonder how much money I wasted on that Nordstrom soap...

Granted

Last week was interesting. I feel confident that I can say YES-- I have a full time job now. I'm not so confident that I'll have it much longer if we don't find a way for the farm to produce some serious income in the middle of winter.

Technically, I'm the "Executive Coordinator" for the Farm, the Foundation, the Education programming that comes out of both, and to some degree also for the farm Community and Household. I asked the head of our Foundation Education Committee to look over the job descriptions that the three of us fleshed out for future reference, having filled in the details of what currently rests on my shoulders, and she said it was a perfect recipe for burnout. I agree.

Last week, I finally struggled through the last three days of writing and submitting a grant to the ubs govgt. The grant that may, in twelve months, pay for me to actually preserve, digitize, and web-ize the Foundation's Archive. You know, that job I was originally actually HIRED FOR six months ago. It's the first grant proposal I've ever written.

And boy-howdy was it a learning experience for the first one to be a govgt one! Before I could access the application packet, I had to apply for a DUNS number. And before I could apply for a DUNS number, there were one or two OTHER applications and passwords I had to request. Each of which took between 2 days and a week to get. And you can't skip steps.

Then, on the two days I'd set aside to write the grant, we first spent all day interviewing and meeting about our new Farm Manager (thank you god, she's on board for at least the next three months). The second day I spent doing last minute preparations for the Foundation Appreciation Dinner, and having conversations with my two team mates about the structure of our jobs so that I could, in fact, get on with my job without interference from She-Rex. Who-- I want to acknowledge-- is a vital and incredibly committed member of the team. I'm glad she's there. I just don't want her interfacing with clients. She has a tendency to make them run away.

So I set aside a day to work from home. And I did work from home all that day, but not on the grant. So I worked off the record the next day and a half-- on the grant. And I worked a full day (minus the two hours I spent meeting with the team because SR needed to make decisions about something that won't happen until next Spring) the day before the grant was due on pulling together the final application materials and the budget, and getting signatures where they were needed.

The day the application was due, my day off, I discovered that there was an ADDITIONAL APPLICATION FORM that was only available online, and that my computer operating system was too old to let me open. And then I spent the day at GB's house on HIS computer, swearing and filling out forms online. Then I discovered that the Budget Form (which is on a different website from the application form and application download site) can only be filled out online, and can't be saved once you fill it out, and has to be uploaded to the application download site, which you can only do if it's saved to your computer. AAAAAAARRRGHH!

I over came that hurdle, and got all the way to the place where you finally get to hit SUBMIT... only to discover that one must have a login and password to submit anything. WTF?

So I tried the first login and password I'd had to sign up for waaay back when I was applying for the fricken DUNS number. And was told no, that's wrong, and you have two more tries before we lock you and your application out of our system. Shit.

So I tried the second login and password I'd had to sign up for waay back when I was trying to get signed up to apply for this fricken grant. And was told, no, that's wrong, and you have one more try. Neener Neener Poopoo Head.

Okay.

So I called the govgt grant offices at 6:15pm Eastern Time for help, and SOMEONE HELPED ME!!!! She told me how to sign up for the login that lets you actually submit the grant application. And she stayed on the phone with me while I did it. And it only took two minutes instead of two weeks. And then I submitted my grant proposal, with three hours to spare before the deadline.

OMFG!!!

That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, I worked. On Thursday, I did accounts and worked and prepped for the Teacher Fair on Friday that I had a booth at, and organized a couple of new orders for our Big City Contingent of Dairy Buyers.

On Friday, I spent all day at the Teacher Fair, getting us tons of potential new Education Field-Trip Clients, and networking with other museums and historical sites in the area.

On Saturday, my one day off this weekend, I got an email that totally blew all my work with the Dairy Contingent out of the water, and basically put me in a position where the Dairy Contingent will probably not want to work with me because they don't think I know what I'm talking about. It was an email sent by my boss to me, the dairy contingent, and SR. I still don't know why SR got the email, as she's made it clear she wants nothing further to do with the dairy or the goats.

So I sent a not-happy email to my boss, explaining the effect of her email on my ability to help her with the Dairy Orders in the foreseeable future. Hard to help when nobody believes a word you say, non? And then I spent the rest of the day trying to pack and sort some of my stuff, and cleaning house, because it needs it.

Today, Sunday, I go to work again. We have a Foundation Board Meeting, and I have to arrive early so that I can prepare the materials and reports necessary for that meeting, and find out if I still have a job after the email I sent my boss.

Talk about your recipe for burn out! ...sigh... And I really love my work and this farm. So I really hope we overcome some of these challenges soon.

Well, that's all from Lake Woebegone this week, where all the women are strong, the men are good-looking, and all the children are above average.

Growing Up Good

I copied this post from the link below. I'm reposting it here because it gives me so much hope. (Much-needed hope!)
http://community.livejournal.com/library_mofo/1175117.html
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Non-mofo award
I've been meaning to mention this one for a while, but...

To the two-year-old twin girls who come in with their mom, so well-behaved, and clean up the children's area when they're finished playing, and always push in the chairs, and wait until we're done with the patron on the computer before showing us that wonderful book they found this time, that they're so excited about getting to read... Thank you. May you grow up just as wonderful as you are when you visit us...and just as generous.

We actually have a whole bunch of awesome little kids at work, but these two really take the cake. They came toddling in one day with their mom, nearly bouncing, and came up to return their books, and handed us a bag. Inside was the majority of their joint sticker collection. One of the things we've had to cut back on is fun kid-stuff, like coloring/activity pages, and the stickers the kids get at the end of their visit, at checkout. These two little girls visit with their mom regularly, and always ask for a sticker, like the other little ones...so they donated their sticker collection from birthdays and other presents so that everyone could still get one, when they come to the library.

Windburn

GOOD LORD, life got busy! I thought it was busy when I spent all my time applying for jobs and writing my book and working part-time as a Life Coach and keeping up with friends and working on my other projects. But it wasn't.

For the past two weeks (and this is a happy thing), I've worked six days a week. Four at the Farm, and two half-days as a nanny for this huge chunky four-month-old-baby with a lady-killer smile. Next week, I get to focus more on the Farm. (Which, really, is more about the Foundation, and a lot about Education, come to that. I may even eventually get to do the job I was originally hired for, and preserve/digitize/catalog something. You never know.)

And it is SUCH a freakin awesome place to work! We have free-range wild ducks that are huge and black with red and blue and white bits here and there-- and they have little fuzzy yellow babies!! We have three grey barn kittens who keep sneaking into the house and onto peoples' laps when they aren't looking, and one old black Tom who lives by the kitchen stove. We have apple trees and pear trees and zuchinis the size of small sports cars. Lots of friendly male goats who come when called ("hhheeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat, hhheeeeeerrrr goat-goat-goat!") and really want you to rub behind their ears, and three dappled white Davenport-Arabian horses that all want to make sure they get some of whatever you're handing out.

We have school children learning to make butter and listening to the story of Florinda Geer who traveled the Oregon Trail with her parents when she was eight years old, and then planted a tree on her parents' land-grant farm in 1856 that is still standing and growing on that same farm today. We have farm-fresh dairy cheese made with an old recipe from very old hillside cave dairy farms in Switzerland. We have an archive with over 165 years of family history, letters, tintype photos, and furniture from that trip over the Oregon Trail in 1846.

What we don't have is money to keep everything going. We're still working on that bit.

Anyway, four days at the farm with long 45-mile drives to get there and back, plus working part time as a Life Coach, plus writing my book and keeping up with friends and working as a Moderator for an online information distribution website and carving out time to spend with my boyfriend and and and-- Well it's a heck of a lot busier than I was before. And I love everything I'm doing. I just don't get much sleep. And the days are flying by so quickly anymore, I keep checking my face for windburn.

Soup, Soup, Soup

I think this particular title comes from a Maurice Syndac book I read when I was little. I recall the book also being fairly small, and in it is a little boy with a very large wooden mixing spoon. I've always wanted a spoon like that. I always figured, The bigger the spoon, the better the soup! I love making soup.

This evening, I walked into the house to find that my housemate (PC-- stands for Pretty Cool. And if her middle name started with a D, she'd be Pretty Dagmn Cool, if you ask me...) is watching a musical on the TV in her bedroom. Loudly. Which is just down the hall from mine. And her door is open for air, since today was actually rather warm. I think summer might still be summering for a few more weeks here after all. sigh...

So anyway, I'm at home, going to my room, and I've gotten to the top of the stairs. In fact, I'm just rounding the end of the banister, not listening particularly closely to the actor in PC's musical, who is listing a bunch of specific ingredients as he mixes them all together...

The man in the musical intones: ...A bit of this, a dab of that, a cup of this, another ingredient or two, and a pinch of cohones.

I stopped with one hand still on the banister railing, and blinked bemusedly at her bedroom door.

...What are cohones? another TV personality asks.
...Don't ask. And the music swells with magic potion billowyness.

"I see breasts. And foam. Of Course the magic potion is foaming." PC says this the same way that one might say "I don't believe you. This is ridiculous. Of course I have a cavity, because this is a dream, and you are an evil dentist." Dryly, with total disbelief at the predictability of the situation.

"Hi PC," I say, and open the door to my room. Just another night here in wonderland. With breasts and cohones and foaming magic potion thrown in for fun. What the hell kind of musical was that, anyway??

Feeling Green

So I'm in this totally AWESOME Journaling Group that meets once a month. It's an all-women group, and we talk (and write) about self-knowledge, wisdom, intuition and-- this year-- ourselves in relation to each of the seven chakras.

This month, we are focusing on Fourth Chakra. Heart Chakra. It's green, and gold. Here are some of the things that this particular embodied energy focal point is about:
generosity, transformation, balance, awareness of universal consciousness, wealth, imagination, determination, will power, the heart and upper back, circulatory system and immune system

It is the element of Air, and the sense of Touch. It is the heart of emotional healing, personal evolution, and clear vision. The Heart Chakra is the center of the chakra system in that it connects the three higher and the three lower chakras. Through this chakra, we learn to get in touch with our core being and our inner truth. It is the balance point of the higher self and how we manifest that self here in the mundane world. "As Above, So Below." (Some of this is quoted from VJ's notes for our group. Thanks VJ!)

And after writing and thinking about this for a bit, I had the realization that WEALTH and DOLLARS are a part of that healing Green Energy of the Fourth Chakra. Who Knew?? And that when I do finally dig myself out of debt and have money to spare, my heart's desire is to buy land and create spiritual and physical sanctuary on it, using (guess what!) Green Building techniques, and Green Energy sources-- in a more mundane sense of the words. To create a place of healing. So in a fairly direct way, me receiving money (which just happens to be green in our culture) allows me to give healing in bigger and better ways, the more money I receive. It allows me to magnify the amount of green heart-healing energy I give back to the world. Through my very use of money, it becomes a green energy in and of itself.

I know-- it's crazy.

For someone who actually has felt rather dirty about accepting money to heal people and be their Life Coach in an eternal Wise Woman sort of way... this was a real revelation. I heal emotional issues for my clients-- and I do it through the chakra energy of my heart. Green Energy.

And suddenly, I'm coming to terms with the reality that if I DON'T get paid in money what my healing energy is worth, I won't have the basic building blocks (food, clothing, shelter, freedom from debilitating debts) that I need if I want to stay energized and capable of helping others to heal. I've had this block against earning money for what I just naturally do. Money is not natural. I knew the block was there, but I didn't seem able to budge it. And this week, my Journaling Group changed all that.

So I thought I'd share. I'm really thrilled, actually. I finally understand ENERGETICALLY how important the money piece is to the whole healing circle of green energy in today's world. I'm finally making peace with the role money plays in my life. I'm learning not to resent my need for money. If I'm lucky, this might even make it easier for me to draw money-- and opportunities to earn money-- into my life path.

And now that I'm beyond the shock and awe of having that particular personal block to a healthy relationship with money just ...disintegrate... I'm starting to realize how unhealthy our whole nation's relationship with money is right now. I mean, here are some signs of a blocked Heart Chakra:
Feelings of jealousy, indifference, loneliness. Becoming needy, grabby, or demanding. Asking others for love and fulfillment, rather than looking within for self-love and self-fulfillment. Fear, despair, hate, longing. Pretending we don't need other people. Pretending we can cope with everything the world and life throws at us-- all by ourselves, alone.

And I thought, what a perfect description of the relationship I have had (and I think most of us have in this flailing economy) with money. It's amazing what a perfectly nice person will do to someone else, even someone they love, once money enters the picture. For myself, I've been jealous of those who have money. I've felt desperate to get or earn money. I often looked to others and their ways of earning and spending, instead of focusing on the relationship *I* want to build with money, and the strengths and abilities I want to use to earn it.

I have spent the last five years in a constant state of financial fear. I have hated my dependence on money, and yet I longed to have more of it. I have pretended all was well, in my financial world, while quickly falling into debt and despair. And I have insisted that I shouldn't need money-- or help with my budget and/or cash flow-- to get by. I have bought into the myth that talking about money, and my relationship to it, is shameful.

I've been very unhealthy and wrong and just BLOCKED, without even knowing HOW I was blocked and unhealthy. All I knew was that I had to find some way to unblock if I wanted to actually be able to have money come into my life (ie: income), rather than always watching it leave. And now, I'm excited to understand that money doesn't have to be evil. I begin to feel GOOD about my potential to earn large quantities of it. Because I spend large quantities of energy doing good work for other people (and therefore for myself) and for the Earth.

It is fair and reasonable that I be recompensed in a format that enables me to keep doing what I do-- only better. I'm excited to learn how much MORE I can do as a healer now that I've finally unblocked my Heart Chakra. And I'm curious to see the effects of finally allowing my definitions of "Abundance" and "Wealth" to include financial well-being, and an abundance of income. My definitions remain very broad-- but I realize now that it's okay to wish for not only an abundance of good friends, good food, good health, and good experiences-- but also to look for a good income as a vital part of truly Abundant Living. Wish me well-- it's turning out to be quite a journey.

The Other Family

Crazy. I think if you get to know a family well enough, we all have our special brands of crazy. I know my family does. And it was no different with GB's family. In fact, his family tend to wear THEIR crazy in plain view on their forehead-- kind of like the old cartoons of the kamakazi pilots with the white bandanna and the red dot.

The good news is that I got the official stamp of approval from just about everyone except the youngest brother, who clearly has trouble believing that anyone could like GB once they get to know him. The bad news is that after a while, I got the feeling that they all thought I was upper class or somehow better than GB and his family, and that is why they were so excited that he was dating me. Also, his dad seems to think it's my fault that GB is happier since moving out of Sacramento-- and he put responsibility for GB's continued happiness squarely on my shoulders as often as GB left the room.

I just don't think of myself as better or worse than others-- The competition I carry in my head is with myself. How can I improve? What can I do or contemplate or work on today that will make me a better person than I was before? Am I living up to my own standards? Also, I refuse to take responsibility for the happiness of others. Which is different from taking responsibility for how my actions or words affect others. Everything that is making GB happier than he was when he lived with them-- it's stuff he's accomplished or overcome or earned on his own merit.

But anyway, we spent time with the family-- which was the whole point of the trip-- and I totally fell in love with his Grandmother. And we saw some awesome natural wonders while we were at it. I got the scoop on main street, saw the locations of many an exciting moment in GB's personal history, and I met a few of the folks that pepper GB's stories about that same personal history. Hiked part of Horsetail Falls just west of Lake Tahoe. Visited the lake itself, including Emerald Bay which really is a beautiful shade of green.

Discovered that GB is a great roadtrip companion, and enjoyed every day of our trip until the last. I was pretty short on sleep, sore from hiking and all that driving we did, and well-- I was just basically grumpy on the drive back home. And I feel terrible whenever my grumpy comes out around other people-- and there we were, trapped together in a car or in my parents' living room (flying visit on the way north) from 7am until I got home around 10pm Friday night.
ARGH! But GB was very sweet about it. Which somehow made my grumpy worse.

And you know how it goes-- When you meet folks for the first time, you want to make a good impression and find reasons to like the people your companion likes. It wasn't until yesterday that I actually started to think about the trip and recognize my personal reaction to everything that had happened and everyone I'd met.

The upshot is that I actually appreciate and respect GB's intelligence, integrity, and compassion even more NOW than I did before-- because it's obvious he's worked hard and without much support-- or many role models-- to become the man he is today. And somehow, he just doesn't think that what he's accomplished or who/how he chooses to be in the world is anything wonderful or special. It's just the right thing to do, the right way to live. And I agree-- but I don't think many people today actually spend the time and energy it takes to live their lives to that standard.

Call me cynical if you want. Then spend three days in a town where everyone goes armed because picking fights is normal. A town where most folks grow or are addicted to something illegal, bigotry is rampant, and nobody can afford to stop working until they die because no matter how many lottery tickets they buy, they still don't have enough money to pay the bills, health care, or a retirement fund. Welcome to the home of the original California Gold Rush.

Here is a short list of things GB's various relatives liked about me:

• I carry a pocket knife.
• I like rodeos.
• I offered to help with the dishes.
• My dad uses the word "fart."
• I eat sushi (because they know GB does, and they think its weird).
• My ex-husband was in the Army.
  
• I don't put ice in my water.
• I understand the difference between a single action and a double action pistol.
  
• I'm still young enough to give them grandbabies.

And-a-Half

Well, I was going to write about the Family Reunion, but that may have to wait for the weekend now. Instead, today was somewhat sidetracked by having my car side-swiped by a rather large dark green Ford F-250. The good news is he stopped and gave me his insurance number and his name. The bad news is-- well, I was kinda hoping to go for more than a year-and-a-half before my next major car accident.

In other good news, it's drivable, and I am not at fault. Also, the autobody shop was able to fix the tail light so I'm legal, and my insurance will give me a loaner until they fix everything else. Which should take about a week. So GB and I will be driving a rental car down to visit his family in Sacramento next week, which isn't exactly what we'd been planning... We've requested something with good gas mileage. And nobody was hurt. I'm really grateful for that.

However, the driver's side rear quarter-panel needs replacing, and the whole lower panel and bumper need a new paint job. And I need a new light cover on the rear tail light. Also, apparently "pannel" only has one N in it.

So yeah, that all kinda put a kink in my plans for the day. I'm really glad GB was there with me, and I'm really glad that-- unlike the LAST time a large dark green vehicle slammed into me-- my passenger was uninjured. Last time, I saw the land rover speed up and ram my car in the rearview mirror. I said "He's not going to stop." And he didn't.

This time, I saw the ford truck veer into my lane and said "Please don't hit me?" But he did anyway. Last time, my passenger turned to me and said "What?" right before we got rear ended horribly. This time, my passenger turned and watched us get side-swiped, and then knew more than I did about exactly how and where it happened. He also ran back and picked up the busted light cover for me while Ford and I exchanged info.

sigh...

Smashing

So the Family Reunion was a smashing success. And tomorrow-- or heck, maybe after I go to bed and get up again later this morning-- I'll tell you the story of the five-hour lunch we all had on Saturday. It was a bit like ... umm... well, actually I can't think of anything else like it.

As my best friend often reminds me, my family wrote the book on Crazy. The good news is that we all understand that loving someone (or many someones) is a choice-- and we all just keep on making that choice over and over again. Intentional insanity. I begin to suspect it's genetic. The same way that half of us is allergic to ground pepper. Blame Grampa Speck-- lord knows we all got it from him in the first place.

It's Own Self

Funny thing... I stopped trying to guess what would make others happy, stopped trying to control outcomes, and started simply stating my personal preferences directly as the day unfolded... And the outcomes started taking care of themselves. Today has been a wonderful day.

Had an awesome breakfast with GB around lunch time. Ordered what sounded good to me instead of worrying about the price. Acknowledged that I wasn't interested in watching one of his favorite shows-- knowing he can watch it when it replays on Friday. Was therefore not resentful about the time we spent watching TV. Petted cats for a while because they needed to be petted. Felt no need to justify my priorities to anyone.

Cleaned out my entire car in anticipation of lots of family and luggage fitting into it on Friday (yay!). Stopped worrying about identity theft and recycling and finally threw that huge-ass bag of junk mail in the trash. Ate a few bites of ice cream to cool me down. Cleaned out the plastic leftover food containers bin with my housemate like I've been promising to do for the last few months. Now everything that's left has a fitting lid, and the door to the bin actually closes. YAY!!!

Cooked the little organic corns from the food box, and had some really yummy greens (courtesy of my awesome roomie!!) Because I wanted greens, and I've been drooling in anticipation of that corn for nearly a week now... Decided not to stress that GB was late for our double-dinner-date with his friends I'd never met before... Only tried on two shirts in the process of getting ready. (And if I hadn't sweated out the one I had on, I'd have been ready to go just as I was. No more vacillating in front of the mirror as I try to look like the right kind of girlfriend. I'm me. Isn't that enough?!) Decided to send him a reminder text when he still didn't show up because I wanted to know what was going on. Good decision, as he'd gotten sucked into the world wide web, and was totally lost to reality 20 minutes after he'd planned to let me know he was on his way. Decided to read up about healthy relationships while I waited for him to finish getting ready and come pick me up for our double date.

Decided it is his worry and not mine if we are half an hour late the first time I meet his friends. Failed to worry. Had a total blast with GB and his friends at a really yummy bar with fuzzy black wall paper and the Kentucky Fried Colonel's photo in the place of honor over the restroom hallway. Felt just fine eating-but-n0t-drinking in a punked-out restaurant-bar. Had a good conversation about friendship and friends with GB after we took his awesome friends back to their apartment. Kicked him out when I started getting sleepy. Wrote a blog post about my day.

Started the laundry, and went to bed early enough that I won't be tired when I drive out to the Farm tomorrow morning. At least, that's the plan. Really, when I decided to make sure *I* was enjoying my life, life suddenly became so much easier to enjoy!

I think sometimes when you stop struggling to make the flow go your way, and just go with the flow that's already inside you... the rest takes care of itself.

Vulnerabilities

My copy of "Truth In Dating" by Susan M. Campbell went missing a couple of months ago, so I borrowed a copy from the library. Now it's due back because someone else put a hold on it. Probably someone I've recommended the book to. It's a really great book, for ANY person-to-person relationship, be it work, family, friends, or actual dating scenarios. I highly recommend it. Often.

So I'm sitting here contemplating the return trip to the library, and I flipped the book open to a page about being vulnerable. It's a very relevant page for me right now, because I've been feeling rather vulnerable the past few days for no reason I could find. I've also been trying to put my finger on a lingering concern I had yet to define in my dating relationship.

So what is my big vulnerability? Besides my fear of asking for more than someone has to give me? And why haven't I shared that with GB? What is it that's about ME, regardless of the relationship I'm in? Well-- I realize that I have a deep fear of being disposable. That I've started to resent the people who like to talk, but don't make time to listen. And I don't tend to share that bit of angst when it comes up. I know how important a good listener can be, and I am very very good at listening.

So many people in my world-- for the past twenty years or so-- They seek out my company when they are working on a big life change. When they need counsel or a leg up or just someone to listen and love them anyway. And when they get what they need to move forward with their lives, they spread their wings and fly away... until next time. That's part of why I finally opened an office. Why it's been so hard to give notice and close the office down again. I wanted to create a category in my life for the folks I support, so that I would be less likely to expect them to support me in return. It's not the way those relationships work.

It's a pattern I've known about for years, but I hadn't thought about it in a while. And I used to work hard at clarifying which were my fly-away friends, and which were my solid and constant friends who actually want to be there for ME on a regular basis, too. The folks who make time for me and appreciate more about me than my ability to support them. Because there is a lot more to me than the fact that I'm a good listener who helps others become the people they want to be. Guess I haven't paid enough attention to that lately.

From there I went back to thinking about my current relationship with GB. I realized that (from my perspective) my biggest function with him seems to be as a good listener, and as a catalyst for him to lead the life he has wanted to grow into for so long. And as much as I'm honored to fill that role for him, it makes me feel disposable. I'm just waiting for him to get what he needs and fly away like so many others do. And a big part of me wants to feel that the man I'm dating finds me interesting and fun and enjoyable and special for who I am and what I've done in my life-- and not just what I do for him. Anybody can listen.

Granted, I'm making a big assumption of what he likes or appreciates or even what he knows about me. But when my interest in watching "Warehouse 13" shocked him, because he was interested in it, too, and he hasn't been interested in watching anything else I like... I had to acknowledge just how little he does know (or find interesting) about me. And I'm not sure how to fix that. I mean, he's considerate, and observant, and works to remember any preferences I express. He's a good listener when I open my mouth and talk, and he's totally supportive when I let him know about a challenge I'm facing in my life. He respects me, and he appreciates my input. But that's the rub-- I share bits of his life with him... but I don't know how to get this awesome guy who I really like to share bits of my life with me. I think I'm pretty unique and have a lot of interesting stories to share, if given the opportunity. Clearly, it's something *I* have to work on. Making opportunities. And not just with GB.

For now, I've decided that a return to my original game plan of dating would be a good morale booster for me. And that's got to be my priority. Me. So when I go over to his place tonight, I'm going to wear the most outrageously "ME" clothing I own, (You are, by the way, reading the blog of a woman who wore poofy purple genie pants and a dragon medallion in high school, had a very tall "mohawk" buzz cut for a few months in college, cox'd for the West Poignt men's crew team, lived for several years as the perfect little Army Wife, has prophetic dreams, works as an Archival Librarian on a woman-run organic goat farm, and daydreams of riding motorcycles at high speeds.) and I'm going to bring a movie I want to watch for once! I'm going to be sassy and strong and demanding, and just get what I want for myself-- and let the boy worry about keeping up with me for a change. (--this was the original dating plan, btw) If he wants to stay with me, he's going to have to form functional relationship with ALL parts of who I am, prove he doesn't scare easy, and not just interact with the safe and supportive bits of me that I've been putting out there for him lately.

Yes, I'm pretty and sweet and I don't cheat, but there's a hell of a lot more to me than that!

...should be fun...

Oogling Goggles

When I first became a nanny, little Annabelle would wear her swim goggles when she wanted to look like me in my glasses. She was totally adorable, and I have this awesome photo of her using lotion and a baby wipe to "clean" the mirror, wearing a really cute little dress, leggings, and swim goggles. She was two at the time. GB wears HIS goggles when he's riding his motorcycle.

I've always secretly wanted to ride motorcycles. Okay, so it hasn't been much of a secret... but I don't tend to bring it up because a lot of my friends just wouldn't understand. And some women have insisted that I should want to ride my OWN motorcycle-- but what I really want is to ride behind somebody else on theirs. Preferably, somebody I'd be comfortable hugging for long periods of time. All the fun, none of the responsibility.

With this background, you might understand why I was rather excited to start dating a guy who rides. Except that he'd recently hurt his thumb (motorcycle accident), and couldn't... So even though we've been dating for a couple of months now, I have yet to take my first motorcycle ride. Maybe it's just not meant to be.

...But I'm still hoping.

Yesterday, we took the bike (he rode it, I drove behind just in case) to a repair shop for estimates. First time I've had opportunity to watch someone ride a bike for any period of time. Usually when I start to show interest in a motorcycle on the road, the rider tries to pick me up, so I've learned NOT to oogle strange motorcycle riders. sigh. But GB was fair game, and it took us a good 20 minutes to get where we were going. It totally whetted my appetite to ride all over again.

The funny thing is that he was in SUCH a better mood after his ride. I've got to convince that boy to either ride his bike or go for workouts in the gym on a regular basis. I much prefer him happy. I cannot, however, tell you whether or not he looks adorable in HIS goggles-- he forgot to wear them yesterday. It took some doing, but I finally convinced him to wear my sunglasses for the trip home, since it was a very sunny day, and the goggles are, apparently, tinted. BOYS!!! sigh...