Trav and I spent Saturday immersing ourselves in all things self-propelled at the Flying Wheels bike event . He spent five hours pedaling every inch of a 65 mile course, while I spent five hours resisting the urge to call him to make sure he wasn’t dead. “OH MY GOD IT’S BEEN FOUR HOURS. WHERE ARE YOU? ARE YOU ALIVE? ARE YOU SURE? BECAUSE I WILL GET IN THIS TRUCK AND COME GET YOU”. Apparently, he was dealing with a very big hill. To the tune of my non-stop jangle in his back pocket for an hour and a half.

Thank God for beer.

Here’s the full slideshow featuring special guest, Hector, Caterpillar of DOOM.

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I really am writing a follow-up post to the whole surgery-baby-drama post, but something happened yesterday that is just way, way cooler:

I met Mack Strong.

For about 30 seconds. But still. We had a conversation. And I didn’t suck.

Every month, the Newcastle Chamber of Commerce meets at Tapatio’s for the usual ‘who are you, what do you do, speaker presentation’ and it is the only time I ever get up from my desk for an actual lunch with actual people. I don’t always get to go – Chamber meetings are always the same day as Parks Commission meetings (which I also attend), as well as WRPA meetings (which I’d really LIKE to attend) and often I just have too many conflicts.

The day I came home from surgery, Al started acting completely normal again. As a reward we re-instituted his backyard privileges, a place he finds so exciting he feels the need to collapse into the first patch of mulch he finds. Lolling around in it ’til he’s good and caked in a thick layer of dusty splinters, Al gets this expression that if he could talk, would probably sound just like this: “Oh.My.God.OutsideisthebestplaceEVERIneverwanttoleavesurelyyoudon’twantallthis
crapinsidesowhydon’tyouleavemehereandi’llseeyouatbreakfast?”

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When your mom’s a nurse, you spend a lot of time visiting the hospital. You learn and see all sorts of things most kids don’t, and sometimes, you get to go into the OR. They’re not very scary when they’re empty. Just a long table, huge honking lamp and a couple of computers with dark screens. It’s quiet. Calm. Blank. Completely the opposite of what I imagined it must be like for my mom.

Walking into one at 9:45am this Tuesday morning, I realized very quickly that I DID NOT CARE what it was really like in an OR. Nope - I instantly knew this was THE SCARIEST PLACE ON EARTH. Because I wasn’t just looking around this time. I was going to be laying on that table. Things Were Going To Be Done. By People I Don’t Know. And when I woke up, I may or may not have all the parts I came in with.