Well, two anniversaries actually. Way back on the 15th of August, the spousal unit & I marked 37 years of wedded bliss. Or at least hard work towards that end. No point in breaking it down into discrete levels of satisfaction, right?
The other anniversary was on the 22nd – my 14th consecutive year (now 5123 days!!) of being free of the evil weed (tobacco that is). Now if I could just get my weight back to behaving again. Thing is, I am not working out anywhere near as much as I used to. This getting old nonsense is rough! Ruptured tendons, arthritis, there’s a Morton’s Neuroma in there someplace, still.
Maybe I’ll break down and get the neuroma fixed, then I can at least get back to biking. Right now it just feels like a giant dead spot on the ball of my foot and it isn’t comfortable at all. Did find some treatment options other than cortisone shots that had a 2 day recovery period. Now to find out if my foot guy can hook me up.
I keep promising pics of the grand kids. Welp – here we go. First, we have the oldest two, and their parents. That bearded guy is our eldest.
This was from a hot air balloon festival in Letchworth State Park here in upstate NY. Behind and below (400 feet below!) them is the Genesee River, cruising through the gorge it’s cut out of the bedrock over the last who knows how many years. This is downstream from 3 sets of waterfalls that drop the river to the level you see here.
Logan up there is 3 (he’ll be 4 next week) and Avery is 6 going on 16 already. She hits 1st grade next week.
This is the other two –
My two favorite red heads. Cecily is also 3, a whopping 4 days younger than Logan and little miss Corinne joined us March 1st. No doubt she’ll also have red hair just like her mom. Good thing we have some red heads in the family so our son could contribute too!
Anyhow, there’s the wee ones and a couple of the not so wee ones. We’ve got us back to back birthday party weekends coming up, so there’ll be plenty of quality time spent with aaallll the kids. Ought to be a blast.
Also getting closer and closer to the tipping point regarding getting back to Al Anon. I know it’ll be a good thing. I just have to suck it up, be a little selfish and not worry about the ripple effects of me admitting I need to go there again. It’s kind of hard to hide the fact that one is headed out at 7:30 on a Tuesday evening. Answering the question “where are you going?” is the pebble that starts the ripples. To finish that metaphor, it’s time to decide when to toss the pebble.
5091 days without a smoke. 3 weeks short of 14 years. And counting.
In other news, that visit to my old Al Anon meeting is getting closer & closer to happening. The amount of anger I am harboring is alarming. I don’t know if I’m getting overly sensitive about things or if seeing the same antics over and over again justify my anger and frustration.
Coming home to a spouse that’s drunk 4 – 5 nights a week should be upsetting, right? I don’t mean drunk like she’s had a couple glasses of wine. I mean drunk like she’s sucked down 2 or 3 mugs of whiskey & ginger ale. About a 50/50 mix. Probably the equivalent of 3 – 4 shots per mug. Slurring her speech, walking and moving slowly because her inner gyros are struggling to maintain some semblance of balance.
Did I share about the evening she cracked her head open? Hold on . . . .
Nope – I didn’t. 2 – 3 years ago, wintertime, maybe that cold ass February we had in 2016. Anyhow, we were enjoying the hot tub. I had a beer (Edmund Fitzgerald I’ll bet) and Cindy was at least 3 of her gigunda drinks into her evening. After 1/2 hour plus, it was time to head in. I was grilling something (yes – we grill all winter), the spousal unit was on the back porch having a smoke. Came in, changed in to dry clothes. Cindy goes back out for another smoke. I was getting the rest of dinner ready when I hear a couple of loud thumps. Look over to the (now open) sliders that go to the porch and see Cindy sitting there on the porch looking rather stunned holding a hand to her forehead. Thump 1 was her head hitting the sliders door handle. Thump 2 was her butt hitting the floor. She managed to catch the edge of the door handle with her forehead above her left eye. Opened up a lovely 2 – 3 inch gash.
Had 2 problems. 1- getting her to even stand up. 2 – convincing her that we had to go to the ER and get her stitched up. The really amazing part is that even with her on Warfarin AND having a sizable scale/head wound, the bleeding was remarkably light.
Turned off the grill, brought in what ever I was cooking. Got Cindy into something more substantial than nightie and hauled her to the ER. Passed the whole thing off as slipping on a patch of ice on the back porch, losing her balance and whacking the door handle. I forget how many stitches it took, 10 or more I’m sure. Luckily it healed nicely and left a barely visible scar. Never did have dinner that night, and I am positive the ER doc was aware of Cindy’s drunkenness. Not the way to spend a winter evening.
So yeah – THAT’s the kind of struggle she has regularly with her inner gyros. Five or more nights a week. Then there’s making sure the couch doesn’t move all day Saturday and Sunday. Her reason? Either sinus headache or upset stomach. The real reason? Hangover.
Mostly I need to stop making the choices that keep from rocking the boat and start making the choices to better defend my own boundaries.
Next time I’m getting a bottle of wine to cook with? No – I won’t pick up a bottle of your favorite whiskey.
You want to spend all day on the couch nursing your “sinus headache”? Fine – I’ll mow the yard then go do something fun. Golf, bowl, work on a project . . .
Don’t want to go out to dinner because you’re already drunk? Stay home and eat. I’m headed out.
Think I’ll also keep my Al Anon books where they are more accessible. Sitting on a high shelf in the closet isn’t doing anyone any good.
For tonight? Spencerport 12 & 12. 8pm, the White Church. (No, not because it’s for white people. It’s just a huge, old Presbyterian style church) It’ll be good.
That’s one duration – 4,756 days or 13 years and 1 week – how long its been since I quit smoking. For real.
Here’s another one: 21,440 or 58 years, 8 months and 12 days – how long I’ve been hanging around in this life time. Significant only in that it is also the same amount of time my dad had before he passed away. Massive heart attack that was really a complication of diabetes.
There’s another duration, length as yet unknown. That is how much longer I’m going to put up with a certain persons poor choices when it comes to drinking. I need to get my butt back to some Al Anon meetings. The ones I frequented before were all on the west side of our county. I live there, worked there, found meetings close to work & home. It helped.
Now, I still live in the western side of the county, but work has been re-located to the far eastern side. On a good day it’s a 30 minute commute, not the 5 – 10 minute jaunt I had become used to (or the 25 minute bike ride that was such good exercise!) The first meeting I ever found started at 5pm, took me 15 minutes to get to and was easy to pass off as “working late”. Now? Not so lucky.
Maybe I should just say the heck with it and go back to the group where I spent the most time. Meets at 8pm. I’ll just have to tell that certain person I’m off to a meeting. That cold hard slap in the face might actually help her.
To publish or not to publish? Eh, she doesn’t even know this places exists. Publish.
I keep thinking I should stop in and put in some sort of update. Unfortunately it’s been so long since I really DID post that a proper ‘update’ would take several thousand words. So we’re going to have to let fly with an improper update I guess.
Golf season ended. Happy to say my short game has been showing some pretty good improvement. Feel pretty confident with the wedges (all 4 of them) and the putting has been pretty solid. What I need to work on is consistency off the tee. I can, at times, whack a golf ball near 300 yards, but I have no idea where it’s going. Pull one left, push one right, about every 4th drive I hit an absolute bomb down the middle and end up with a ridiculously short approach shot from a good lie. That I flub. Consistently inconsistent. Got it down pat.
Still at 3 grand kids & holding. Had a first birthday party for little Logan last week, have one to go to for Cecily this weekend. Considering the newest batch of grandkiddies just turned 1, I think it’s fair to say that it might be a while before #4 gets in the oven. Especially after the difficult labor involved with getting little Miss Cecily delivered.
This past July we hitched up the camper and spent a week in the Adirondacks with Eric, Kelly & little Miss Cecily. Her first ever camping trip at all of 10 months old. She had a blast and took advantage of having 4 adults around to cater to her every need. We’re in the midst of planning another trip next summer. Have the campground and campsites picked out, just waiting for the reservation window to open. If you like more ‘rustic’ campsites, I can highly recommend Lake Durant Campground. No electric, no water hookups (but spigots distributed all over the campground), restrooms are decent and the sole shower facility is, well, rustic works. Clean, but clearly showing it’s age.
I broke down and got a solar panel for our camper. With 8 hours of good sunlight a day, we can run interior LED lights with little to no restrictions. Unfortunately, the kind of campgrounds we like are heavily wooded with really nice separation between sites. I was doing good to get 4 hours of direct light most days. On our 6 day trip, we were just slowly losing ground each day. By the time we had packed up and were ready to hit the road, I had to hook up the truck’s power just to roll in the awning – we were that low on juice. But it all worked out. The sites we have picked out for next year have better southern & western exposures (we’re on the shore of a small lake with water to the south & west!!)), so I think we’ll be fine.
Have one more trip planned for Columbus Day weekend. Much as I hate how much the spousal unit drinks 3 – 4 days a week, this trip is in NY’s Finger Lakes wine country. I am sure we’ll spend at least one day of the weekend on the wine trail, checking out wineries we have yet to visit. I’ve adopted the strategy of trying wines I wouldn’t normally drink during the tastings. Learned that I’ve been ignoring some good wines.
For those of you that haven’t read this thing from the beginning, I’ve had tons of experience with this drinking issue the spousal unit has. I’ve done Al Anon, she’s done AA. We’ve done couples counselling and I was seeing a therapist on my own before we started the couples stuff. Then our couples counselor up and moved to Virginia, we never transferred to another therapist and things have slowly spiraled back down to nearly where were 10 years ago.
But I do have my Al Anon learnings to rely on and I can always start attending meetings again. I know where there are a couple near me, problem is getting out on a weeknight to attend. Might just have to run that flag up the pole and see what the reaction is.
Oh – golf ended, so bowling started. Did you know that those sports use different muscles? Boy, I do. I can tell you which ones bowling uses the most too. Right now what aches the most is my left hip flexor (flexing to slide), right forearm (lifting through the ball) and right calf (pushing into the slide). And? 84 degrees in beautiful upstate NY yesterday. That is too damned hot to be bowling. I was wearing one of my tech fabric golf polo’s and it was still darn near dripping. Hate to say it, but I can’t wait for it to cool off. But not like last February. Last Feb we set a record for lowest average monthly temperature in the history of ever for our county. That month long average temp? 12.5. Farenheit. On top of the usual metric ass load of snow we get too. We did kind of wimp out in that category this winter though (too damn cold to snow). We only got 102 inches. Barely average for us. Boston was whining about the 100 inches they got – I wanted to tell them “Hey – Welcome to our average winter!” Buncha wimps.
Game of the century (to date) around here? The new Rex Ryan Era Bills against the hated Patriots. This weeks chant? “Splat the Pats!” Don’t expect me to be answering emails Sunday. I will be on the back porch cheering on my Bills.
Till then – behave or have fun. Pick one.
Yeah, I know. Long time no see. Work and home projects are kicking my ass. Making progress on most fronts. Here’s a meme I saw & stole:
1. The smallest bone in the human body is about the size of a grain of rice. What is it?
For reals, it’s a bone in the ear, but I can not recall it’s actual name. I’d google it, but that ain’t the point here now, is it?
There’s a joke to be made here about boners of wives/girlfriends ex-lovers but far be it from me to stoop to such a crass level.
2. How fast is a sneeze?
Never as fast as you want. Don’t some of them take forever to actually happen? Others just do the stealth blitz attack and you’re wiping ‘fluids’ off your desk before you even knew what hit you.
3. What percentage of the human body is water?
Before Happy hour, isn’t it about 75% ? Thursday night, Cindy was 74% water, 1% alcohol, 25% drunker than I wanted to deal with. Friday night, well – not one of my better nights.
4. True or False: A human’s thumb is as long as his or her nose.
Might be close. Don’t have a mirror handy and I don’t dare try an internal measurement.
5. What should you do if you are bitten by a snake?
If it’s a garter snake, catch it, skin it, cook it & eat it like a sausage. If it’s a rattler or copperhead there’s only one thing to do. Bend over as far as you can and keep bending over far enough until you can kiss your ass good-bye.
6. It is a fact that humans get an entirely new skeleton every 12 years. What do we get every six years?
Eight years older? Free colonoscopy from the IRS? New skin?
7. Happiness is directly related to the size of your _________________.
Heart. Enough said.
8. If there are 9,000 taste buds on your tongue, how many hairs are on your head right now?
Not enough. There are fewer hairs than there were yesterday. That is a sad thing.
I’m also wondering how hairy Cindy’s tongue was feeling after Thursday night.
9. I believe that the size of the needle is directly related to the mood of the nurse. However, sometimes it’s necessary to get shots. If you could be vaccinated against anything in the world, what would it be?
Hard not to be bitter here, but I think I’d like to be vaccinated against doing anything I might regret later. Coming in a close second would be protection against resentment.
Over-indulged Friday evening, paid for it Saturday. All the women folk of the clan (& extended clan) were over in Syracuse for Eric & Kelly’s wedding shower. Theoretically that left me home alone for the day to work on the bathroom project. I was making fine progress right up until Zach showed up with his dog, Ollie, and his FIL, Greg.
Ollie did the absolute cutest little peeking into the bathroom deal. He’s pretty comfortable in our house, so when Zach arrived he opened the door and turned Ollie loose. I’m thinking Zach sent him upstairs where he must have come into the bedroom. Hearing me putzing around in the bathroom, he had to come over and check things out. All I saw was Ollie poking his nose around the bathroom door with his big puppydog eyes asking the question “You’re happy to see me, right?”
Once I called him he came bounding over practically knocking me over in his exuberance. He is NOT the cute little puppy he was 9 months ago. He’s up to around 60 or 70 pounds of playful, happy, people loving chocolate lab.
Anyhow. Greg brought over some cable I needed, we ran a little bit of wiring and discussed options for further wiring. Greg does house electric jobs on the side so he’s a great resource for where to get materials and strategies for getting the most wiring out of the least materials.
After that initial burst, we all ran out of gas, so we sat out on the back porch and shot the breeze for the rest of the day. I got in a few more shorts bursts of activity, but for the most part, Saturday was a rest day.
Sunday being Fathers Day kinda forced me to make some deals. Zach called earlier in the week asking where we were going to get tee times. Knowing I needed to spend some quality time in the bathroom (not doing THAT!) I took a rain check, planning an outing for the next time Eric was in town too. That should be 3 weeks or so.
With the rain check in place, I spent the day wrapping up the wiring and actually started drywall in the bathroom. Ought to be mudding this weekend, then it’ll be time to start wrapping up the shower. I DO have pictures of the (snails pace) progress and will put together a little album before too long.
I haven’t touched my bike since the Tour de Cure. One of the reasons is that my left quad had been really sore – the result of cramps that crept in the last 10 miles or so. By Friday though the old quad was feeling pretty good – so I gave it a couple of extra days. Plus, my more tender areas have been suffering through some odd tingling sensations not unlike what one feels when an arm or leg falls asleep. I’m sure it was the result of a pinched nerve because now it’s back to normal. It felt pretty odd, but no where near as odd as that time I had an epidural. (Whole ‘nother story, maybe for another day.)
Anyhow. I’m thinking of sneaking out of work in like 5.3 minutes, driving home and riding the old ass buster to the Y and taking in a spin class. It’s Monday, Lori is the instructor and I really can’t stand her music or exercise technique, but I need to ride and the seats on the Y’s spin bikes are the most comfortable things around. I’m willing to suffer through some Lady Gagger some of the other shit Lori plays just to get in a bona fide sweat – unless I can find someone willing to try out some highly aerobic horizontal gymnastics for an hour or so. That ain’t bloody likely.
Gotta admit, I’m kinda tweaked. Tonight was the 34th Anniversary meeting for the Al Anon group I attend. It’s a big deal for the group. We invite guest speakers, bring in food, announce the meeting at other area meetings and invite friends from those groups. At 34 years, this group is one of the oldest in the area too.
Every anniversary meeting this group has I bring in pizza bread. Simple to make, packs a lot of flavor into a 3 or 4 bite (or 2 bite?) serving. Folks rave over it (I think they’re surprised a guy cooks, frankly) Monday night on my way home from work I picked up the necessaries to make a couple of loaves.
Tuesday afternoon I was trying to wrap up a few things at work before I left. I got home in time to throw together my pizza bread, let it cook, grab a bite for dinner and head out to the meeting with some nice, fresh, warm bread.
Well. I got home a little after 6 to find that Cindy had made the pizza bread. In spite of my disappointment at not being able to make the food I was taking to my meeting (note the 1st person singular pronouns!!!), the first words out of my mouth were “gee, thanks for making the pizza breads for me” – and I really tried to make it sound sincere.
Unfortunately, there were some issues with the dough I had bought. We typically make this stuff with the Pillsbury Pipin’ Hot Loaf pre-made bread dough in the pop-open cans. For the life of me, I couldn’t find the Pipin’ Hot Loaf. Left with no clear winner, I substitute a couple of cans (tubes? Pop-open thingamajiggies?) of the French Bread. Apparently Cindy had trouble getting it out of the can, then the shape of the French loaf wasn’t what she was used to, so she tried to re-shape it with a rolling pin. The dough ripped & tore, the shape was all wrong, and in spite of all this she still layered in the mozzarella & pepperoni, shaped it into a giant “U” on the cookie sheets and baekd it anyhow.
When I opened the oven, all I saw was loaves of bread that were cracked open all up & down their length with cheese & pepperoni grease leaking out all over the place. What bread wasn’t awash in cheese or pepperoni grease was welded to the baking sheet.
My reaction was along the lines of “I can’t take these to me meeting. I have to get to the store and get the stuff to remake them”. So off I went to the store to re-stock. Found the tubes of Pillsbury pizza dough this tie too! Got home, pulled the now finished, mis-shapen, leaking loaves out of the oven and immediately bent a spatula trying to scrape the loaves out of the cookie sheets I needed to make the new ones.
I got a more stout spatula (after retiring the first one to the trash – which got mysteriously bent into a pretzel) and scraped the loaf out best I could and took the cookie sheet to the sink. At the sink I find no SOS pads. Under the sink I find no box of fresh pads. Figures that’s the one thing we leave off this weeks grocery list.
Managed to clean that cookie sheet and its twin minus the SOS pads. Prepped to make the loaves. Opened my cans of dough without incident, got them on the sheets, did the egg wash, spread some ricotta, layered in the pepperoni and added the mozzarella. Fold, fold, roll & pinch the ends. Move to loaf two, repeat the process. 30 minutes, 350 degrees in a convection oven. (40 min at 400 in a regular oven)
Pulled out two gorgeous loaves, wrapped them and took off to my meeting where I was only a little late in helping to set up. Crisis at the meeting averted.
Crisis at home NOT averted. Once I saw the condition of the loaves Cindy had made I think I was clearly upset.
A – they turned out horribly.
B – they were for ME to make and take to MY meeting
C – they were MY contribution to MY groups celebration
D – I initially got the wrong dough. Had I been allowed to figure that out, I would have made different choices than Cindy did in deciding to try and make the dough I had work. Would have saved me a pack of pepperoni and a pound of mozzarella.
E – I wanted to make them a little different than I had in the past, Cindy didn’t know that therefore she couldn’t have done what I wanted.
F – SHE NEVER ASKED
G – She was already drunk when I got home.
H – I will not be apologizing for much of anything. Actions were taken on my behalf without my prior knowledge or approval. I appreciate and acknowledged the fact that Cindy “was only trying to help”, but damnit – if you’re trying to help, why fuck up my stuff?
No, I didn’t tell her that. I initially thank her for making the bread (before I saw the results). I did tell her I appreciated her efforts. What I haven’t yet told her is that I really, really resent her taking all the decisions about what to do about MY gift to the group out of my hands and making a total mess out of it.
I couldn’t tell her actually. She’s stayed out of my sight since ‘The Event’. When I got home from my meeting, I heard her (drunkenly) lumber up the stairs to bed. I can’t wait to get up there, get in bed and ask her to roll over and get her booze breath out of my face. Too bad the spare bedrooms are full of all the stuff out of our closets and the old master bath. No room in the spare rooms.
A speaker at our meeting tonight (the Al Anon speaker I invited) said something that really made an impression on me. It had to do with really letting go and letting the alcoholic crash & burn for themselves.
In my head, I know this to be true. Might be time to really think deep about if & how I am still enabling and take some steps to eliminate that. Know it in my heart and live it. Find the denial and melt it away.
And we’re getting the hot flashes & night sweats!
One of the down sides to living in the Northeast, besides the endless snowfall all winter long, is the fact that so few of us have air conditioning. Normally we’d only need it for a day or two in May, June – August, and the odd day or two in September. Barely a quarter of the year! Man of us eschew the central (or even window) AC.
But much like a southerner complaining about an inch or two of snow shutting everything down until it melts, I’m gonna bitch about the temps here edging close to 90 in May. WTF!?!?! Just 6 days ago I was glad I didn’t wear shorts golfing because it was barely into the 60’s. Sunday morning I was golfing with the boys and we were melting fro the heat & humidity by 11am! Granted, the course was a swamp thanks to all the rain we’ve had in April & May (lost a ball in the fairway because it plugged itself into the ground and I couldn’t locate the tunnel!) but geeze – upper 50’s on Wednesday then lwer 90’s on Sunday? Not fair.
But. Yesterday I paid my dues. I spent an hour in my attic crawlspace running a cable from a wall switch to an electric box I was installing right over our bed. Had to cut the hole in the ceiling, measure & cut the support beam and install said beam all in the comfort of the crawl space. Mind you, it’s a belly crawl, not a ‘on your hands & knees crawl’. And there’s no floor – only the ceiling joists and insulation. I took some small hunks of plywood up with me that I could kind of ‘ski’ on just so I didn’t end up crashing through the ceiling. The worst part was the temperature. Had to be 120 up there. Sweat was dripping off me so fast it looked like I had a hose installed on my head supplying the fountain of sweat that was sprouting from my eyebrows, nose, hair and anything else that would support a drip.
Then I got to come down into the 80-something degree not-yet finished bathroom and think it was cool. Of course, as I started mounting the ceiling fan to the newly installed electric box, I discovered that in my haste to get out of the oven I installed the box support a wee bit tilted. More tilted than I could correct for with the fan mounts. So? Up I went for round 2. At least I had the fan mounting bracket screwed onto the electric box to act as a guide. The re-install went fine. Still hot as a mofo, but at least this was a quick trip.
The upside to this whole mess? I gave up a day of working on the bathroom to get a ceiling fan installed in our bedroom. So even with no AC and the house heated up into the 80’s yesterday, sleeping last night was nearly blissful. If it weren’t for the little fiberglass shards from the insulation making my forearms itch like nobody’s business it would have been pure heaven.
So. Bathroom progress. All the supply plumbing is done & pressure tested. All the drain plumbing is done. Now I get to build the third wall of the shower stall and get ranking on the wiring for the new ceiling lights. Since it’s wiring & wall building – nah – who am I kidding? I’m not going to do a thing on it during the week. It’ll have to wait for the weekend like everything else.
Oh – that story about Cindy’s day off. Here goes.
Many years ago, one fine weekend afternoon Cindy was headed from the garage into the house. There are three steps to negotiate. Well, in her typically drunken state at the time, she had a little trouble navigating step #1, tripped and but managed to get her left leg under her and catch herself. In the process she managed to do some damage to her knee. ACL, MCL, one of them. A month or so after the incident she had her knee looked at, doc said it was a minor tear, not really bad enough to force an operation to repair, it would be Cindy’s choice. She chose to let it heal on its own.
Fast forward a couple years. Summer time. Cindy’s left leg (calk mostly) swells up for no apparent reason. We get her in to the doc, she says “get thee to the ultrasound clinic now and have the call me with the results”. So we went to the clinic. On the way I stopped by the surgical supply store and got her a pair of crutches. At the ultrasound clinic we earned that Cindy had blood clots behind her left knee and they were gumming up the circulation causing the knee swelling. That got her an invite to the hospital for some intensive heparin therapy to try and dissolve the clot. She was in the hospital for 3 or 4 days and missed a family reunion (on her side, that we were a part of planning). She got out of the hospital and was put on a prescription of injection type blood thinners for a week (another place to use my Army training!!), then went on tablet form of Coumadin.
Know what you’re not supposed to do while taking Coumadin? Drink alcohol. It messes with how the Coumadin works. The poor doctor was going nuts trying to find a dosage level that would keep Cindy’s blood thin enough to avoid clotting but no so thin as to be a danger for minor nicks & scrapes. We had the same GP at the time and that’s when I confessed to the Do that I was in Al Anon because of Cindy’s drinking and that that same drinking is what was causing her to have so much trouble dialing in the Coumadin levels.
That was about 5 years ago. Fast forward to last week. Cindy has this little teeny mole in her armpit. Had it for years, never caused any trouble. Thursday morning, while shaving her armpit, she took a hunk out of the mole. A nice, blood vessel rich mole. It bled like a stuck pig. She didn’t even know it until she noticed the shower water was kind of pink. She managed to get the bleeding to stop after 10 – 15 minutes with direct pressure and went on with her day.
Until she got to work. Some how, Some way and for some reason, she looked at her underarm. Apparently there was a HUGE bruise that spread from halfway down to her elbow up through her armpit and down her rib cage a ways. It freaked her right out, so she went home and sprawled out on the couch. It was about 4:45 when she called me and bailed out of spin class. That’s when I called the audible and went for that bike ride instead, because by the time I got home that bruise was gone. Not even a hint of it remained. I saw nothing to fret about. So I went for a ride.
I got my wheel back from the bike shop too. They replaced the busted spoke, re-trued my rim & cleaned the gear cassette. Now I can’t ride again till Thursday. Thinking of riding in to work but taking the really, really long way home, try to make a 50 miler of it. Probably head out west along the lakeshore for 20 miles or so then cut back south and head for home. Need to figure out the logistics of clothes as I don’t want to tackle that long of a ride wearing a backpack with the days laundry in it. Maybe bring in 2 sets of clothes Thursday and bike everything home Friday. Hmmmm – that’s got potential.