Learning, Learning

May was Bike to Work Month in Seattle. The Cascade Bicycle Club sponsors this big hoopla--t-shirts and water bottles and smack-talking online forums--and I unwisely volunteered to captain a team at work. Have you met me? Have I met me? This was extremely out of character. Not the captain (boss!) part, but the part about, um, exercise. BLECH. I hate to exercise! Who wants to exercise when you can be reading cookbooks? Or watching The Biggest Loser?

Each team member is required to make the trek to work on two wheels at least five times during the month. Today is May 31...I made three trips. Pa.the.tic. But I did make three whole trips, which is something. It's progress, right? And now I will share with you, fellow butterballs, the massive list of excuses I concocted this month. Chow down.

May 1: It's too hot (high of 75).
May 2: It's too rainy.
May 3: I hopped in the car and didn't even think about biking until I got to work! Oops!
May 4: My asthma is really flaring up today.
May 5: I couldn't remember the combo to my bike lock.
May 6: It's the day before my birthday.
May 7: It's my birthday!
May 8: I'm recovering from my birthday.
May 9: My husband broke my bike lock.
May 10: The trail has sooooo many bumps in it from all those rooty trees.
May 11: Crime is up in the U-District.
May 12: I don't know where to park my bike at work.
May 13: My team will carry us (this happened, because we won the contest).
May 14: My team will not notice (this did not happen).
May 15: Flat tire!
May 16: I'm running late.
May 17: I RODE TO WORK! Dustin dragged me to work on Friday night. This counts.
May 18: Helmet hair is not appropriate for volunteer interviews.
May 19: I'm heading straight to my therapist after work.
May 20: My husband needs a ride home.
May 21: I'm bringing cookies to the office, and they'll get squished in my messenger bag!
May 22: My messenger bag is missing the cross strap.
May 23: It's too hot (high of 70).
May 24: Cramps.
May 25: I might be pregnant.
May 26: I am so traumatized by that pregnancy scare.
May 27: I feel guilty that it's the end of May, but not guilty enough to ride.
May 28: I RODE TO WORK! And it actually felt incredible.
May 29: I RODE TO WORK AGAIN! Got v. sunburned.
May 30. Sounders game.
May 31: Helping friends move=biking failure.

Here's to grand delusions!

A Personal Matter

Today I was eating a popsicle on the patio at PCC in Fremont, just loving the fact that my job on Fridays includes exactly that sort of thing. Popsicles. And small children.

My darling Gabs, who turned two on Saturday, was sitting on my lap when I felt the need to, um, break a little wind. I figured there were lots of people walking by chatting, cars vrooming past, dogs barking, and the usual Fremont hubbub of activists and clipboards. No one would notice my indiscretion.

So lo and behold, the child hears my (very minor, very ladylike) toot, and says, "Ooooooh, Holly. Poopy! Poopy diaper! Change your diaper, Holly!" And she is not at all timid in screaming these accusations. The kid is loud. And she isn't a mumbler either, every single bike commuter within earshot turned to look.

Of course I chuckled along and said, "Gee! What a bummer. You have to walk all the way home with a poopy diaper. BUMMER."

She looks at me, sees straight through my cover story, and scoffs, "SICK."

Not that I'm opening that can o' worms again...

If I were to plan another wedding, this J.Crew confection would be the first one I'd try.

Goodbye, Sweet House

My parents closed on the sale of our house in Parker this week. But the new owners are really cute--young newlyweds, just like us! :)

Farewell, 11602 Sagewood Lane. Thanks for the memories.

Hungry?

One of my favorite Seattle food blogs is called All You Can Eat, written by Seattle Times' Nancy Leson. It's, forgive me, delicious. She's almost always teasing me with some new restaurant review, an almost-simple-enough-that-it's-possible recipe, or a warm, fuzzy human interest story that involves donuts and rollie pollie children.

Today Nancy posted about something I'm, here I go again, going to chew on a bit. (Bunny trail alert: I blame the incessant punnery on Susan Boyle, the woman who has inspired every cliche in my soul to rise up and SEIZE THE DAY.)

Said chewing is on a project via The United Way, called the Hunger Challenge. The goal is to eat all three meals on $7 each day--salt and pepper don't count, but every other item does. You can't use any items already stocked in the pantry, fridge or sock drawer.

The $7 daily max (only $12 for two-person households) is based on the daily value of food stamps for Washington residents. Yeah, not much. I couldn't believe it either.

So I'm thinking about taking this challenge, and of course, Nancy's blog gives a bunch of great ideas for how to follow the other rules--include protein, fresh veggies and fruit, and refuse any food "gifting" from family, friends, or the guest chef at Metropolitan Market (like you'll even go near that place on the $7 diet).

Any takers? :)

Evidence That Demands a Verdict*

Last night I cleaned out the deep, dark recesses of my deep, dark purse. There was one witness, my husband. This is what he saw.

1. Receipts from Target, Target, J.Crew, my therapist (ha! they don't give receipts, silly), Metropolitan Market, Safeway, Target, Thai Tom, and Ten Pachi Hair Salon. Speaks volumes.

2. One ham sandwich, from yesterday, mind you, but still. A ham sandwich in my purse. I am a bag lady.

3. An apple. To match sandwich, obviously.

4. Take-out menu from Cedars. 

5. At least five wrappers from the green tea echinacea lozenges I've been sucking down this week. SO good. It's my favorite thing about sick. 

6. More receipts from Target, this time for returns (see #1).

7. Random checkbook.

8. Two phones--one working iPhone, one nonworking Razor.

9. Three earrings and one rhinestone, costume-like necklace. From a certain Cinderella costume at, ahem, Halloween.

10. Church bulletins from two very different churches. 

11. Samples of Cetaphil Face Wash, Purpose Daily Cleanser, and Aquaphor. Somebody loves her some dermatology office!

12. Two letters, both stamped and addressed. From two weeks ago.

13. Pen I took from J.Crew the day I spontaneously applied to work at the new Crewcuts. Pen was taken after I told the hiring manager that I "already have a real job." Shining moment. They have yet to call. 

14. One size four diaper. You JUST NEVER KNOW. The nanny in me never dies.

15. Four balled-up kleenexes. 

16. Key to Kelsey's old car.

17. Key to Kelsey's new car.

18. Key to Brittany's house.

19. My 2009 to-do list (many items already checked, surprisingly!).

20. My favorite hot-pink MAC Lipglass. 

Take the clean-purse challenge, folks. Now tell me what you find!

*Obviously I am making a biblical allusion. Or at least one to annoyingly titled Christian literature. Get with it. 

Ayayay

If the world would stop abusing children, I'd be okay with that.

If people would drive less aggressively, I'd be okay with that. 

If we could all be given one hour a day to appreciate art without interruption, I'd be okay with that.

If I could overcome my aversion to classic literature, I'd be okay with that. 

If blogging meant I was a real live writer and I was eligible to camp out at the Hugo House and smoke cigars, I'd be really okay with that.

If I didn't make mistakes in friendship, I'd be okay with that.

If cancer didn't eat up families and plans and dreams, I'd be okay with that.

If schizophrenia didn't paralyze people with untapped potential, I'd be okay with that, too.

If I could refrain from crying during Oprah, or refrain from admitting I like Oprah, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have a limitless shopping spree at Costco, I'd be extremely okay with that.

If I made an appearance on Jay Leno as a very popular guest, I'd be okay with that.

If I understood all the literary allusions I came across in NYTimes Op-Eds, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have my mom's strawberry cake and eat it, too, I'd be okay with that.

If I could have a wee babe right now and not be at all interrupted, I'd be okay with that.

If I could make sure that all the people I love are within walking distance from my house, I'd be okay with that.

See? I'm not hard to please. I'm okay with a LOT of stuff.