Well, we've been home since Sunday afternoon after a very efficient race back to NorCal from LA (we are NOT SoCal people, this is ever the more obvious after last week), but when I found our bar remodel only partially finished despite the woefully overachieving predictions from the contractor, I didn't have the spirit to blog about our return.
Look - I get really bummed out about shit that I convince myself will happen even though I KNOW it will not. Like, say, deluding myself into believing that remodeling projects will be done when the contractor says so.
Because they never are.
No matter how many times I'm disappointed in this way.
And no matter how many times Bubba gives me the whale eye when I'm, like, "Bubb - it's totally going to be all finished when we get home and then YAY I can put my kitchen away HOORAY!" on a drive home from LA.
You know - that shit happens all the time.
Anyway - the bar is nearly finished. And I will NOT fall for any more of this "It will be all done by the end of the week" crap because clearly, the end of the week will never come when predicted so I'm just going to let the end of this project be a fun surprise and meanwhile try not to choke the shit out of the contractor (who I love dearly and who does incredible work - I'm just very crabby about home remodeling). Fun!
Also, meanwhile I will share a few final details about the AIDS LifeCycle so that we can move on to HOLY SHIT THE GARDEN AND BEES WHOA.
There's a lot to be told there, to be sure.
Firstly though - did you know that I had a Blogger Blind Date during AIDS LifeCycle? I did. It was magnificent even though we didn't get to battle it out over heated games of air hockey.
Did you know I'm a brute at air hockey? I am. And now you know two things you didn't know before reading this post. Look at you - all big in the brains.
So - my Blogger Blind Date was with Wendy of Wisdom of the Moon (check out her new header - she took that photo all by her fancy self with her fancy camera. FANCY.) who I knew was going to be a slam dunk of Blogger Blind Dates. Much like I felt when I was meeting up with dig this chick - I wasn't worried. I knew we'd hit it off.
And not to go too far down the cliche road with this, but you just *know* when it's right.
Well, Wendy and I traded texts and phone calls and Trying Not To Be A Blogger Stalker Psychoness for a few days at the start of the ride before she finally found me taking pictures of many hot dudes (including Bubba!) at the start of Day 3 in Paso Robles.
We stood there, at the first turn of the ride that day, chatting and saying swears and meeting her daughter (she let me near her children - she may be wild in the brains) and cheering on our friends and the other riders FOR TWO HOURS.
|Awfully cheerful for a chilly early morning.|
Seriously. I'm not even exaggerating. I know it was at least two hours because Bubba took off in the first wave of riders at 6:30am, she found me around 7am and I didn't get in the car until about 9am.
I guess we hit it off. OR she was too afraid of me to run off screaming and begging for people to delete her personal email address from the internet universe so I'd leave her alone forever.
Whatever. It was great. And then we hung out at the start of Red Dress Day, where I got to meet her son (these kids are impressively well adjusted) and then at closing ceremonies where we chatted, blocked out the good viewing spots for incoming riders and photographed her kiddos.
|Too bad this kid's not photogenic at all. HA! Cute man.|
It was fab. I felt like we could probably go on chatting forever. I'll be in CO in July, Wends - maybe we get together then without the distraction of this silly 545 mile bike ride clogging up our chat time. AND - we get down on some air hockey.
Unless you're scared...
On to other final details though.
Firstly - if you looked through any of the photos, you may have noticed that I appear in precious few. That is because I'm taking them because, well, what the hell else am I doing all week? I mean, besides wine tasting, olive oil tasting, getting spa treatments and drinking in the middle of the day, of course.
Well, aside from my naughtiness, this is what I could be found doing most of the week.
|I live to chaperone wheels from one city to the next.|
|I'm smiling because I haven't had to change a flat in a week. Suck on that!|
In case you didn't catch that - it's another final detail of great importance. Particularly given our recent shitshow with tires and tubes. Like, we went on a 40 mile ride a few weeks ago, during which time I got THREE flats. So, you can imagine that we packed a lot of tubes and wheels and tires for this ride 13x longer than the Ride That Requires No Pedaling.
As for other details...Bubba finished in record time without injuries, bike trouble or other predicted tales of woe and then we spent a day fucking around in Santa Monica where people have NO sense of humor.
LA people, are you out there? Can you speak for your brethren and explain why everyone's so fucking humorless? I mean, I'm no chucklehead and I certainly don't engage people more than I absolutely must for survival, but even my trivial attempts to connect with wait staff, folks on the street or anyone other than Bubba once we left the race was met with blank stares.
Do I look like a scary loser monster with whom you refuse to make acquaintance?
No. I'm a nice enough person without any weeping wounds or facial deformities (shut up). I have decent behavior in public. I rarely punch people in the face.
What's the deal?
Anyway - in case you can't tell - we encountered some strange SoCal behaviors. Aside from most of the folks doing the ride. They were all amazingly fucking nice and chatty. Everyone else in SoCal - what the hells?
Though, to end this post without my bitching, let me say that when we started out to do this ride, I thought of it as just another event and by the end of it, my life was changed.
Really. And not even in a cheesy I-don't-really-mean-it kind of way.
We met some incredible people, experienced a week of positivity, supportiveness, friendliness and joy that I just did NOT expect. Bubba's already re-upped for next year and, oh, he may have a tentmate, too.
If we get REAL crazy, there may be a tandem involved.
Talk about your wild shit.