A week of tu-tus and spandex.

You guys have all seen that no sew tu-tu pattern out in the crafty blog world, have you not?

You know the one where moms cinch some strips of tulle onto a length of ribbon and then tie it cutely around their young daughter's waist for, say, Halloween or a twirl around the living room and what have you.

You've seen this. Don't act like you've been able to ignore its many appearances on one million blogs. Even I - woman without kiddos - have seen this pattern. And, I'll fully admit to wanting to make one.

I'm not really sure why I've wanted to make one, though I do harbor some nostalgic feelings for my little girl ballerina days that were short-lived and then shoved out of the way by the likes of swim team and soccer, but that has never been enough to get me to buy yards and yards of tulle and spend a hot 20 minutes making the cutest craft on the planet.

Seriously. It's the cutest. And you don't have to sew anything. And it is so damn easy. And I'm so glad I have a husband who needed a tu-tu.

Yeah - I'll have to explain that.

See, when I met Bubba oh so many years ago, I certainly never imagined that I'd ever see him in spandex, much less a tu-tu.

Though, come to think of it, I don't usually imagine the Spandexability or Tu-tu-ability of people in general, but in Bubba's case, I definitely would have hit a wall. The man just doesn't scream SPANDEX ME or WRAP ME IN TULLE in any way.

Plaid - maybe and Gore-tex - definitely, but spandex, tulle or, as I tend to call them - Stretchy Pants - No. Way.

Like, he and Prince share zero wardrobe items in common.

However, about a dozen years after we met, this dude Bubba decided that he was going to do the AIDS LifeCycle.

Which is where a bunch of crazies ride their bikes from San Francisco to LA after raising a shit ton of money for regional AIDS organizations while usually wearing spandexy cyclist gear and then on one day they wear red dresses.

And on Red Dress Day, Bubba will be wearing a red tu-tu.

The idea goes that when everyone's riding up the twisting hills in their red attire, they'll look like a red AIDS ribbon. And they'll be wearing dresses while riding a bike which is sorta fun in a Well, we're out here for a week riding the bike, we better spice it up somehow kinda way.

When packing for a 545 mile bike ride, one must not forget the tu-tu and butt butter.

So, when Bubba started fingering the redder and dressier items in my closet while mumbling about Red Dress Day, I figured I'd better come up with an alternative to distract him from dragging anything actually wearable out onto the road bike.

And then, as though possessed by the Google Reader Devil, I announced that I would make him a tu-tu. A red one. It will be awesome. YOU'LL LOVE IT DON'T SAY NO AND TAKE THIS AWAY FROM ME.

He agreed.

And on Saturday, after a predictably annoying trip to Hancock Fabrics (What is WITH those people? GAH. I wonder if the mental hospital has arranged some sort of work release program...), I stood in my mostly destroyed kitchen and made my husband a tu-tu to wear while he rides his bike.

And that actually might not have been the weirdest thing I said that day.

Though it's definitely in the running.

Also good:

• I'm going to walk the frog
• Let's see if the beebs have made any more beebies
• May I have some more tonic in this G&T? It's too strong.

The weirdness.

And this is also my way of coming around on the hints from yesterday where I said that I'd return with information about Bubba, spandex and the uglier parts of CA.

Specifically - I'm going along with Bubba, as his personal roadie, to escort him daily from the end of the rides to hot tub-equipped hotels and restaurants that don't start with Mc, and to do mid-week chamois laundry, take pictures of the scenery (and him wearing spandex) and refill the ice bucket.

You know - the glamorous things in life.

If you want to follow along on our little stretchy journey, check out the slideshow sitting on my sidebar there. I'll be updating the photos every day when we get back to our (sometimes craptastic) hotel room and figure out the fucking wi-fi, which I fully anticipate loathing by the end of our trip.

(It will be like this, except with more pictures. You get it.)

Hotel wi-fi is never as good as it's made out to be. Am I right?

Anyway. Follow along that way or, if you don't want to hear about some wild dude riding his bike to LA, skip the blog for the week, because I imagine that's what's going to consume my posts for the duration.

And then I'll come home and freak out about the garden that BETTER be doing some impressive growing of watermelon seedlings because so far - ZERO GERMINATION. Sorry, Team Melons, so far you're totally getting shown up by Team Penis, I MEAN, Team Cucumber.

Bring it, Melons!