I am so grateful...

Today has been topsy-turvy. I went to vote this morning. I was on top of the world. Huge smile on my face. Back on track to getting into work on time again, and I'd done my civic duty by voting. I felt the hopefulness the country felt this morning.

Then I got stuck in traffic. Then my phone rang. My cousin was on the phone, telling me that my favorite Uncle, Robert, had passed away early this morning. He had been sick, but my Great-Aunt, Hazel, had been covering for him - he had dementia and they had to put him into a nursing home. I only found this out last Friday. I had no time for any of this to sink in. I got off the phone with my cousin, and called Hazel. As soon as she got on the phone, I burst into tears. I only talked to her for a short while, but continued bawling my eyes out, the rest of the way to work. Fortunately for me, traffic was moving at about 15 mph, so I didn't endanger myself or anyone else. Finally, after trying to work, and failing, I came back home. I rode my bike, which only made my back hurt and didn't make me feel better.

I've been watching the telly, and now that the networks can predict a President elect, I am again, in tears. But these are tears of joy. Tears of hope. Tears of relief.

And Christ, I have a headache. Whenever I cry, I sweat. And I get a gnarly headache. It's bad... I seem to be a bit more tearful than normal, which the 2nd glass of wine is probably NOT helping, but wow.

I can't believe my Uncle Robert got out of voting by dying. I guess that's a valid excuse. I'm grateful that I'll be able to go to his funeral on Friday morning in Kansas. And I really hope someone tells the story about when Robert won the County Commissioner seat in the county in Kansas in which he and Hazel live in. They told me this story many, many years ago, and I was so shocked, but amused. It's one of those stories that will stay with me and make me smile for the rest of my life... Robert won the election. Kind of like tonight - by a landslide. He and Hazel were celebrating a bit, and on the way home, Hazel got sick. Out the car window (acccckkkkk!!!). Imagine your Grandma barfing out the car window, and you get the picture. He got them both home and into bed. Sometime in the middle of the night, Robert woke up. Sick as a dog. He knew he was going to throw up, so he jumped out of bed, and ran down the hall to the bathroom. Only he didn't make it. He puked in the hall while running. And then he stepped in it. To add to all that humiliation, he then slipped and fell down - into his own vomit! Gross, but funny as hell. I'll always cherish that story. And even though I'm both sad for him, and elated for our country, it makes me smile.

I will never forget today...

Trying to make sense of the senseless

After the horrible weekend of cycling tragedies in the Bay Area, I was having trouble being motivated and staying focused yesterday (turn head to view pic till I figure out how the hell to rotate it - sorry!).

To summarize: Sean Smith (Team Oakland) was hit and left for dead Friday morning while commuting to work in Oakland. Thankfully, he's alive. Then the tragedy with Kristi Gough and Matt Peterson on Sunday morning. Then I heard that three Alto Velo riders were descending Skyline near Alice's when a car turned directly in front of them, and this was Sunday afternoon! Thankfully, after a trip to the ER, the three of them are all alive too. The only bright spot was that the man who ran over MaryAnn Levenson was sentenced last Friday and taken into custody directly in front of her. Thank God for that. I don't think the sentence was stiff enough, but at least something was done, and the Levenson's can finally heave a small sigh of relief and get on with their lives.

After reading and re-reading the stupid bit of "journalism" in the Mercury News regarding Sunday's horrible accident, it seemed to me that they glossed over what the cop DID and without actually saying IT, lay blame on the cyclists. I was seething. What the hell happened to reporting the FACTS? I don't care what your opinion is, as a reporter, it's your JOB to report the facts. Maybe I'm old fashioned, but damn. I sat down and wrote a scathing letter to the editor of the Merc News, cc'ing the ass-clown reporter that originally penned the piece. I chewed them out for exactly the above: slanting the story to make it sound like it was the cyclists' fault, and irresponsible journalism. What's happened to innocent until proven guilty? We've become a society of guilty until proven innocent, which is so back-ass-wards, and I blame the media. I threatened to pull my subscription (which I've held for six years) if they didn't accurately report the story.

Now I'm not saying that my letter has even been READ yet, as I'm sure the cycling community (and hopefully the community at large) railed on them for that piece of garbage they printed in the paper yesterday. But today, they printed (front page again, mind you) a completely re-written piece. They even added two reporters to the story, which I'm assuming helped the original journalist, since it was clear that the person couldn't write their way out of a paper bag.

I left work early yesterday because I just was so profoundly sad. I didn't want to be there. I didn't want to be home. And I certainly didn't want to be on my bike. So I drove to the ocean. The long way. Of course, from Mountain View, the ocean IS the long way. But I needed to clear my head and get some perspective. As I stood and took in the view and wonderful smells, I hoped that this tragedy would be treated delicately, and an investigation would be swift and impartial. And that justice will be served. I decided to go back to something I used to do working in an AIDS Hospice in Seattle. I'm going to plant some things in honor of Kristi and Matt. I'm going to look for a plant or flowering plant which will return year after year. Something beautiful to look at, and that won't fade away at the end of the fall. I'm also going to plant something that will keep on giving. A tomato plant (or 3). I've been wanting to do this for awhile, and now I have the impetus to make it happen.

Call someone you love, and tell them so. Life is short.

Our pets (best friends)

I love my dog. Just love her. And because I love her so much, I'm pretty fanatical about keeping her on her leash and in my direct control at all times. Of course, when she was a puppy, she sometimes got out of the yard by squeezing her fat little body under my fence. It obviously freaked me out because I lived on a busy street in Seattle. Once, when I was on vacation, her sitter left their back gate open and she escaped. Luckily, they found her rather quickly, but I'll never forget the phone call when I was told. I was sitting in my rental car, in Hawaii. It was warm, and peaceful and beautiful. And I was so upset that I nearly threw up.

Today, I decided to commute to/from work on my bike. The ride in was miserable. Cold, damp, foggy. I didn't warm up until lunchtime. I figured the ride home would be better. The sun had come out, blue sky, no fog. But it was cold as sh*t. On "Bike Boulevard" in Palo Alto (Bryant St.) I was nearly hit by 2 cars and 2 cyclists (one weaved in front of me, the other rounde the corner on the wrong side of the road - dumbasses.). This was my sign.

As I turned off of Middlefield Road onto Ringwood, it seemed like it would be a nice ride. Light traffic, a slight tailwind. I was running out of daylight, so I was motoring, trying to get back to my car at the Redwood City Caltrain station. Up the road, near a school, I saw a person standing in the bike lane. I thought it was a kid. The figure looked small and childlike, and it was near the school. As I got closer, I saw that the figure was bent down, I assumed messing with their skateboard or scooter, and partially in the road AND the bike lane. I was annoyed. I hoped that I could get around them and not get pegged by a car. As I passed by, I realized what had happened and it both sickened me and broke my heart. The figure was an older women. She was crouched down, trying to turn her small dog over, to possibly get some life back into it. I saw the small, light brown body. The stiff legs. The small pool of blood. And then I heard her sobbing. 2 children were across the street, a little further down, watching.

I was running out of daylight and couldn't stop, although it took everything I had in me to not turn around and go back and try to comfort her. But what could I do? I cried. All the way back to my car. I cried because I was sad for this poor woman, who's best friend had somehow gotten out and into the path of a car. I cried because I realized how lucky I was that nothing ever happened to my dog. All the times she got out of my yard, she was spared. And I cried because I was annoyed at her. How utterly selfish of me. I'm ashamed that I was annoyed, and I hope it makes me more patient with people. You just never know what someone is going through, why they're doing what they're doing at that particular moment in time.

Once I got into my car, I cried some more. And I came home and hugged and hugged and hugged my dog. And I hope all of my friends with pets keep them safe and hold them next to your hearts, because I never want anyone I care about to go through what that poor woman was going through tonight.