TGIF

1:30 on a Friday. I don't want to be in the office. I want to be outside, or home doing laundry, or taking a nap. Or heck, even grocery shopping, which I have to do on my way home, else I cannot eat tonight or have a cup of coffee before I drive out to BF Egypt for a bike race. Better stop at the store...

Lots been going on. Finally took the plunge to FaceBook and as I was warned: what a time suck! Egad. I swore off any more of those dumb FB quizzes, but sometimes they really ARE fun. Especially on a day like today!

The move was fine. A rough transition though. Probably harder on my dog than me. I've lived alone for her entire life. Then I move into a multi-level town-home, with a male roommate (just a roommate, trust me), I take the dog's couch away and force her to be a dog and sleep in her dog bed and not on the furniture anymore, and the roommate is grumpy. Oh dear God. He is exactly like my step-Dad. Just a younger version. How can that be? Did I not learn enough life lessons living at home till I was 18? Jeesh. My dog gets a wee bit out of sorts when she's around my loud, obnoxious, negative, grumpy Dad, and we only visit once every few years. You can imagine her horror to having to live with that on a daily basis. She had an accident in the house the first week or so. Yikes! She NEVER has accidents. Ever. I was grateful for the carpet cleaner I'd purchased a few years ago, so I cleaned it up and vowed to keep her in my bedroom while I was out of the house. She'd had runny poop for almost the entire first week, and now she'd stopped drinking water. So I drowned her food with water, since her appetite seemed unaffected and this was my way of forcing water into her system. Well, now it's over a week, and I'm packed and ready to go race my MTB at Sea Otter. I decided to take the dog with me, just so I could keep an eye on her, and our last visit to the grass produced a bunch of bloody poops. Not good. I ended up calling the vet in tears, and begged them to get her in. Turned out it was just nerves, but she was dehydrated and they gave her a big shot of fluid under her skin, and sent us home with a bottle of doggy valium. She mostly slept it off and was a bit leary of the roommate for a long time (she's only started to come around him now, 4 months later!), but she was fine.

The roommate situation was pretty tough for me too. I've lived alone for almost 2 decades, and the last person I lived with was my ex-husband, Satan. Well, he had a name, but I prefer the nickname. It's more suitable. 4 months later, those things have mostly worked out. I still think he's the most OCD person on the planet, but I know him better and can give him grief for the stuff that used to completely freak me out. However, I came home the other night from work, and for whatever reason, he was in the office downstairs where we put bikes. He opened the door just as I was going to open it and there he stood: in a speedo. Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!! To his credit, he did try to cover up, but I'm sort of wondering what the hell he was doing in there, and he left in his car a few min later. I'm really hoping he put pants on first. I don't think I'll ask about that, because I really just don't want to know...

The red stapler guy is out of the picture. Completely. He apparently decided that he didn't want to see me anymore, but instead of being a man and talking to me about it, he just vanished. Not the full-on vanish, but the wimpy, "if I disappear and stop calling her, maybe she'll get it" type of vanishing act. Really disappointing in how he handled that one. I'm not so fragile that I'd fall apart and I had my reservations as it was. Fortunately for that, I wouldn't let myself get "too close" to him.

At the end of June, my Dad went into the hospital. Turned out, not only did he have a bad heart (which we all knew), but it was now only operating at 25% capacity. Add to that: he's 82. And add to that: he now had an infected gall bladder that needed to come out. So I get this news and I'm pretty shook up about it. And I have to race that weekend. So, not only did I get heat exhaustion racing at Benicia in 100-and-some-change degree temps (I threw up AND got the chills... yummy), I had to mentor the Burlingame Criterium by myself at 7:50 the next morning. And I felt like asssssss. I was sure that I was going to puke and get dropped, or get dropped and puke. Just wasn't sure of the order. I spent the first 15-min of the race in complete silence, as I was dying out there. I finally pulled my head out and started doing my job and ended up staying with the field. Unfortunately, there was a crash with 2 to go and as I swung wide and told everyone to keep going, I was already at the back and I stopped. The second I put my foot down, BLAM! Some chick rear-ended me and the impact blew the chain off, wrapped it around my crank and up in my spokes and down I went. Didn't get hurt, but it made me sooo mad and took a chunk of the paint and clearcoat off my downtube. Unreal. The next week I drove up to WA State with my dog and the bike, so I could spend some time with my Dad... He was up and down and up and down, and finally, after a few days, I saw a glimpse of his former self. Whew. The morning of the 4th of July, I went to go for a bike ride with my brother, and found my parents cat dead on the side of the highway. GAAAH. So I spent the late morning of the 4th, digging the cat off of the road, and burying him in their pasture. Poor kitty. My Dad's doing better now, but his health is still not great. Going home for Christmas this year. Might be the last one...

So I'm glad that summer is waning. It's been a year of change and ups and downs. I'm looking forward to my trip to Hawaii in October. Going for almost a full 2 weeks this time and I'm planning on doing a whole lot of nothing! Reading. Sunning. Driving around. Sleeping. Napping. Visiting the volcano, the SAFE way this time! And watching the Kona Ironman again. Heck, I might even do part of the bike ride this time. I'll have the time for it, certainly!