Why does everything take longer than you think it will?
Over the weekend, my project was to finish painting the downstairs guest suite, and sew the tablecloth for the kitchen down there. Every simple facet of that turned into a convoluted mess. For example, I unscrewed the little clamps that secure the frameless bathroom mirror to the wall, and *wham!* The bathroom mirror slid with a thud onto the counter because no one had glued it to the wall. I think I speak for everyone when I say, "What the?!" Luckily, it didn't break, but I had to remove all the light bulbs on the side lights to lift the mirror out.
Then, in the hallway, another strange full-length mirror was attached to the wall. I could tell this one wasn't glued, which was a good thing in this case. I unscrewed it, wondering why anyone would put a mirror in such a weird location, and as I lifted it away from the wall, I realized why: it was covering a huge hole in the drywall. So painting the hall got put on hold in order to patch the drywall. I'll be sanding the joint compound down and texturing it tonight. Paint on Tuesday, maybe.
Now let's talk tablecloths. Flat, rectangular swaths of fabric that require little construction. Right? Wrong. Oh so very wrong. After two weeks of trial and error (don't ask — my brain just could not figure anything out), two weeks of sewing the wrong sides together, unpicking, mis-cutting, going back to the fabric store for more supplies, running out of thread, et cetera, I finally — finally! — finished the damn thing yesterday. And you know what? It looks as mundane and pointless as any tablecloth ever does. All that work, so people can spill mac & cheese on it. Why do I do it to myself?
Sometimes I feel like I'm making major strides of progress. Other times I feel like an ant, running frantically around in directionless circles.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Monday, July 12, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
The Pups Visit Zion NP
Beautiful thunderstorm in Zion over the weekend, so of course I had to go experience it. These photos are right before the rains came through.
Monday, June 7, 2010
Little Red Riding Hood: The Century!
Just wanted to post a quick note about how much fun Shari and I had doing the Little Red Riding Hood century ride. As a mtn biker who doesn't even own a road bike, I found the whole experience delightfully new, fun, and interesting.
One thing that was cool was that I could enjoy the scenery while I was riding, instead of being focused on negotiating technical terrain, and only checking out the view when I stop at the crest of a hill or something. So that was nice.
Another great thing were the people — 3000 other women riders, all of whom were nice, happy, courteous, and fun. I can't believe some of the people who finished an entire century! That's an incredibly long distance, and so many women did it with a smile. Hahaha...
And of course I have to mention the food. Now, mtn bikers, I think, are incapable of ever having an organized ride like this that didn't turn into a race. The closest thing I've seen is the Appetite Seminar (the "Turkey Day Ride") and I'm almost positive the only reason that ride stays casual is that it's specifically NOT organized. There's no way you could have a start time, and not have people pin it, and elbow you out of the way at the starting line. Hahaha... So anyway, with every organized ride basically being a quest to see who is the toughest, you have to bring your own food. Maybe there'll be an aid station where people hand you paper cups of water or Gatorade as you zip past, but most likely you're on your own. If you cramp up, or forget to bring enough food or water, too-bad-so-sad-better-luck-next-time.
Not so at Little Red! Every 10 or so miles was the most elaborate spread I've ever seen. Not only did they have the basics (water, Gatorade stuff, sports gels) but they had fresh fruit, cookies, granola bars, bagels, candy — everything you could possibly imagine and then some! At mile 50 was the "lunch aid station," and seriously, you can't call this an aid station. It was more like a catered resort tent. Sandwiches, drinks, all the stuff from the other aid stations plus a whole lot more.
And all served and maintained by very cute men. :)
Shari taught me all the hand signals that roadies to use (to, like, warn each other when there's something technical coming up, or if they're going to slow down or swerve — I mean, what the heck!) and she basically kicked butt the whole time. I bonked near the end, exhausted, grouchy, and ready to throw my bike into the weeds, sit down, and wait for more hot male attendants to, *ahem* attend to me. But she got me through it. She could have gone much faster (and probably wanted to, as we were so close to finishing) but she was awesome and stuck right with me. We crossed the finish line at the same time, staggered off our bikes, and headed to yet another fantastic food tent, this one stocked with celebratory post-ride items like ice cream and chocolate-dipped strawberries.
We both wore our matching "Super Red" T-shirts on the way home.
Thanks for the fun ride, Shari! I'm looking forward to the next one.
One thing that was cool was that I could enjoy the scenery while I was riding, instead of being focused on negotiating technical terrain, and only checking out the view when I stop at the crest of a hill or something. So that was nice.
Another great thing were the people — 3000 other women riders, all of whom were nice, happy, courteous, and fun. I can't believe some of the people who finished an entire century! That's an incredibly long distance, and so many women did it with a smile. Hahaha...
And of course I have to mention the food. Now, mtn bikers, I think, are incapable of ever having an organized ride like this that didn't turn into a race. The closest thing I've seen is the Appetite Seminar (the "Turkey Day Ride") and I'm almost positive the only reason that ride stays casual is that it's specifically NOT organized. There's no way you could have a start time, and not have people pin it, and elbow you out of the way at the starting line. Hahaha... So anyway, with every organized ride basically being a quest to see who is the toughest, you have to bring your own food. Maybe there'll be an aid station where people hand you paper cups of water or Gatorade as you zip past, but most likely you're on your own. If you cramp up, or forget to bring enough food or water, too-bad-so-sad-better-luck-next-time.
Not so at Little Red! Every 10 or so miles was the most elaborate spread I've ever seen. Not only did they have the basics (water, Gatorade stuff, sports gels) but they had fresh fruit, cookies, granola bars, bagels, candy — everything you could possibly imagine and then some! At mile 50 was the "lunch aid station," and seriously, you can't call this an aid station. It was more like a catered resort tent. Sandwiches, drinks, all the stuff from the other aid stations plus a whole lot more.
And all served and maintained by very cute men. :)
Shari taught me all the hand signals that roadies to use (to, like, warn each other when there's something technical coming up, or if they're going to slow down or swerve — I mean, what the heck!) and she basically kicked butt the whole time. I bonked near the end, exhausted, grouchy, and ready to throw my bike into the weeds, sit down, and wait for more hot male attendants to, *ahem* attend to me. But she got me through it. She could have gone much faster (and probably wanted to, as we were so close to finishing) but she was awesome and stuck right with me. We crossed the finish line at the same time, staggered off our bikes, and headed to yet another fantastic food tent, this one stocked with celebratory post-ride items like ice cream and chocolate-dipped strawberries.
We both wore our matching "Super Red" T-shirts on the way home.
Thanks for the fun ride, Shari! I'm looking forward to the next one.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
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