Portland to D.C. - Day 1

(Independence) Day 1 – Portland, OR – Ogden, UT (730 miles)
Departure time: 8:19am PST
Arrival time: 11:00pm MST
Dead deer: 9
Penske Trucks traveling in the opposite direction: 8
Wish I had brought: hand sanitizer. my girlfriend.
Pictures


Traci starts law school at George Washington University in Washington D.C. In just over six weeks. She's been working madly to organize the transport of the furniture and stuff from mom's house and her things in her Denver apartment, to her new place in D.C. The final solution was to rent a U-Haul and drive across the country, stopping in Denver to pick up the rest of her stuff.

That's where I come in. Normally mom would be the logical candidate to help her drive and get settled in but since that's not an option anymore, I took on the role of sloppy seconds and agreed to do the job. My summer is turning out to be incredibly packed, despite (or perhaps because of) the fact that I have no job. I had a week-long window of availability between our beach trip last weekend and our Seattle to Portland ride on the 14th of July. We spent yesterday moving things from the storage space to the truck and now here we are, setting off across country on Independence Invasion day. By the end, we'll have either enjoyed a sisterly bonding adventure, or be really glad to be living three thousand miles apart.

I got up at 5:30 this morning and spent some time having breakfast with Jess and getting those last few Internet related to-do's done before I finished packing and we headed out.

I somehow forgot to buy turkey for our cooler yesterday so we couldn't leave town without just one more stop at New Seasons. I know they have grocery stores in other parts of the country, but I couldn't help feeling like we were about to leave civilization and there would be nothing to look forward to except a sea of Shell stations and rest areas.

I splurged for the expensive fresh cut turkey. We got into the truck and I opened the cooler and realized something important.

“We forgot ice,” I told Traci and we smacked our collective foreheads. It was a lot like trying to get out of the house, where I inevitably end up going upstairs eight separate times for things I forgot. But we finally got it together and headed for the open road.

It's amazing to me how much stuff I think I “need” to survive away from home for a week. And by stuff, I'm not talking about things like snacks, water & underwear. No, the packing list that concerned me the most contained the following items:

• computer & cord (w/ lighter attachment!)


• podium pad (to keep lap cool)


• camera (new!)


• books & journal


• Ipod & car radio adapter


• headphones


• cell phone & charger


• Battlestar Galactica DVD


• keys


• wallet

That's right, it's all about communication and entertainment. It's telling that I left the three bottles of water I bought for the trip in the front hallway by the door and it took until Boise for me to notice.

The first order of business was to break out my laptop and test out the lighter adapter cord. Every time I go on a road trip and get all excited about all the writing I can do while I'm not driving, the lighter doesn't work and I have to fall back on plan B. It's happened enough that I was starting to doubt the cord instead of the lighters in the various cars. With eight days of driving ahead of us, it was with some trepidation that I stuck the plug in to see if my little icon would switch from the battery symbol with it's shrinkage percentage of power left, to a comforting little picture of an electric cord. Before I even got it plugged in though, I saw the little blue light of success.

Yay! That means I'll have lots of time in the car to document this trip with the navel gazing detail you've all come to know and love/hate. And on a more practical note, I'll have plenty of time to do my homework for my on line Photoshop class.

That brought me to item number two, music organization. I have been missing the cord that connects my Ipod to my computer for a number of months now and I finally found it late last night which meant I could finally update my Ipod play lists. I decided to spend my first batch of free time rating all my songs and making new play lists. Suddenly 1500+ songs didn't seem like nearly enough to get across the whole country, but since I only have control while I'm driving, maybe I'll get by.I got behind the wheel for the first time in Pendleton, OR. I hadn't driven it at all yet, so I spent a few miles getting used to the feel and the fact that looking in the rear view mirror was utterly useless. Luckily that stretch of road is pretty deserted, so there was hardly ever anyone behind me anyway. But I never did stop looking at it or turning my head before changing lanes, as if I could actually see anything that way. Car habits die hard.

My first shift went pretty well. My biggest concern about this trip has been the fact that I pretty much hate driving and it's been a long time since I did a long distance trip. I wasn't sure about my stamina level, even for three hour shifts. Like reading a book for some people, sometimes just the act of getting behind the wheel with a long boring road ahead is enough to make my eyes droop. Fortunately, after an initial tiny slump, my play list kicked in and I actually started to have a good time. Listening to Salt n Pepper pared with Disney's Greatest Hits can do that for you.

Another concern I had about the trip was being trapped in a confined space for long hours with my sister. I love her dearly, but she does chatter on sometimes (most of the time) in a most unstoppable fashion. So far, my fears have not been realized. In the car, she's generally quiet except for pointing out good scenery, occasional memories of trips gone by with mom etc. Last time they drove this route, they stayed in Ogden as well and mom saw someone she knew in the motel parking lot. So typical. When we stop at towns or rest stops, word flow returns to normal, but that's fine with me. And (unlike me) she doesn't even sing along with her music.

A few early observations:

1. Rest areas in the middle of nowhere are not big on stocking soap. :(
2. Small towns really are different. We have not stopped once that someone hasn't said a friendly hello and/or tried to start a conversation.
3. Stretching outside the car in 103 degree heat—it's just like hot yoga!
4. You can take the girl off the bike but you can't take the cyclist out of the girl. I just read (book title) about a middle aged, out of shape writer who decided to bike across the country so, even more so than usual, I look at the road as a cyclist, checking out things like the width and smoothness of the shoulder, the presence or lack of rumble strips and the grades and lengths of the climbs. We've been on the road less than half a day and I miss my bike already. I saw a car with two high end mountain bikes at a rest stop and couldn't help striking up conversation with the occupants on the way back from the bathroom. They were on their way to trails in Wallawa, from Portland. I will definitely bike across the country someday.
5. There are way too many dead Bambi's by the side of the road between The Dalles and Ontario.
6. T.B.S. (Tiny Bladder Syndrome). It's not just for biking anymore! Right now we're hoping I can make the 72 mile gap between rest areas, as there is not much cover by the side of the road... Traci is very disgusted by this inconvenience.

We stopped in La Grande for our first refueling. I'm really glad not to be paying for the gas on this trip. If prices keep going up, those Oxen might start to look pretty good. I was thinking as I drove that when gas does run out, people are going to have to get to whichever part of the country they want to spend their days in and stay there.

I got out of the car, just to be getting out and then decided to go into the store for a snack. When I went back to the passenger side door to get my wallet, there was a bee hovering next to the big yellow truck as if it had hit the mother load. I waited for it to figure out that the truck wasn't a flower, but it didn't seem to be getting the clue, so I went to the driver's side.

“Convenience” stores are proof that Satan exists. What is about them that makes me feel like I have buy something, even when there's clearly no need? I will make it my goal to escape one with my wallet unscathed. So far I resisted powdered donuts (too messy) in favor of snack pack pudding, which I haven't touched yet. Also, Traci has gotten me hooked on Lipton PureLeaf ice tea, which doesn't help the T.B.S.

My driving shift ended in Ontario, our last stop in Oregon. I have any number of projects to work on while I'm not driving. One of the top three is learning all the features of my new Pentax Optio M20 camera. I've been reading the manual from the beginning so I can at least get an idea of all the cool features and then look them up later. If this post ends up with embedded video, then I will have checked of one of those low priority oh-I-need-to-learn-that goals.

Boise came up not long after and we left the highway for a little while so Traci could show me her turf. Boise is one of her frequent stops while she's working so she's got a fondness for it. She even mentioned she wouldn't mind ending up living there. What I saw of it did seem nice. I saw people riding bikes for the first time since leaving Portland (no helmets) and got all nostalgic again. “Yup,” Traci commented, “there's plenty of your people here.”

We drove into downtown and she showed me the Red Lion where she stays on work trips, the mall she goes to, the movie theatre etc. Suddenly she lit up like a kid on Christmas. “Let's go to the ice cream place!” There was some worry whether it would be open on a holiday but when we pulled up, there were plenty of people sitting outside the fanci Freeze, including an older couple on matching Specialized hybrids. I had the urge to ask if I could take a spin around the block but, like kissing the babies of strangers, I felt it would probably be frowned on and resisted.

fanci Freeze was worth getting excited about and here's why:



Originally, we planned to stop for an early dinner, but after filling up on Boston sundaes (my girlfriend isn't reading this is she?) we decided to wait. If we can't find an open restaurant in Ogden, we still have plenty of sandwich makings and fruit in the cooler. As we headed back to the freeway, we passed the Emerald Bar where Traci and I could both go dancing if she does move to Boise—the subtitle under the bar name read, “Straight Friendly.”

Traci chose the ultimate pop play list for her driving shift and as each new song comes up, there are a lot of chorus of “Seriously!?” or just outright hysterical laughter while simultaneously turning up the volume. Fortunately, our musical tastes have a wide overlapping streak in the area of anything smacking of vintage pop/disco/cheesy stuff. A few examples: 'Hello' by Lionel Ritchie, Candy Girl by New Edition and (wait for it), the remake* of the Christopher Cross song 'Sailing' by (wait for it again) N'Sync.

Things were uneventful for a while after Boise. The Snake River lived up to it's name as we passed over it several times while going in a basically straight line. The landscape was brown and featureless for the most part, giving me no reason to look up from my typing until a few miles before Wendell. Traci said, “Animals,” and pointed out the window. My nose told me it was either cows or horses so I didn't look up. Then she suddenly shouted again, “ANIMALS!!” I looked up to see a herd of seven or eight puppies (yes, you read that right) running west along the shoulder of the eastbound highway. They looked insanely happy, like they were so excited to have escaped.

We were horrified. They could get run over any moment, but there was no way we had time to stop and dodge traffic in the hope of catching them, even if we'd been willing to. I like puppies, but my girlfriend would be slightly put out if I got run over trying to save a bunch of them. So we did the next best thing and called the Wendell police and told them the mile marker where we'd seen them and which direction they were going. The female officer assured me someone would check it out. We felt slightly better after that. I hope they use the sirens to get there.

Mile 590, I was typing away and Traci said something. I didn't catch it and it seemed like something that might require a response.

“What?”

“You missed your cue.”

I thought she said 'q'. I knew she had been playing the alphabet game by herself so I started looking around for a road sign. There was nothing.

She saw me looking around and said, “You're Paul. You missed your cue!”

That's when I finally realized that “The Girl is Mine” had just come up on the Ipod shuffle and she had been singing along and now it was Paul McCartney's verse.

I burst out laughing. It was too late to pick up my verse, but I was ready when the next one came. By the end we were both laughing too hard to really get the talking parts right:

P: Michael, we're not going to fight about this, OK?
M: I told you, I'm a lover, not a fighter.
P: I've heard it all before, Michael
. She told me that I'm her forever lover you know, don't you remember?
M:Well, after loving me, she said she could never love another
P: Is that what she said?
M: Yes, She said it, you keep dreaming.
P: I don't belieeeeeeeeeeeeeeve it...

This song just gets better with age, given the irony of Michael's proclivities. We both agreed that Paul 'wins' in the song. And since I was playing Paul and the girl is actually mine, it works out both ways.

After that I joined in the alphabet fun because, what's a road trip without the alphabet game? I took the early lead, but by 'j', we were even again and then spent the next few letters leap-frogging each other. Then we passed by the town we were in and letters got scarce. Traci got 'q' off “Quality" on the only semi for miles around and that proved to be my undoing. I was hoping the glare from the setting sun would blind her to the hazmat check point, but no such luck. Round 1 to Traci.

About 40 miles from Ogden, we were treated to not one, but three different fireworks displays that were almost directly ahead of us, so even Traci (who was driving) could enjoy them. We pulled into a rest stop for a few minutes to catch the last of the first show.

We pulled into the parking lot of the Comfort Suites at 11:00pm. Showers, food, wifi and bed. What more could you want?


Created with Admarket's flickrSLiDR.

Just get your !^%$ and go

We're off to haul Traci's stuff across the country. More later, wifi permitting.

Barlow Trail Century

Some people deal with their emotional pain by cutting themselves, in the hope that a physical manifestation of their pain will make them feel better.

To those people I say, put away your razor blade, hop on your bike and follow me.

Today I volunteered as a chaperon for the Barlow Trail Century, called the "best one-day ride in Oregon" by...well, the people who put on the ride probably. It's a brutal ride that includes MUCH more climbing than the Boring Ride. If it's pain you're looking for, this is a good a way to find it as any, and better than most.

Three years ago this month, mom and I did the 40 mile option of the ride together, with her on my mountain bike. We completed the ride in four hours, which was pretty impressive considering the amount of climbing even in the shorter route. She was a real trouper. I thought it would be nice to ride it again and do the full century.

My team is sponsored by River City Bicycles who put on this event so we're expected to volunteer in some capacity anyway. Chaperoning just involves riding the course (you don't have to do the whole thing, but I wanted to) and being willing to stop and help anyone in need with repairs, directions, encouragement, rations etc.

I stopped at Finkos and printed out a picture of me and mom to tape to my seat bag. It just seemed appropriate.

I got started at 8:00am. The forecast called for rain and there was a light mist when I set out. Throughout the day the weather got more and more miserable and I wore every stitch of bike clothing I had brought and made a fine testing of my new Showers Pass rain jacket (it passed with flying colors).

I started later than most people so I was alone on the road for a long time and what people I did see were generally passing me in a double pace line. I did help one woman who had dropped her chain (she didn't really need the help, but it made me feel useful). The reality is, anyone who signs up for a hundred mile ride with 3500 ft elevation gain, is going to be a fairly experienced and self sufficient bunch.

Even the few injured people I encountered were already surrounded by scores of helpful, knowledgeable people who were taking care of everything. So that just left me to ride and think about being wet and cold and why was I out there and did I *really* want to ride the full 100 miles? I was starting to have doubts.

The website for the ride explained it this way:

Test your resolve like the pioneers before you, laboring up the flanks of the great mountain on this old historic Oregon Trail route. Be sure to look for the stunning views of Mt. Hood along the hearty 8.5-mile climb (average grade 8-10%). Crest the saddle at 3,500 feet and you'll find a stash of provisions nestled in the woods to fuel your ride home.

I was all for testing my resolve, but it looked like my grade was leaning somewhere in the direction of a B-/C+.

As soon as I left the first rest stop at 20 miles, the real climbing started. From then on I just settled into the new reality that my legs were going to hurt. They were soon followed by my knees. "Spinning" wasn't really an option when the grade tilted upwards so steeply it was all I could do to keep up enough momentum to stay upright.

Relief came in the form of a steep windy descent into the valley described as "Little Switzerland" (see above). When the road turned up again, it wasn't quite as steep so I was still able to make good time. Which was a good thing because me and my bladder were counting down the miles to the next rest stop at mile 41. Around mile 38.5, I gave up and went behind the nearest tree. Feeling much better, I rolled into rest stop two and was greeted by a lovely bonfire surrounded by chilled cyclists.

Up until that point, I had still been toying with the idea of heading all the way up to the top of Lolo Pass. But when one rider at the fireside who had just come down said, "I think it's hailing up there," any thoughts of adding insult to insanity faded into the mist. The thick blanket of clouds had wiped out any chance of the fabled amazing views. Without that carrot, I was having a hard time figuring out why I should spend another two hours, slogging up an 8-10% grade to a rest stop where the temperature was 10-15 degrees colder and there was no fire, followed by a chilly descent.

I think not.

I warmed myself up, traded knee warmers for full tights and set off back the way I had come, secure in the knowledge that I could drive back up the pass on a sunny day and enjoy the view.

The ride back included more company as I got passed by yet more burley racer guys and shared the road and some conversation with the occasional woman. Bree was asking about my new aero bars so I gave her a demo by leaving her in the dust on the next descent. I think she was impressed enough that she may be getting her own.

I felt better on the climbs coming out of the valley and Dodge park, even though my knees were protesting heavily by then. Near the end of the ride, I got to help one pour soul I found walking up the last major climb of the ride.

"Think about the burritos!" I yelled as I came even with him.

"There's burritos?"

"Yes, and they're from Laughing Planet and they're excellent."

That was enough to motivate him back onto the bike. He left me to catch his group but I saw him again a few mile later, coming the wrong way down the street after missing a turn. So I guided him in the right direction and then we stayed together through the last few turns back onto the Springwater Trail. The trail is nice and smooth in Gresham and the grade is tipped just downward enough for me to zip along comfortably at 18 mph. After a few minutes, my companion called up, "Hey, do you have a rope?"

I laughed. "Why, so I can pull you the rest of the way?"

"Yeah." I could tell from his voice that he was only half kidding. I knew the feeling. I'd wished for the same thing many times earlier in the day, watching guys with calves the size of my thighs whistling as they passed me.

I slowed down and then I asked if he'd run out of water.

"Yeah."

Well no wonder he couldn't keep up with me, even on a $12,000 demo bike that probably weighed as much as one of my pedals. I quickly gave him the rest of my water bottle which also had liquid nutrition added.

He cheered up after that. Then a few minutes later:

"Are we there yet?"

I looked up and thought I saw the sign for Cedarville park where the finish line was. "Yeah, I think we are actually." Together we blazed the last few meters to the finish line.

He headed off to turn in his bike and I took my bike to the car, changed as fast as I could and went to claim my well earned burrito, which was everything I had hoped and dreamed it would be for the last 40 miles. And the banana strawberry smoothie went down pretty tastily as well. I had to hand it to Rivercity for knowing the right way to feed depleted cyclists.

Final mileage was 82, which I completed in just over 8 hours and I'm feeling pretty darn happy with that.

Boring Ride (not!)

Today we went on this completely misnamed ride from the book Rubber to the Road: 30 Rides Around Portland. Yes, it goes through the *town* of Boring (and how tired must they be of all the obvious jokes?) but the ride was one of the best we've done all year.

We got a late start and left out the door at 10am this morning, wearing exactly the same outfits. Same shoes (Specialized), socks (Pearl Izumi), shorts (She-Beast century), jersey (Shift2bikes.org), bra (Nike) gloves (Specialized) and helmets (Giro Havoc). I can't tell you how sorry I am that we couldn't make it to the Pedalpalooza Twin ride earlier this week! Yes, I know we need help.

This was our long ride that Jess really wanted to do to make sure she is ready for STP. And I would like to note, this route choice was her idea. That'll be important later. It's a good thing that today is the solstice because it literally took us ALL day to finish the ride, but we had a great time.

We left from our house in Kenton (near Lombard and Greeley) and took the Esplanade and the Springwater Corridor to Boring where the real fun began. We were out on the road for nine hours by the time all was said and done. We had a hard time making headway in the beginning due to my TBS (Tiny Bladder Syndrome). Something about cranking the peddles makes my bladder shrink to the size of a walnut. We made it to Sellwood and stopped at the Paint-A-Pot place for a nature break. When Jess came out I said, "OK, let's get going, we only have 15 minutes" (before I have to pee again).

I *meant* it to be a joke.

Unfortunately, it turned out to be all too accurate a prediction and the trip up the bumpy Springwater path to the next pit stop at Cedarville Park was miserable and silent. After getting relief and a snack, I was finally able to settle down. Guess I'll never make it as a stage racer!

This route gets really good once you go through Boring and enter the countryside on your way to Eagle Fern Park--which is also near Eagle Fern campground where I was a junior counselor for Outdoor school my senior year of high school, bringing a sense of nostalgia to the already beautiful terrain. When we reached the park, our odometers said exactly 40 miles, a perfect time to stop for lunch. PB&J always tastes best after 30 or 40 miles.

After that it was miles and miles and miles of climbing, up to the George Rd Loop. We pondered which direction would be best to circle, and then promptly chose the wrong way. So, if you're thinking of doing the ride, be sure to take the left on Clausen Rd and do the loop 'backwards.' The chip seal is a little smoother on George and the descending is more straightforward. Still, we were thrilled when we finally hit the halfway point and could point ourselves downward. Jess was lacking her two lowest gears due to a cog that needs replacing and she was keenly feeling the loss. I ended up pushing her up several hills during the day to keep up morale.

"Who's idea was this?" she asked in the middle of a particularly brutal stretch.

"Yours!" I said promptly. I love it when I'm not in trouble.

"Well, you agreed to it!"

So much for not being in trouble.

After about 4 miles of climbing up Tickle Creed Road, just when Jess was asking "When do we get to go down?!?" we finally did.  I stopped to take a picture but told her to keep going.  I didn't see again for another couple of miles as she took off down what turned out to be a descent of a mile or two.

While we are clearly distance riders out for the fun and the scenery and not speed, while reading the book "Training Techniques for Cyclists," I came across this passage:

When that country dog comes boiling out of it's yard, bent on mayhem, a quick acceleration is usually the best defense.

Fortunately, all the dogs who came out to greet us on this ride were safely behind stout looking fences...except at mile 67, cresting the last of the interminable hills, we heard ferocious, but high pitched barking and looked back to see a poodle about the size of Jess's cat, barreling down at full speed with murder in his eye.

I've actually been told that the best defense against a chasing dog is to NOT run (inciting the prey drive) but to get off your bike and put it between you and the dog.  But in this case, such a tactic would've been too embarrassing to report later.  The dog's legs were shorter then my pedal cranks, and I had some legs left, so I just turned up the gas and sped off, helpfully distracting him from Jess and giving her time to get up the rest of the hill.  That little dog had surprising speed!  But I eventually crossed the invisible turf boundary and by that time Jess was on the down side of the hill as well.  It's like the universe gave us a little practice dog first, in case we run into something really big next time.

The rest of the trip was uneventful except for a short stretch of near death experiences on Hwy 211*.  The book said that this area "hasn't received much attention from cyclists" and I can see why--it's pretty challenging! But if your legs are up for it, it's definitely worth the trip.  Traffic is very slight once you get out of town.  The few cars we did see passed respectfully for the most part (there's always a few that don't know how to share), but clearly didn't know what to think about crazy cyclists out in the middle of  nowhere.  Here's the conversation I imagine from the look on one driver's face who passed going the opposite direction:

"Honey did you see that? What they hell are bikers doing way out here!?  I think those were girls too!"

The cows and the horses (there were plenty!) didn't seem too surprised to see us.

When we got back to Boring, we were pushing the 80 mile mark so we turned off the Springwater path at Eastman and went north a mile or so to the MAX station to get home. We stumbled triumphantly into our garage at 10:09pm, twelve hours, nine minutes after we left.

This ride was a great test of several things:

1) Are we ready for STP? Most definitely!
2) Jeff's mechanical prowess. I took our bikes to him after a disappointing shop tune up and he gave them back sparkling clean and shifting like buttah!
3) We both had fittings from Ward (a woman) at River City Bicycles and this was the first real world testing of the new set up. We both got shorter, higher stems which are serving very well, thank you. Other than adjusting our seats back to their original downward tip to keep our girl parts happy, things felt great.
4) New Koobi saddles, recommended by Zan, and purchased *as soon* as we got home from the Vernonia Ride a few weeks ago. I couldn't even sit on my cushy commuter saddle the day after that ride! Happy to report that the parts are MUCH happier now and I suspect, as the saddle molds to my shape, that things will only get better.
5) New aero-bars for me. Due to the low traffic and looooooong roads with no turn offs, I got to spend a lot of time in them, especially on the killer descent back to Eagle Fern park. SWEEEEEEEEEET!
6) Fueling strategies: We tried out several new brands and flavors of gels/bars/energy drink. The Hammer Perpetuem and the vanilla flavored Gu (the Hammer gels were not bad either) were the clear winners. Don't know about the nutritional value, but the emotional high of a tasty Costo poppyseed muffin bought from the Boring gas station is a great way to kill time on the MAX ride home.

Things we learned:

1) Bring more food next time
2) Refill water at the Boring gas station before riding off into the sunset
3) Speaking of sunsets, start earlier next time and possibly drive out to Gresham to start. Hills wear Jess out quickly (especially with two less climbing gears!).
4) Get a tandem. It's easier than pushing your girlfriend up the hills. :)

More pictures from the ride are here.

*I exaggerate.  There's no shoulder and one hill but it's a roller and the turn off comes pretty quickly.

Pedalpalooza Pedal Potluck Picnic

Oh yeah baby. You *know* you want to say that 10 times fast. Go ahead. Let your freak flag fly.

And when you're done, you can check out the pictures of the pedaling, pot lucky goodness on my flickr page.

It's pretty simple really. We meet, we ride, we eat. And in between, during or after, our ride leaders shares some usually interesting facts about the offbeat, out of the way area we've ended up in, which in this case would be Stanley "Park," a really weird grassy spot out in the middle of the airport/industrial area where there are no houses for miles around and really who'd want to hang out there anyway?

Usually that's all, but this time there was a bonus ride after dinner, to a little known part of the Columbia Slough trail which was very cool. And riding at night on the Marine Drive bike path while the sun set in front of us was the highlight of my week.

It was also the first time this year that I actually had fun at a bike fun event.

Here's to more of it.

The Gorge Ride

I've stumbled onto a fabulous training strategy for STP.  It involves going on organized rides where we have little to no idea of the route or terrain we'll be covering, but the conditions are much harsher than anything we'll see at the event.

As part of that strategy, I registered us for the first annual Gorge Ride, a supported tour of a 20 mile stretch of restored Columbia Gorge Highway put on by the Friends of the Columbia Gorge.  Their goal is to restore the entire highway so that you can bike from Troutdale to The Dalles without ever encountering Hwy 84.

It was the Gorge, so we could deduce that the route would probably involves some hills and oh yeah--there might be a little wind.  But what the heck, it was only 40 miles, right?

We arrived at the start point at 8:30am, having driven ourselves out from under the clouds that clung over Portland.  The sun was shining but it wasn't particularly warm at that time of the day and as soon as we got out the car, the wind hit us with steady force.  At least we'd be going into it starting out and enjoy a nice tailwind on the return leg.

As first time organized rides go, I'd say this one was a success.  The route was stunning, the cars few, and the rest stops, well placed and well stocked.  The nicest stop by far was at the historic Meyerdale Estates, a huge house that's in the process of being restored.  On a small patch of the expansive lawn, we enjoyed the usual rest stop snacks plus fresh cherries picked on the property that morning.  Mmmmm.

The stop at Rowena Crest had a great view but exposed as it was to the wind, we stayed just long enough to use the facilities and take a couple of pictures.

Another highlight of the ride was the trail section that is closed to cars and goes through the restored Mosier Tunnels.  The path is only a few years old and the road was buttery smooth.  Best of all, the end of the trail marked the halfway point.  From here on out, the wind would be on our side.

It was a much nicer return journey until we hit Rowena Crest again.  The gusts were 30-40 mph and we were literally almost blown off the road by cross winds a few times!  I've never cycled in such windy conditions and the concentration required was all consuming.  The windy descent I'd been looking forward to since we climbed it that morning was more of a harrowing test of nerve with all the battering crosswinds changing every few seconds.  I kept my hands on the brakes and didn't touch my new aero bars once.  When it was over, I was more relieved than exhilarated.

The flat end to the route was lovely though and an ice-cream reward awaited us at the finish.  As I walked into the Columbia Gorge Discovery center to use the bathroom, it suddenly hit me that I had thought about mom in hours.  As far as I know, that's the first time it's happened.  The thought was ruined by the fact that having the realization made me think about her again.  Not that I want to forget her or anything, but it was nice not having that huge shadow hanging over me for a few hours.  I suppose this is how it works...as time goes by, I'll be able to just live again and remembering her won't mean the risk of sliding down into dark tunnel of grief.  Or so they tell me.

Riders could buy reduced entry into the center, and they were pretty fanatical about making sure folks paid up.  We were questioned each time we entered to use the bathroom and we watched one worker chase another woman down when she strayed too far in in the wrong direction.  Apparently they missed the memo that it's a historical center, not a rock concert and dubbed themselves the security detail.  We found it pretty amusing.

We sat on the grass outside the and ate our lunches and talked to a nice older couple that we'd passed several times on the route and traded conversation, before heading home.

By the time we get to the mostly flat, comparatively windless STP, Jess will think it's a breeze.

More photos are here.

Brownies and Ice Cream

Some dreams do come true

When I was little, I dreamed of growing up so I could eat all the sugar cereals I wanted, eat as much of the mix as I pleased while baking and drink milk directly from the carton.

I got home from a really crappy day (more on that later) and after I showered and reconnected with my gf, I made emergency brownies. I like to get the family size and bake it in an 8 x 8 pan so that by the time I eat a bunch of the mix, it's probably about the same as if I'd bought the small batch anyway. :) While I spooned gooey chocolate goodness out of the mixing bowl, I alternated swigs from a carton of organic milk.

It's nice to know some things actually work out like you hope.

Anniversary

One year ago today, mom was diagnosed with stage IV colon cancer. This fact just hit me a few hours ago. No wonder I feel so craptastic today.

She lived 10 months, 12 days out of sheer stubborness mostly. She's probably still as pissed off about her dying as I am.

Bad News

My (paternal) grandmother died. More later.

UPDATE:

Moms passed away sometime near midnight last night. We got back from the beach early on Wednesday and went to the hospital to check on everyone. At the time they were starting dialysis to try to clear the toxins from her body, but she was too far gone to be saved.

Not thinking, I went into the room to see her and instantly regretted it. Sudden toxic shock to the body does not look pretty. She looked worse than mom ever had and I thought that was bad. Very dumb move on my part, resulting in instant trauma and flashbacks.

It's all too tragic for me to even wrap my head around at this point. Just the irony itself is mind boggling. A colonoscopy 10 years ago would have surely saved mom's life--and now a colonoscopy has taken my grandmother.

I think I'll just go bang my head against a wall until that makes sense...

Sylvia Beach Hotel: Day 2

I wish I could wake up every morning and have a buffet and hot breakfast waiting for me downstairs with an ocean view. Perhaps I should hire some elves and borrow Tessa's Endless Beach video.

Despite wanting to get away, it's been very hard for me to unplug completely. Hence I made the mistake of listening to uncle J's belated birthday message and replying by text, after which he immediately called me back. I guess he didn't take my voice mail seriously, in which I specifically say I'm on vacation and won't be returning calls until Wednesday. And why should he, when I'm so clearly chained to the outside world? I guess I need a few more trips here so I can get the hang of it. Of course my girlfriend is exempt from the rules, which is why I even had my phone out in the first place. Next time I go to the beach, she will be with me and then the phone is going into a deep suitcase pocket, never to be seen until check out.

It's funny that with less obligations than ever, I'm also harder to get a hold of than ever. But I'm just so drained from having to be in charge and take care of people and so I've just drawn into a shell to keep away from the people who want things from me.

I've been paper journaling during my stay here at the hotel and I really like it. My hand gets tired, but I need to start doing it again on a regular basis, especially considering my penchant for blank books. I bought another moleskin book, a calendar with notebook pages included for each week. I thought it would be a good paper memory, to make notes about the details of my day, which I tend to forget as soon as a night has passed. The dates will already be in there if I need to remember something about a particular day. We'll see if this new habit can be solidified for the long haul. And maybe it will also keep my frustration level down when I don't have time to write in excruciating detail as I so love to do.

UPDATED, late afternoon:

I was expecting a call from Jess on her lunch break, so I happened to have my phone on again and picked up a text message from my cousin: Aunt Mickey gravely ill, call me or dad. I had a few moments of confusion. Why was my cousin in Portland texting me about my Aunt Mickey in Texas? Reflexively, I hit speed dial and called her. It wasn't until I was on the phone that I figured out that she meant her aunt Mickey...who is my grandmother on my dad's side.

Lee Lee had taken Moms, as we call her, for a routine colonoscopy that morning. Sometime during the procedure, a nurse came out and said that there'd been a complication and they needed to get her to the hospital right away. At the hospital, they found a hole in her colon and it was leaking feces into her abdomen and causing infection. Though the people at the clinic didn't admit to it, it pretty much sounds like they poked a hole in her colon during the procedure and had to rush her to the hospital to fix their mistake.

They were about to take her into surgery but she was unconscious and the prognosis wasn't good. I talked to my dad and he sounded pretty good considering. At least I had time to get used to the idea. I told him we'd be back tomorrow and come to the hospital and he promised to keep me updated.

When we got back to the hotel, I took a quick walk over to Illingsworth Gifts, but they didn't have the stationary I was looking for. They did have truffles so I bought one for each of us in case of midnight chocolate cravings. Then I settled back into the green chair in the library and wrote some more. I meant to plant myself there for the evening, but the sun streaming through the window worked it's magic on me and I decided a short nap might be in order. The only alarm I had was my phone so I went without and hoped I wouldn't sleep the night away.

I woke when I heard Carmen come back to the room. It was just before 7:00. I went back out to my chair and resumed writing. Then Traci came back and she and Carmen started another puzzle, this time a 750 piece panorama of Times Square.

I couldn't resist. Before you could say, “pass me that edge piece,” I was fully sucked into the puzzle madness. In fact I ended up in charge of the top and side edges, while Carmen searched obsessively for the faces of Beyonce and Jessica Alba and Traci put together the words 'Times Square” and a description of the photo on the bottom.

We only stopped because we had to go get dinner before the restaurants closed. The desk attendant had recommended Local Ocean seafood as a good place that was near but just beyond the main tourist drag. Our waitress was slow but eager and friendly (in fact her slowness stemmed in part from her friendliness) and the crab cakes were excellent.

Back at home, Carmen bailed out of the puzzle about midway and then Traci abandoned me near the end. I should have stopped and gone back to writing but I was too close to finishing. The last sections were mostly a sea of almost solid black that proved tricky but I developed a system of separating all the pieces by shape and pulling from the appropriate shape pile in turn. I finished around midnight with three pieces missing, but still satisfied.

I went to put on my pajamas before I went back to writing and was informed by Traci that we had a visitor. Dickens the cat had taken residence on my bed. I was thrilled. I went back to my library chair but when I turned in around 2:00am, he was still there, curled at the end of my bunk. I carefully pried the covers back just enough to shove myself in. There was room for one leg to straighten out against the wall and the other I tucked up against my chest. After about 10 minutes of kneading my leg, he settled back down and went to sleep. Squishing myself around to accommodate an arrogant cat...it felt just like home.

Sylvia Beach Hotel: Day 1

Back at the Sylvia Beach Hotel for some uninterrupted writing time. We got out of town a little after noon today. We had to take my car, but Traci came along unexpectedly so I made her drive while I could finish my book (Blood Bound, by Patricia Higgins). It's been almost physically painful not just being able to finish it in one long session. I miss the days when I could just put everything off but eating and sleeping until I was finished with a good book. I got through Fried Green Tomatoes in one day that way, the same day I saw the movie and found out there even was a book. The book was better of course.

We grabbed some lunch at the Chowder Bowl one block over from the hotel. It's nice being out with meat eaters and not having to think too much about the restaurants we go to. I ordered Slumgolian Chowder, which doesn't sound like anything you should ever put in your mouth, but is really just chowder with a bunch of baby shrimp in it. The waitress couldn't tell me why it's named that though. It didn't matter because it came out piled with shrimp and a pat of butter on top! What could be better?

UPDATED 12:41am:

We had a fabulous dinner tonight with MUCH better company than the last time I was here with Jess. Carmen opted out of dinner for tonight so Traci and I went together. At our table was a couple who lived just up the street, Jim and Pam. They appeared to be in their 60's at least and seemed like a really happy, very romantic couple. His parents had gotten them a gift certificate for dinner. Gay (yes, that was really her name) and John were a mother/son pair from Portland. John is a theatre director who helped start the NW Children's Theatre and then went his separate way to start something new more recently. Because the theatre community is so tiny, he knew my friend Adrienne, who now runs the Interstate Firehouse Cultural Center. John also asked about the last production I saw Adrienne in at the Coho theater, written by Dan, another high school friend who is now living and writing plays in New York. I couldn't remember the name of the play to save my life (until 30 minutes later, when I suddenly blurted "Jingle Spree!" into a conversational pause, causing John and my sister to look at me at first, oddly and then with knowing expressions), but after a brief plot synopsis, John remembered the play.

Randi is a judge from Cleveland who was visiting with her mother Rita. They're staying in the Agatha Christie room and found SBH through the booklet on 1000 places to see before you die. Everyone seemed very nice and told interesting stories. Rita and Traci found quite a few favorite Columbus restaurants they had in common, proving once again that it's a small world.

Most of our table was game for the two truths and a lie game and we had a lot of fun once we got going. Pam was especially good at grilling people with pointed questions that made me sweat when it was my turn. I started to ramble out of nervousness and was sure I'd given myself away but I fooled a couple of people. My statements were that I rode my bike from Seattle to Portland twice, I performed on stage with Ani Difranco and that I had bungee jumped from a hot air balloon. Pam asked me how the balloon was anchored, which was one of the questions that got me in trouble. I have been bungee jumping, just not from a hot air balloon, though I've heard it's been done.

Other people were quite clever with their lies and it was fun questioning them. I was kind of jealous that everyone at the table seemed to still have parents, or at least the parent they liked best to travel with. I wonder what it would have been like to still have a mom in my 60's. I'm trying not to dwell on how many long years I'm going to be without a mom—assuming I live that long. Sometimes, I still can't believe she left us.

Spa Day

Last night Idge decided to sneak up from her usual sleeping place near my feet and curl up next to my side, squishing me into a tiny space between her and Jess. I spent most of the night dreaming about cats---Jelly Bean was dying of loneliness because Traci was traveling so much so we were trying to get him to be friends with Willow by luring them together with string. Jess offered to move Idge back to her place but I turned her down, cause I'm that much of a sucker.

As soon as I was awake for real, Jess reached down to the floor by her side of the bed and pulled out a card and two more presents. Now that's what I call a good way to start a birthday.

I let my inner child handing the wrapping paper with a lot less care than the night before and soon revealed a new teapot with a loose leaf filter from my favorite tea house on Alberta. There was also a second filter with smaller holes that would work with the vanilla rooibos tea I usually drink. And it'll fit into a cup as well. The teapot was the cutest shade of baby blue and round like a pig's belly. I loved it.

After a proper sleep-in, we got up and I took a quick trip across town to drop my road bike at Cory's shop so he could tinker on her while I'm at the coast. When I got home, we made breakfast together—potatoes, fried eggs and fresh mango. Yum.

By the time we got cleaned up, it was time to head out to Bonneville Hot Springs for our spa day. We took the bridge to Vancouver and out highway 14. It was raining and the Columbia Gorge looked splendid from the Washington side with the mist hanging low into the trees. I enjoyed the view and read my book until we arrived, only a little bit late.

The people at the spa desk were as nice and welcoming as you'd expect. We got signed in and an attendant led us back to the locker rooms, gave us lockers, robes and towels and said someone else would be back to get is in a few minutes.

We were scheduled for a mineral bath & wrap which were a gift from my friend Jacqueline and then I'd added on Rock n Rain treatments-- aromatherapy followed by hot stone massage and then a full body Swedish massage. I'd been looking forward to it all week.

Our attendant came to get us and gave us a choice of 6 foot or 4 ft long tubs. I wasn't sure which one to take. I was leaning towards a long one, but it was in a separate room from Jess, not that we'd really be chatting. The attendant said that she was 5'5” and enjoyed them both so I took the shorter one.

As soon as I got in, I knew I'd made a mistake. I spent a few minutes stressing out about it--it would take a while to fill a whole new tub—but I felt so cramped that in the end, I got out and switched to a longer tub. It was totally the right decision. For some reason I still had trouble quieting my brain during my soak, but my body relaxed anyway.

After 25 minutes, our attendant came to get us and lead us to the wrap room. After putting a hot towel down on the table, I lay down and was covered with heavy blankets which were tucked in on each side. Not so tight I felt claustrophobic, but just enough to feel sort of like a swaddled up baby. A cool towel over my face scented with eucalyptus completed the wrap. The scent was completely soothing as was the feeling of pressure from the blankets every time I took a breath. Now I was able to really relax and enjoy the moment.

After a while, I felt hands on my legs, which was my massage therapist's way of announcing her presence. She introduced herself as Diana and said she'd be doing my massage. She helped me into my robe and I followed her to a massage room with a little warmer for the stones and a lot of oils on a shelf.

She wished me a happy birthday, which meant she'd been paying attention to the form I'd filled out—and then asked if I'd ever had aromatherapy before?

“Nope...oh wait, yeah actually just this week. My half hour massage at Loyly had included some nice lavender scents in a bowl beneath my head. But I could see from her expression that what she had in mind was a little more intense. She went on to explain everything that was about to happen.

First they put drops of some very powerful scented oils along the spine. She explained that viruses lay along the spine and this was a cleansing procedure. She said that if I was getting over something, this would kick it to the curb—likewise, if I was about to get sick, this would bring it on quicker but I would also get over it quicker. I was glad to hear it, since my cold is still lingering after two weeks. She also warned me that my skin might get hot and start to tingle and if it got uncomfortable, to let her know because she had something called Ortho-Ease to take the edge off.

After that she'd use some unscented oil for my massage, using the rocks on my back and legs finishing up with regular massage on the rest of me.

It all sounded great to me. She left the room and I got on the table.

At about the third oil she dropped on my spine, I figured out what she meant when she said I might “get a little hot,” In fact, my neck and shoulders lit up like a hot chili pepper. It went from a tingle to a burn in about 20 seconds. She smoothed some of the ortho ease on it as soon as I said something. It didn't work right away but after a few minutes it was more tolerable. After a couple more aromas, I asked for another dose of the ortho. After that I felt OK. I figured that must be where my cold was residing and maybe the fact that it was so intense was a good sign. Still I was happy when she got some hot towels and rubbed everything off. She made sure to wave the towels to cool them and told me to tell her immediately if it was too hot, but it felt great.

Next we went onto the stones. Again she warned me about the temperature and at first I jumped a little, but she promised that they cool down fast and she kept them moving. Once I relaxed, it was absolutely heavenly—the best thing since sliced bread as far as I'm concerned. She went over my whole back and moved onto my legs as well. As she moved around, she started with a hand on the area so I'd know where she was on my body. She said lots of people fall asleep during this treatment because it's so relaxing and she didn't want me to be startled.

Once the rocks were done, she finished up with an old fashioned Swedish massage. Usually when I get a massage, the therapist can sometimes get caught up working out the massive knots that usually invade my shoulders, but by this time the bath, wrap and rocks had done their job. So the massage was geared to be more relaxing over all and because of that it was a rare treat. I slid into a pleasant fog somewhere between sleeping and waking.

When she was done, I lay on the table for as long as I thought I could get away with and enjoyed the feeling of being a complete noodle.

I tottered out of the room with my cup of water and another bottle for the road. I sat on the bench in the locker room and drank all the water while I waited for Jess. I knew she'd gone in after me and figured she might be a few minutes.

When I was done with the water, nature called so I headed into the bathroom and was surprised to find Jess already there and showered. So I hopped in the shower and met her back in the locker room.

“How was your massage? I wanted to know.

She said it was OK, and something about her tone got my spider sense tingling. As much money as I (well, my friends anyway) were paying for these, she should be as blissed out as I was right then.

Further interrogation revealed that her massage therapist had been terrible. Oh sure, she gave a decent massage but her bedside manner was reminiscent of mom's first oncologist. She'd barely said two words to Jess, not even to introduce herself. She asked if Jess had gotten this treatment before and even when she said no, the woman offered NO explanation of what would go on other than, 'first you'll get the rain, then the hot stones then a massage. No explanation about the possible hotness, no checking in about the heat of the stones, NOTHING. And in fact the aromatherapy did get hot, but Jess has a high tolerance for pain and since the woman hadn't warned her or told her it could be relieved, she didn't say anything.

I was totally upset to hear that she'd been shafted out of a good experience. First the ice cream and now this. What was going on?

When we got up to the desk, she explained what had happened.

“Do you want to speak to a manager?'

“Yes, and I wouldn't mind a discount since her experience was so lacking.” They didn't respond to that, simply called the manager. A woman who's name tag said Joyce came out and talked to us. She listened attentively while Jess told her story. When Jess mentioned that her skin had gotten hot with the aromas, Joyce asked if she said anything about it to the therapist and I wanted to smack her. Victim blaming much? One is not exactly at one's most assertive when lying naked on a table in front of a complete stranger. And we were there to relax. The LAST thing she should have to think about in a setting like that is having to advocate for herself! This Joyce person was pissing me off already.

When Jess finished her story (followed by a few comments from me about the huge contrast between our experiences), Joyce said, “Well obviously Stephanie needs to work on her communication skills. She's been with us for a while so maybe she's getting lackadaisical about explaining things. I really appreciate you telling me. We can't fix these things if we don't know.”

And that was it. She didn't offer us a discount, didn't offer a coupon for a bath and wrap, nothing. As she walked away, it was on the tip of my tongue to ask her about a discount but I didn't do it. Partially because I was so stunned she hadn't offered us anything to take the bad taste of horrible service out of our mouths and partly because I didn't want to get into a confrontation when I'd gone through so much trouble to relax. I paid for the both of us and we left.

Instead of blissing out in the car on the way home, we spent the whole time complaining about the crappy service we'd gotten. I've been in customer service since I was 17 years old and it is a basic principle to offer a customer something to try to turn around a bad experience. When I was at Kinkos we always offered a discount or to redo the job, sometimes to the point of ridiculousness, but it's just good corporate policy.

I spent the rest of the night getting more and more pissed off. I spent almost a month's rent on those treatments! I wondered if one of us a were a man or both of us were white, would Joyce's attitude have been different?

I had already decided to write a letter to the manager of the whole resort so I called and got his name which made me feel slightly better. But I have a lot to do to get ready for my trip so it's going to have to wait till I get back. They need to give us free massages or give my money back so I can spend it somewhere where they know how to treat their customers.

I tried not to let my anger totally ruin my after massage buzz, but it was hard. But I'm going to go get packed up for my beach trip. Traci is coming with us on the spur of the moment, on pain of not being annoying and not chattering at me while I'm trying to write, which is the primary purpose for this trip. We're going to have the dorms all to ourselves, which will be very cool (and cheap!). I'm going to attempt to be mostly off the grid except for calls to Jess and spend a lot of time in the library with my laptop, enjoying the ocean view and spilling out words.

Birthday Bowling

I soooooo did not want to get up and get on my bike today. But we're officially in training for STP and there are a limited number of days we have to train and this was one of them. I lay in bed past 9 and snuggled further under the covers, when Jess said we really should be thinking of getting up.

I gave in eventually, and we got up. I put her in charge of breakfast, while I made pasta for lunch that we could fall on after our ride. We ate waffles, mango and scrambled eggs.

I put the spaghetti carbonnara (or bacon spaghetti as we like to call it) into Tupperware in the fridge. I made two separate batches, real bacon for me, fake for Jess. It's one of the few things that easy to cater to both our tastes.

We finally got on the road around 11:30 after one false start. It wasn't warm by any stretch but we forgot to factor the wind into our clothing choices. As soon as we got away of the shelter of the house, we turned right back around and put on more clothes. I wore my new Showers Pass rain jacket to check out the wind-proofing and the breathability.

We had planned to do 60 miles but time wasn't on our side anymore and the route I'd been wanting to do was closer to 40 or 45 miles anyway. We went over to Willamette Blvd to Interstate and down to the Eastbank Esplanade. Then we kept going south, through Milwaukie, past Elk Rock Island, the site of our one and only midnight ride adventure and on to Oregon City.

We stopped just before the bridge into Oregon City at a very new looking gas station/mini mart and took turns taking a nature break. I gave her a small kiss before I went in and before I remembered where we were. “Oh my God, we could get shot!” I exclaimed, only half joking. But no one threatened and one guy just asked how far was our journey today.

But I wasn't to escape totally unscathed. As we approached the bridge to Oregon City, I heard stupid boys yelling at me out of their car. At least, I assumed they were yelling at me because all I caught of the words were “f&&k that n-----” at the end. I didn't turn my head, just nodded to myself---we were in the burbs alright.

After that I was eager to get back to so-called civilization where people only think their racial slurs at you for fear of reprisal. We rode through 'the city' and back over another bridge onto hwy 43 and headed through Lake Oswego. We passed a strip mall and I saw a big Cold Stone ice cream sign leap out at me...but we were training so I resigned myself to drooling as we went by. That is, until I heard Jess yelling something from behind me.

I slowed down so I could hear her. “Don't you see the Cold Stone?” she was yelling.

“Well yeah, but we're training and...”

“It's your birthday weekend baby.”

“Oh YEAH!” So I turned down the steep driveway and we parked our bikes next to the outside tables.

Since we didn't have locks, we ordered separately. I went first, since Jess would be paying for our treats. The guy who served up my dish was generous, heaping a nice pile well over the edge of the dish. By contrast, a different worker practically robbed Jess. Her dish was barely over half full, with air pockets on both sides. I barely gave her a chance to pout before I grabbed her dish and mine and went back inside. The stingy guy who'd served up her scoop was still at the counter.

I smacked both our dishes in front of him and said, “She's feeling a little cheated.”

He proceeded to explain that mine was over filled. I just looked at him.

“Um, I can put some more in if you want...” he said, in a tone that said clearly, this time. That was fine by me. It's not like we'd be out this way again anytime soon. He still seemed disgruntled so I said to him, “It's OK, it's my birthday.”

“Oh,” he said, as if it actually made him feel better. I took the now repaired dish of cake batter and coffee ice cream back to Jess and we enjoyed our mid training ride treat.

The ride back was more climbing but the peace and scent of the woods in Tryon Creek state park more than made up for it. We cruised through at a leisurely pace, both because Jess is not great at climbing and so we didn't run into any pedestrians on the twisty wooded trail.

The rest of the ride was uneventful and we made it home by 4:30. I wasn't as starving as I thought I would be so I opted to shower first and put my birthday cake in the oven before falling on my pasta. I insisted on making my cake myself. This being my first mom-less birthday, I wasn't really willing to chance that anything about my cake might be different.

At my request, Jess had organized a cosmic bowling party for me at Interstate Lanes. We arrived just before 7:00 and had four lanes to ourselves. I always forget about bowling but when I do remember to do it, I always have a great time. Fourteen people showed up and it was a blast. Jess claimed to suck at bowling but it was quickly revealed that we had a few ringers in the crowd. Jess, Leslie, Tessa and I had the highest scores after the first game so then it was decided by the group that the high scoring players should be on the same lane to lower the pressure for the rest of them. I manged to break the hundred point barrier in my second game, but Leslie, Tessa and Traci in the lane next door proceeded to wipe the floor with the rest of us. Luckily the great thing about bowling is that it's so fun no matter how bad you suck. And everyone loved my cake.

Eris had picked Traci up from the airport on her way to the bowling alley and then Traci came home with us. When we got home Jess asked me (rhetorically I assume), “Do you want a present now and a present tomorrow?”

Well duh. So I got to unwrap a box slightly smaller than a breadbox that contained an Eagle Creek toiletry bag for traveling, the kind you can hang up in the bathroom while you brush your teeth and what-not. I loved it 'cause I would never really think to get one even though I always admire the one Jess has. It's easy for us to shop for each other because we just pick out whatever we'd buy for ourselves. Actually, since mine is newer, I think she's a little envious now.

Tomorrow we have a fabulous spa day planned at Bonneville Hot Springs.

Happy Birthday to me

I haven't written in forever and it's driving me crazy but I console myself with the knowledge that I'm going back to the beach in two days. In the meantime, I'm finally caught up with math and I'm in the middle of a fabulous birthday weekend.

I got an award letter from Ford Family Foundation this week, notifying me that I got picked to receive a scholarship. This means I probably won't have to work for the next _ years while I go to school, except in the summer. They actually prefer it if you don't work, which is why they pay 90% of unmet need for any school you want to go to. I'm going to stay at PCC for another year and then we'll see. They'll even pay for grad school if you graduate with a good GPA. It's a pretty awesome deal. Maybe I'll just become one of those people that just goes to school for umpteen years.

Nah.

Birthday festivities started on Wednesday when Jess and I rode our bikes downtown to Jimmy Mak's to hear Steph and Tony play for happy hour. I knew that Tony was a great musician but I haven't heard him play much. He did things with a banjo that were too fast to be seen with the naked eye. Very awesome.

I love having a bikey girlfriend who likes to commute around with me. We're making our peace with the fact that we're total and complete dorks, with our matching commuter bikes, matching helmets, racks, lights, etc. It's not our fault we have the same taste in, well, just about everything. I've given up fighting it.

This week we also started training for the Seattle to Portland ride in July. We tried to do it last year but sickness of varying kinds prevent us. This year it looks like we'll have no excuses, so the next 6 weeks will mostly be spent working (for her), eating, sleeping and riding. Yesterday we did 30 miles on windy Marine Drive and today 41 miles down one of my favorite loops on River Rd to Oregon City and back up the other side of the river through Tryon Creek State Park. The weather was a little chilly, but aside from one racial slur yelled from a car in the heart of Oregon City, it was a gorgeous and peaceful ride.

In a little while it's off to my cosmic bowling birthday party with 15-20 of my closest friends.

Tomorrow is spa day. We're going to Bonneville Hot Springs to use the gift certificate we got from my friend Jacqueline for a mineral bath and wrap. We also took some bereavement donations and added the Rock n Rain hot stone massage. I'm sure by the time we leave, we'll need a designated driver. :)

It's...It's...LIVEWIRE!

Today after math class, Jess and I went out for one of our first real training rides for STP. We didn't have much time so it was a fairly quick 30 mile trip out to Blue Lake park and back. Winds were reported 10-20 mph and it was pretty brutal coming back on the path. Of course, I'm the one who always gets to take it in the teeth while Jess cruises behind in my draft. It's the price I pay for having the bigger thighs, but I don't really mind. I made her lead the whole way out so I could check out her uh...form. :)

When we got back, we had time to shower and eat before heading to the next birthday festivity, a date at the Livewire variety radio show. We saw Jay Graves, Bike Gallery owner and he recognized and said hello to Jess, which was a nice change—usually I'm the popular one so of course I had to tease her. But I lost my high ground when it turned out that I knew two of the people in the show tonight. Dave Allen, Dirty Martini manager and former bassist for Gang of Four was on interviewing the creator of the CD baby website. And Ashleigh Flynn performed. I didn't even know that I knew her but she came up to me at the Pickathon a couple of years ago and she used to work with one of my exes at Cascade Aids Project. Such a dinky world.

The show was not the best I've seen them do, but it did have some high points. Afterwards, I wanted to say hi to Ashleigh so I grabbed Jess's hand and walked backstage like I belonged there. Fortunately the first person I ran into was Jim from Mississippi Studios, who also produces Livewire. Jim knows me well from the musical company I keep.

“Hey Jim,” I said.

“K, how's it going?”

“Good, I'm looking for Ashleigh.”

“Come on, I'll take you up.” And he lead us up some hazardously steep narrow stairs to the hallowed green room. I love being on the fringe of the cool kid crowd.

We didn't stay long, just exchanged pleasantries with Ashleigh and I introduced Jess. She asked what I'd been up to and I kept it light. I don't think she knows about my mom and I didn't bring it up, despite the strong urge I always get to let even the most casual acquaintances know-- I feel like they should know they're dealing with the walking wounded, rather than a regular person but it's just not always appropriate.

When we left, Jess scolded me for grabbing a chip on the way out—but they were Doritos, I had to do it.

Loyly

I'm not sure how it happened, but I found myself today with not one obligation on my schedule and Jess at work. It felt like a miracle.

I slept in till 9:30 but woke to a cat fight and had to get up and put a stop to it by locking up my bad kitty. I was annoyed but I didn't really want to sleep the day away so I tried not to be too grumpy about it.

My back has been very sore lately so I decided to see if I could use the gift certificate that Lisa got me for a half hour massage and sauna at a place called Loyly over in southeast. They had an opening in the afternoon so I scheduled for 2:30, intending to get there early to get into the sauna first.

I forced myself to eat—when I have no structure to my day it's very easy to get caught up doing other things and forget—and then spent most of the morning and early afternoon making arrangements for our Seattle to Portland ride. Jess had only just confirmed that she could get the weekend off and I knew it was late to be trying to find housing for the midpoint of the ride.

Unfortunately the woman I stayed with at the midpoint the last two times isn't hosting anymore. I knew I definitely didn't want to camp though so I emailed all the other options for private housing and got a hit with Centralia College. I sent off reservations for the bus to Seattle, midpoint housing and officially registered us both for the ride. We'll stay with mom's best friend Liz when we go up on Friday night. She's an early morning person and won't mind too much getting up at the butt crack of dawn to take us to the start line.

I was feeling very pleased with myself but also running late by the time I left. I had at first thought to drive since it was about 10 miles across town, but then realized that I'd be terribly cranky driving around on a gorgeous day like today. Plus I needed to go to the Lloyd district at 5:30 and there's no way I wanted to be driving the car at that hour.

So instead of putting the pedal to the metal, I put a little extra foot to the pedal and arrived at Loyly about 10 minutes before my massage was scheduled. That gave me just enough time to get the lay of the land, put all my things in a locker, take a shower and appear in the common room in my fluffy white robe and slippers.

Since the massage was only 30 minutes, I had Kim, my therapist, focus on my feet and back only which was a good choice. Afterwards I hung out for about 45 minutes. I didn't even last a minute in the steam room. It feels too much like I'm about to drown in a hot tub. The sauna suited me much better and though it was still uncomfortable at first, I was able to relax into the wall of heat and sweat out my troubles. I went in twice and each time came out feeling pleasantly light headed and woosy. There was an open garage door and outside of it was only a bench that caught the sunlight and a wall—so you could sit 'outside' if you wanted and relax after the sauna. I got my book out of my locker and spent a few minutes reading.

It was starting to get late, so eventually I made myself get dressed and headed out. I stopped at People's Food coop as I realized that it's snap pea season again and last year they had some of the best. They did not disappoint this time either.

Then I went over to Seven Corners Cycles to say hi to Cory. He too, laughed about my touring vs cargo bike dilemma. But in the meantime I told him that I wanted to bring my road bike in for some love while I was out of town and he said no problem and he'd get her all fixed up for me. I love that guy.

In my head, I had this grand plan that involved massage, sauna and several hours of sitting around a nearby coffee shop but when I left Cory's I barely had time to grab a bite to eat at the Clinton Corner Cafe. I used to go there all the time when I worked around the corner and the woman who runs the place was very friendly.

“You never come around anymore!” she said, glad to see me and disappointed with my infrequent appearances at the same time. I explained that I lived 10 miles away and didn't work over here anymore. I certainly don't miss the certifiably insane people I worked for, but I do really like that neighborhood, especially riding through Ladd's Edition.

I ordered a Reuben sandwich and sat at an outside table. When my food came, the owner's dog Rufus left the guys he was staring at to come and stare at me instead. Me being a sucker an' all, I gave him a couple of chips and a bit of pastrami. Rufus was singular in his focus on food and made it clear that he was simply using me for grub and not interested in affection of any kind. I could live with that kind of clear boundary setting.

I scarfed my sandwich (Rufus left me as soon as it was clear I wasn't giving up any more goods and someone else got served) and then headed north back to the Waddell & Reed building. Anne was hosting a wine and cheese networking party and she and another woman who is a personal coach and deals with money issues a lot, both gave short talks that were interesting and informative. I invited Eris, who enjoyed it as well. I ran into one person I knew (but couldn't remember where from of course) and one woman handed me her card and turned out to run a publishing company called Spirit Press. I have the card in my wallet for when I'm ready to get my Chickbeat book done for real.

I got home just in time for a quick shower and watching the Grey's Anatomy finale with Jess.

Gift Fairy Day

Today I did something I've been wanting to do for weeks. I surprised Jess at work with coffee from Vivace. I know she usually goes to break around 10am and I had to hustle to get there in time. I called ahead and order four mochas, so she could give a couple to her work friends, thereby encouraging them to walk the extra block past Starfucks for some coffee that actually tastes good.

When I got to her floor, I got lucky. She was sitting at the nurse's station doing her charting. The look on her face was totally worth it when I sauntered up to her with my tray and said casually, “working hard or hardly working?” She lit up like a Christmas tree and even gave me a little kiss. “Did you come all the way here just to bring me coffee?” she asked.

“Yup.” I was grinning like a Cheshire cat. I love it when a plan comes together. She had time to even take a little break and come sit out in the courtyard with me while we drank our coffees. It was fun.

From there I headed to Lloyd district for a meeting with a financial planner to help me figure out what to do with the sick consolation prize that is life insurance and other inheritance type monies. But first I stopped by CK's office two blocks down to deliver a card and some home made cookies as a thank you for helping me with my algebra the week before.

I was a little worried about just showing up at her office unannounced, which is probably why I was a little quieter than usual when the receptionist asked who could he say was calling. I figured the cookies would make it OK though. There's not much that home made cookies can't make OK, and from her reaction, I was right. “Oh it's sooo the day for these!” she said, and I was glad I'd come up and delivered them. Also, I'm quietly spearheading “operation bootleg” in an effort to get copies of songs her band hasn't recorded yet.

The meeting with Anne at Waddell and Reed was pretty enjoyable considering how uncomfortable I am dealing with and talking about, money. Maybe it's like therapy, easier to to do with a stranger. In any case, I felt really comfortable with her and it was refreshing to learn that she does what she does because she genuinely loves helping people and not because she's obsessed with money. The consultation was free, but I will probably go back and hire her to help me open up an IRA to roll mom's 401k money into and set up an investment portfolio. This whole having to grow up thing really blows.

Girlfriend Day

I was supposed to drive out to Damascus today to return the Haelen to the naturpathic clinic, but I haven't spent a day with my girlfriend in far too long so I put it off till tomorrow and stayed home. We both managed to get some work done (math, always math!) and then later in the day we went out in search of a park to throw the Frisbee around in. We were headed for Arbor Lodge park but on the way we found another tiny little park just a couple of blocks long filled with really large trees and a couple of small playgrounds that was practically deserted.

She warned me that she doesn't throw very well, but I think it may have just been a set up so she could run me around the park a little. :) We tossed for a while, then sat back to back in the grass and read, and took a short turn on the teeter totter before we left. I was feeling all superior holding her up in the air when we realized that the teeter totter was skewed so my end was longer. We evened it out and then took turns holding each other hostage in the air. She's 5 lbs heavier than I, so she always has the advantage but I can hold my own once I get into position.

After we left the park, we rode over to Dalo's Kitchen for dinner. We haven't been there for a long time. They remodeled and the service is slower than ever, even though there weren't many people there. We ran into H there and she reminded us that they're probably on African time, which makes sense. I suppose I'll keep that in mind next time I go, and make sure I'm not starving and won't mind the wait. I don't think Jess will be going there again though as dinner agreed with her even less than the last time she ate there. Maybe it's the lentils.

We got home just in time for me to watch the second to last episode of Heroes.

Mother's Day

The worst thing about my first mother's day with no mom is all dread from other people on my behalf. If I had a dollar for everyone who said/texted me: "I know today is hard for you..."

We never really bought into the Hallmark holidays too much so it's really not that bad. If there's one thing I've learned it's there is no predicting what will send you into a downward spiral but I highly doubted that something so contrived as the big M.D. was going to do it, and I was right.

I got up and met my friend M at the house at 9:00 and we moved the last of the new mattresses over to my house to put into the guest room. She even brought the van from work (a futon store) so space wasn't an issue. And she took the old futon back to work to be recycled and waived the $15 recycling fee they normally charge. I love having friends in all the right places. :)

After that I scarfed a quick breakfast and then went to meet up with E so we could go bike shopping for her. I LOVE bike shopping, even if it's not for me. She hadn't eaten yet, so we walked over to Vivace, where I had one of their highly addictive Mexican mochas and we waited too long for food. We kept forgetting that trying to get food out on Mother's day was sheer folly. But we amused ourselves watching the endless array of cute children coming by.

After that we finally got going and headed over to River City Bikes, where I ran into Jonathan Maus of bikeportland.org , shopping for a mother's day bike for his wife. Stacy, my favorite sales person, wasn't available to help us and sent us another woman that neither of us was very impressed with. When I asked her to start by measuring E, she flatly refused and said that didn't really help, she was just going to have to test ride some bikes. Hence, we spent almost our whole hour there with E on a Gary Fisher that she liked, but couldn't quite get to feel right. When we finally asked for the next size up, it was perfect. I hate that! Seems like I keep having to tell customer service people how to do their jobs lately and it's really annoying.

Crappy sales person aside, there's not much that's more fun than test riding shiny new bikes. I went out with her on a high end Redline cross bike I had no business riding. Luckily it was too small for me so I wasn't at all tempted. I like the idea of getting a cross bike, but I really can't justify it. My bike dilemma right now is that I want a touring bike and a cargo bike but I don't want to buy two bikes. However those two styles of riding are pretty much diametrically opposed to each other. Cargo bikes are heavy and sturdy and meant for short distances, while touring bikes are much lighter faster, comfortable and meant for the long haul. I'm thinking that getting an Xtracycle and then maybe getting this snazzy new trailer type thingy for our road bikes might be a good compromise. We'll see.

E was all set to buy a bike today, thinking that it was like shoes or something, you just go in try one on and take it home. I advised her strongly to think of this more as the beginning of a research process that might take a few weeks (I took six months buying my first full time commuter bike after my car was stolen, but that's a little extreme). By the time we were done, I had gotten through to her and she decided to try a few different stores and bikes before deciding. I really need to take her over to see Cory at Seven Corners.

We both had places to be so I dropped her off and then went off to Rerun consignment store to drop off mom's shoes. This trip went MUCH better than Buffalo Exchange and they took all but two pairs of the shoes I brought. They have about 6 weeks to sell before they take them off the shelf and donate them. Mom had a lot of nice shoes so I'm pretty confident that they'll find a home. The woman who sorted them for me said, “I think we can fill the shoe needs of all of NE Portland just with what you brought in!”

After that I went home and finally went to work on my never ending math. All in all it wasn't any worse than any other day that mom's been dead and it was a lot better than some.

Procrastination in the form of errands

Traci called this morning in her usual no-notice fashion and said she needed a ride to the airport, which totally messed up my plan for a lazy morning and breakfast. I dropped her at the airport at 11:15 and by that time my brain was filled with things that should be done that had nothing to do with math. The chief of all these things, now that I was driving the car again, was to get it cleaned out. The trunk was still filled with rejected shoes from our trip to Buffalo Exchange and the passenger space was too filthy to bear thinking about.

So I altered my plan to do homework all day and instead sorted all the shoes to be sold at Rerun consignment shop into two grocery bags—my limit for my appointment on Sunday—and stored the rest in the garage. Then I put on latex gloves and cleaned the rest of the garbage out of the car. I spent more time than I meant to running errands, but I'd read the first few pages of Traci's book before she left town and gotten hooked so I went to Barnes & Noble and picked it up with a gift card that had been a birthday present for mom. Then I returned some vitamins left over from the reign of Grammy. I had to have the book before I went to the car wash, to make the waiting around bearable.

I finally got home just after 2:00 and spent a few hours reading and then forced myself to do some math before it was time to go to JD's (again!) with Carmen. The first night, the show was so good that I was determined that one of my friend's should see it. Danette wasn't available so I called Carmen and offered her a ticket and she was free. She was coming from the other side of town though so I took the bus downtown in a rain so hard I was wishing I'd brought my umbrella. We met in the lobby and enjoyed another good show. I could tell the kids were really tired though, as well they should be after four high energy shows in three days.

After the show, we went to Rimsky's for dessert and I had a pot de creme, which always makes everything seem better.

On the way there, I called Jess to say goodnight and she confessed that she had needed entertainment and so had watched our tape of Grey's Anatomy without me. I told her that was OK. She offered to watch it with me again. I know I should have fessed up, but it didn't seem like the time to admit that I had watched it the night before. I knew I'd get in trouble later. Jess finds out everything eventually, and usually sooner than later.

Couch madness & Jefferson Dancers

I got a small crew together and we met up at mom's house to move the rest of Traci's stuff into storage. It all went fine until we tried getting the couch out of the front door. After about 45 minutes of struggling with five different people working on the problem, Traci decided that maybe she didn't want to move the couch and matching recliner across the country after all. That's great, but it was still stuck in the doorway. After nearly taking the whole door frame apart, we finally managed to shove it through and then just left it on the porch.

We tried craigs-listing it but when that didn't work, I sent a quick email out to the network and had people emailing me the next hour. My friend Lauren was the first to ask, so for the price of a nice lunch, I told her the set was hers. I'm glad because I totally love Lauren and I'd rather give it her for free (especially now that we totally scraped it up shoving it through the door) than sell it to some stranger.

After we left all our blood sweat and tears on the front porch, we took the recliner back out of Meredith's car and into the house. On the way in, it came apart in our hands. Which is to say, the little switch that you turn to make the top come off, got pushed and so we carried it back in two pieces.

“I wonder if the couch does this too?” asked Meredith.

“If it does, let's just keep it to ourselves,” I said. She checked and sure enough, said she found similar latches on the couch. But in the end, it all worked out because there was no way the couch or the chair would have ever fit into the storage space. Not to mention, Traci would have to make friends pretty fast at law school if she wants someone to help her get that behemoth into her new apartment in August. No, I think things are better off this way.

Once that was done, I took Jess out on a date to see the Jefferson Dancers in their spring concert. I thought it might be emotionally hard because it was such a tradition for mom and I to go see shows...and then Traci once she graduated...but it turned out it was more upsetting because I hardly saw anyone that I or mom knew. Over the years we slowly have less and less connection to the new crops of younguns coming through until now we really don't know anyone except the director and the choreographers. What used to practically be a family reunion is now just a really good dance performance by some talented kids.

Interview

I'm so behind on so many things. Life is moving way to fast already. I thought I was supposed to be taking this time to grieve? (insert violins here).

Today I had my big interview for the Ford Restart scholarship. I I had to drive to Eugene which was the second hardest part and I had to dress up, which was the first hardest part. Every time I have to go into drag, it takes a whole village to accomplish the task. But I was entirely happy with the results, so I'm not complaining (this time). My fashion consultant Erica approved my basic look, then took me over to Goodwill where she put her hand on the perfect shirt in .03 seconds (I hate/envy people who can do that!). The next day I was on my own at the mall (where's mom when I need her?) but I found a really cute blazer for $20 at Sears. Bonus: it was cuter than the $111.00 blazer at Macys! Go me. When we were going through stuff at the house last week, I kept a bunch of mom's shoes that I thought I could stand to wear for just such an occasion and she had the perfect little black low-heeled shoes. Traci is still shedding tears just about the fact that her feet are not the same size as mom's. It really is tragic, since she would so appreciate it more than I do, and mom had aproximately 10 billion pairs of shoes, some of them never worn.

I was just starting to get a handle on the math thing and then I got sick this weekend. And I was in a generally terrible mood with lots of sobbing and what not. So I skipped math yesteday so I could spend the day trying to pull myself together and finish my fashion crisis.

I somewhat succeeded, at least in terms of the clothes and my mental preparations. I cut my hair, took my shower, got all my stuff together and planned to turn in right after Heroes. Everything went fine until the going to bed part. Then my cold decided to strike. This cold is my absolute least favorite kind, the endless phlegm model. I had this one right before my second date with Jess and also sometime in the fall/winter of last year. I hate it because A) it's totally gross and B) it goes on FOR.EV.ER. First the coughing drove Jess crazy so I vacated to the guest room. But every time I lay flat, the phlegm just collected in the back of my throat, causing me to have to cough and hack it all up. After two 20 minute sessions in the bathroom, I gave up and went downstairs and watched some more of my Battlestar Galactica DVD. But I couldn't stay up all night, so in the end, I 'slept' on the couch with my head propped up, which seemed to help some. I was up until 3:00AM and got about 3 hours of sleep.

Despite all that, I managed not to wreck the car on the long boring drive to Eugene and I feel like my interview went really well. Especially after talking to the two people who went in after me, who felt they never connected with the interviewers. Truthfully, I was expecting it to be a little harder, but they didn't delve very deep and so I stuck to the standard dog and pony. They're interviewing 88 people and giving out 50 scholarships so I think my chances are excellent. The scholarship pays for 90% of unmet need for any accredited school in Oregon, which really opens up the possibilities for transferring after next year and going for a bachelors degree. I need to do more research on that though.

And now I'm back to slogging through math trying to catch up, and eventually I really should take a look at that online photoshop class I haven't looked at all term. Of course, to do that, I have to get my computer back from the Mac doctor. I got a call today that they sent it to Apple, they replaced some parts, but it still didn't fix the problem. Great. I think I've been pretty calm about not having a computer all week. Probably because Jess is working so much so I can sneak in time when she's not here.

I should hear back about the interview in 2-3 weeks.

Irony and Anger

When Jess and I went to the beach last month, we visited the little bookstore on Nye beach. While I was cruising the self help section, I found a book called, "Death Without Denial, Grief Without Apology."

"Well, isn't that 6 months too late," I said. It sat there on the shelf, mocking me, so I bought it.

It's a really good book, written by the former Governer of Oregon Barbara Roberts, about the things she learned during the illness and death from cancer of her husband Frank. It's basically a primer of everything we could have done, but didn't, thanks to something we like to call "The Bubble."

Here's a few relevant quotes:

We are so afraid of death in this culture, so geared toward "medical miracles," we seem to have lost all sense of perspective. There is nothing wrong wiht a patient wanting a medical miracle. owever we have come to a place where families are demanding miracles when death is imminent and doctors often play the Wizard of Oz trying to orchestrate false hope and deny reality.

Traditionally, doctors are trained to sustain life, not plan for death. However, if the doctor would say "dying" to a patient, the pretense of recovery would be gone. If a spouse of life partner says, "dying" to a loved one they are then free to plan, share, and say goodbye over days or weeks or months. The dying person could then speak the truth to old friends, thank parents, prepare children. Conversations could be real. Expectations would be expressed. Fears could be shared. Memories could be made that would sustain and comfort those left to grieve once death arrives.

What a dying person needs is comfort, closeness, dignity, and in some cases, pain control.

Accepting that he was dying gave Frank more space for creating good times.

Kindess is helping dying patients accept the diagnosis and then give them support and services to live the rest of their lives with as much dignity, as many choices, and as little physical pain as possible.

Denial is not your friend. Truth offers you more freedom and broader options. Denial is also costly. It uses up financial resources your family may need when you're gone. Denial uses up chances to share your feelngs with your closest loved ones. Denial wastes the life ingredient you can least afford to squander--time.

The bubble pretty much robbed us of any of the positive aspects that might have come from our situation. I have a great deal of anger towards specific people who perpetuated the bubble. Everyone who insisted that we just had to "think positively," everyone who convinced mom that pain medicine was the enemy, everyone who said all she needed was more milk thistle, more blueberries, more vitamin c, more oxygen... The list goes on and on, and the crazy making power of the bubble is inexplicable in mere words.

The result of all this is that our (mine and Traci's) time was stolen and we can NEVER. GET. IT. BACK. We can't ask about the gumbo recipe, Traci's future wedding, what to do if ______ happens, reminisce about long drives up and down the I-5 corridor...NOTHING. All because we were forced to pretend that we had the next 20 years to do all these things because no one, including mom, could just deal with reality.

And did I mention the suffering? She was miserable for the last month or more of her life because "pain medicine was too hard on her liver" (it's failing anyway, why not be comfortable?) or "pain medicine causes constipation" (we have ways to deal with that, but you won't follow them).

"Mom, what's your pain at now?"

"Two," she'd say, while the grimace on her face said, "eight" every time she moved. It took a full day to convince her that adjusting pillows every 10 minutes wasn't going to help her, before she finally agreed to one drop of morphine.

Most days I'm able to function with this anger. Some days I go to my old house and chop wood. And other times, when I can't get the horrors of the (totally unneccesary!) trip to the emergency room out of my head, I just wail and scream and wish I could yell at everyone responsible. She was finally sleeping, peacefully, and she just stopped breathing. If only they had let her go, it could have ended like that. I would've been sad that I wasn't there, but it would've been better than the two days of hell that followed. All so that other people could get here, other people could see her, other people could say goodbye. Nobody seemed able to forget about themselves long enough to care about her suffering. We're kinder to animals.

The beginning of the end

We're continuing to work on clearing things out of the house. And I use the words "continuing" and "work" very loosely. As always, just walking in the door is exhausting and I don't usually get very much done. I'm better at jobs that take me away from the house, like Goodwill trips and selling/delivering things.

So far the books netted us $42. The four garbage bags of clothes and 40 or so boxes of nice dress shoes yielded just over $30. And that was Buffalo Exchange and Redlight *combined.* I hate those places. I don't know where they get all the crap they sell because I have yet to meet anyone who's had a successful time trying to sell them stuff. Whatever. We Goodwilled all the clothes and the shoes will go to a consignment shop. They're nice shoes. Traci continues to weep that her feet are not size 9. Ironically mine are, but the majority are not things I would willingly put on my feet. I did take a few of the less tortuous shoes for dress up emergencies, such as my upcoming interview.

Today we got a storage space which means that Traci will be putting everything she wants to take to D.C. into it. It's the beginning of the end, because without most of the furniture, beds, art, pictures etc, it really won't be mom's house anymore.

Every time she comes over, Jess asks if I want to take home the canvas print of the three of us that I got mom for Xmas a few years ago. And every time I say, "No, not yet." I think it's become the last signal of "home' in that house for me. I'll probably wait till the last minute.

Today we took the big change jar to the bank which was much more lucrative than the clothes selling. And I took a bike jacket mom bought and never used back to the Bike Gallery and had them order me a Showers Pass rain jacket that I've needed for months now.

I can't get past the irony that I now have money to get all this stuff I've been 'needing' but every time I hand over my credit card, I just think how much I'd rather be broke and have my mom back.

To top it all off, Traci found a mug in the cupboards today that says, "Mom- without you, I go all to pieces!" Yeah, I don't think we'll be keeping that one.