Sometimes She's a Lady

This concrete sculpture under an overpass was lit with rainbows at night

I think of karma as the golden rule: do unto others as you would have them do unto you.  It's really important.  It makes sense that even though your loved ones share your angers, vulnerabilities, joys, concerns and frustrations, they should also get to benefit from a little grace.

This was highlighted for me last weekend on a trip to Seattle with G.

We stayed at a nice hotel in Belltown

While there, we decided to visit Uwajimaya, which is sort of an Asian indoor mall/supermarket. Great food and fun shopping. One of the things I love about Seattle is the variety of people and experiences there.  I saw small blonde children expertly eating with chopsticks, heard both French and Spanish spoken and enjoyed a crowd of people with a neat vibe to them. There was kind of an excitement in the air.  We found a quiet corner and had yummy Thai food for lunch.  Crowds are neat but they make me tired so I get to take frequent breaks.  

After that, we moved the car to longer-term parking and went to the Wing Luke museum. I think it's second only to the Seattle Art Museum. Amazing tour with a knowledgeable guide, an area for discussion of social justice and equality and good history as viewed through the eyes of those who lived and continue to live it.  

And G lost a bunch of cash.  

Yeah. It was an accident. The case was "just in case" money and not something we carry around with us regularly.  But he had it in his pocket with his keys and when we moved the car... gone. I'm hoping that someone with good karma, or someone who really needed it, found it.  Because we looked and it was gone, gone, gone.  

I got an awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Like angry awful. And a little desperate.  If I'm really honest, I also felt relieved that it wasn't me who lost that money because my sweet husband was quite upset about the whole thing.  Not really about the money, I realized, but about how upset I'd be.  Yes, it's distressing to lose something. But what's worse is when you have to tell someone about how you screwed up.  I hate that feeling and I had this moment of clarity about how I could help him feel better.  

G: How angry are you right now? 

Me: I'm a little upset. 

G: What can I do to make it up? 

That's such a hard question.  There's just no answer to it.  It was just bad luck and nothing would bring back that cash.  

Me: How would you react if I just told you the same thing? 

G: I'd say it's just money and we shouldn't let it ruin our trip. 

Me: Let's do that. But I want cool wife points. 

G: Ok. 

And like that, it was all ok. We enjoyed the museum, some dinner and a quiet evening.  

Pretty little fountain- You can see loaner bicycles in the background

Hardcore relaxation

Yup, Good Karma

G in his natural environment

I enjoyed eating at Black Bottle in Belltown

The next day, we planned to meet my friend Matt at the Zeitgeist Coffeehouse in Pioneer Square.  I love that place with it's sort of hipster vibe and not just rice milk, but almond milk too.  At the front, there was a man in his 60s ordering a sandwhich. He was well dressed and extremely demanding.  As the cashier took his order, he tried cajoling her to do special things for him, like adding tomatoes to his food and an extra shot for free, promising to come there often. His use of familiar terms and inability to stop directing her got on my nerves. Plus, every thirty seconds he asked for something else on top of his other demands. 

Finally, the other cashier asked him to step out of the way so that we could order.  I asked for my almond milk latte and the man thought it was ok to step into my space to talk to me about how he and his wife drink almond milk now too. It's so much healthier. 

I don't drink almond milk because it's yummy. Yes, it is, but I'm allergic to milk AND soy and I don't have much choice.  I wanted to say "There is something about your face I don't like.  Maybe it's because you think you're so important."  

But I didn't.  I just turned my back on him and he talked to G instead.  So we got our food and sat to wait. 

Matt didn't show up.  

And it was my fault.  

I'd miscommunicated with him and he was expecting us out in Ballard. It took an hour and a half to get there, through Seattle traffic, a protest and a bridge closing, at which point I jumped out of the car while G parked and talked to Matt for 8 minutes until he had to take off. I'm blaming Facebook and its message system.   

What a cluster****.  

Me: How mad are you right now? 

G: Pretty mad. 

Me: How can I make it up? I mean, there are lots of things to do here... 

G: Give me a minute. 

###

A minute goes by of quiet contemplation and me sitting quietly on a bench.  

G: Ok. I'm cool.  Let's have a good day. 

Me: Really? This isn't a passive aggressive thing? You're not going to be angry later?

G: Nope.  This is what good karma will buy you. 

He meant it. He got over it and I got over it and we had a great afternoon. We even had a fantastic restaurant experience with Puerto Rican food. I was really sad to miss Matt, especially since he was the one who invited us to the locks.  Hopefully I'll plan better next time. 

There was an outdoor sculpture

Bunches of salmon- this is the underground fish ladder viewing spot

The locks were the most interesting to me. We watched for hours.

And this- THIS is a jasmine tree. Oh my gosh....

In working on the locks, people need to not fear falling. That's a museum in the background

Did I mention that the fish would jump clear out of the water?

So yeah, karma. Sometimes she's a lady.

iResolve

It's that time of year when I renew and make new my resolutions for the coming year.  Usually, I have resolutions (or goals if you want to call them that)  related to personal growth, some for health and some for education.  That's not really by design, but it is what I notice I tend to do.  A lot of times, these espouse and advance the values I hold dear.

And no, I don't have any advice involving how to make or keep a New Year's Resolution.  There is no real trick to it- you just think what would I like to accomplish by this time next year? Is that reasonable?  Is it worth working towards? Then you decide if you want to do it or not.  If you want inspiration towards making a reasonable, attainable goal, look here.  Or here.

In long discussion with Grey- without whom I could not do this one- I want to eat vegan twice weekly. Being a vegetarian isn't such a bum deal.  You can still eat ice cream and butter and cheese.  These are a whole food group for me.  But if you resolve to eat vegetarian twice weekly, you'll be doing your body and the planet a real favor.  If I had my way about it, Grey and I would both do a juice fast on Mondays like I used to.  It resets the digestive clock and for me was a way to even out my system.  But the vegan idea is a great one too.  Good for health and great for the environment.  It's easy to eat terribly as a vegetarian or vegan.  After all, all the oil you want is available, as are most candy bars and soda pops.  So the addendum here is healthy vegan.

*****In the interest of honesty, it should be said that I'm an incidental vegetarian.  I don't like meat much, except some seafood.  If you get me around my sister Patti and my brother in law, I'm likely to make myself sick on all the crab meat they give me.  Did I mention that they got a new boat over the holiday?  Super YUM!  But seriously, I don't want to be a hypocrite. I do like some meat and do occasionally eat it.  With butter and lemon.****

I'm going to take a personal enrichment class- at least one.  Either it will be a craft class, painting, cooking (ohhh, there's an idea!) or language.  I could really use a french class.  No reason. It's not like my last name means "God" in french or anything.  Last year Grey and I took a yoga class.  It was a wonderful way to connect with each other, to practice and to share an experience.  And it was fun.  I wonder how dangerous it would be if we both took a cooking class.

I'd also like to be more active in the spiritual part of my life.  We are attending the Unitarian Church here and like it a lot.  In fact, today we sat by Bo and Bee, whose last name also started with a "B".  They celebrated 65 years together this week. Their glasses and hair cuts match stylishly, and their trench coats were coordinated.  They wouldn't stop talking to us during the service but I don't think anyone minded because they are hilarious.  I'm glad to be part of a community which doesn't espouse dogma and which encourages people of faith to share and strengthen that faith.  Incidentally, the UU people also sponsor the vegetarian society in Ellensburg and share space with the Quakers.  In any case, I like the people and think we could do some good in the community.  If you're not familiar with the Unitarians, let's just say that it's a conglomeration of several faiths and those who really don't ascribe to one.  There is no real "preaching", and it's a welcoming community.  The central themes revolve around social justice, equity and freedom.  And drinking coffee.  Coffee is also a vegan beverage.  Two of the leaders in the church are vegan; one is retired and the other is the head of the Computer Science department at Central.  They have a geodesic dome house on a couple of acres.  It's solar panel equipped and mostly self-sustaining.  Ok, I'm committed to walking to work every day (even in the snow!), but I'm not sure I'll ever get to that level of awesome.  I will, however, save a ton of money on gas.

I'm not so sure about my next one, but here goes: I'd like to walk a marathon this year.  My knees and hips won't let me run one, but I could definitely walk 26.2 miles.  My problem is that I need someone to commit to doing this with me, either in person or virtually.  Interested? Email me!

I think that about covers it for this year. I'll stay committed to good health and kindness, working my ass off for causes I believe in and general trying to be a good person, family member and stuff like that.

Do you have something to say about New Year's Resolutions?  Share in the comments- what do you do for resolutions- or what do you dislike about them?

Sneaky/Happy

I am certain that I mentioned before that I am not a good negotiator.  My husband learned this when we agreed that a certain Friday would be the last day that we would be able to accept an offer from the university.  Then I never communicated that date to them and I didn't get the contract.  My philosophy is that people will do what's right and that they are doing the best they can.

So Grey gave me (and them) an extension until Wednesday.  I communicated this with everything but a bullhorn.  I went behind someone's back.  I cajoled and wheedled.  Wednesday came; Wednesday went.  No contract.  Thursday morning I got the first of the two contracts.  Friday at 4:30, after I posted my blog, I found the second contract in my inbox.

I was so sad.  We'd discussed it.  We had decided.  End of story.  I thought that perhaps it couldn't hurt to forward the contract to him at work and see what he thought.  In the meantime, I was looking forward to some other neat opportunities in Oklahoma at two of the state colleges.  C'mon, I'm a Ph.D.  I can find something relatively easily.  Gulp.  With insurance.  And benefits. That pays ok. As a teacher.  Shoooooooo!

Besides, we already decided a course of action, right?  NO way to change our minds, right?  Stay in comfy, cushy Oklahoma with its mild winters and blistering hot can't-breathe-for-2-months heat that depresses me and makes me want to live on a polar ice cap.  That's the plan.  No way I'm asking Grey to reconsider and please may we move to Washington after I'd already secured an extension.

Thoughts swirled through my tornado brain.  If I have never told you about my tornado brain, it's an amazing and efficient machine.  Any event that happens, my brain likes to imagine the worst case scenario, then whip the event around in my head several times and force a scary and difficult outcome wherein I end up living under an overpass with only Eleanor, a shopping cart and a machete.  Depending on how much I wanted what I didn't get, and sometimes depending on how much I wanted what I did get, it doesn't take long for me to get to the shopping cart scenario.  This time?  Five point two seconds.  With broken down house slippers and a mumu. That's a record of some sort.

By the time Grey got home from work around 6:30, I was in a lather.  I would not wouldnotwouldnot ask him to change our plans.  We were heading out for Norman immediately, so we decided to wait and talk on the way.  Time dragged as he packed his things.  I breathed.  I felt a trickle of sweat slide down the hollow part of my back.  My ear itched; I scratched.  I petted the cat.  He forgot something.  I threw everything (including the cat in her carrier) in the back seat and jumped in.

"So."
"Yep."
"You got the contracts?"
"Yep."
"What do you want to do?"
"..."
"Huh?"
"I said that's not fair.  We decided.  I am not asking to change the course of action."
"Oh."  He thought for a moment.
"Well, what do you want to happen?"  I smelled a trap.
"That's not fair.  I want to know what you think too." He smiled. Grey has a regular smile, a 5,000 watt smile and a sly smile.  This was his sly smile.
"Yeah, I'll tell you what I want.  You first."
"I think we already decided.  I think we should stay in Oklahoma."
"But what do you Want?"
"I want to go to Washington."
"Ok. Let's go."
"Whoa buddy. Input first. You can't just make pronouncements without telling me what's on your mind.  I need your thinking."  Again, Grey smiled his sly smile.  The middle of his lips stay put but the corners go up exponentially, creating a deep V that makes his eyes crinkle a little.  It's...fetching. My heart always beats a little faster when he smiles like that.
"I was thinking that giving them a Wednesday deadline was likely to get a contract by Friday."  By Friday?  My brain tornadoes.  Wait. What?  So he..
"Did you play me?"
"Uh, yeah."

He tricked me.  He gave me a Wednesday deadline so that I would become a hard-nosed negotiator because he knew I would be frantic.  Oh! I never!  How.... Effective.  Oh and he lied to me!  I spent almost .03 seconds being mad at being so easy to predict.  Then I realized that we are moving to Washington.

We are moving back to Washington! Yay!

Yay for beaches and mountains and Canada and Seattle and sisters and nieces and nephews and hiking and a blue state!

Looking out from Port Angeles

Quilcene Bay, 2011
On a clear day, you can see forever

Mt. St. Helens

Port Angeles, Washington

Sand Dunes, Port Townsend, Washington

The Ends Of Things

This is the season of the ends of things.  This is the week of the ends of things and the night of the ends of things.  I have to turn in my dissertation revisions tomorrow but instead I'm writing a blog post.  I should be revising. I don't have internet at home right now and have to get to bed by 11 at the latest and that's after a shower.  I work in the morning. 
This is the end of my homeless wanderings.  I've spent the last 6 months wandering all around Oklahoma as my house was rented out while I finished my teaching contract in Ada.  The contract was not renewed and I ended up getting a teaching job in Oklahoma City. I got my house back on September 1.  It was a terrible mess and will cost me thousands of dollars to clean up.  My contractor is installing new kitchen countertops and replacing drywall in the pantry because of the heavy urine smell.  I bug bombed since the roaches were large and singularly unafraid.  One of them looked like "Ponyboy" from The Outsiders. I think he was carrying a straight razor so I backed out of the room and called in a nuclear attack. My cat is happy to be home at least.  The livingroom, hallway and one of the bedroom carpets has been steamcleaned four times and spot treated several times.  While stained badly, they won't be replaced since I just don't have the $1,700 to do it. Then there are the dead trees and landscaping in the back yard and the garbagea dn assorted junk tossed into the yard here and there.  It's going to take several pick up loads to get rid of it.  Now you know where the roaches came from.  All of this on only 6 months.  The meager deposit didn't even begin to cover the steam cleaning. I feel relatively safe tonight and the house is rather stink-free save for the pantry. The contractor will take care of it.  I put the ball in motion.  The end.  My very nice ex-boyfriend is babysitting my Big Dogg and he will come home soon too. My happy little family will be home and in the same place.

This is supposed to be the end of my dissertation. I'm a little blocked.  I don't want this to be over.  I'm teaching full time during the day and in the evenings I teach an online class.  On Tuesday nights I've got an in-person class.  I'm not sure that I'm spending enough time on revisions. I'm not sure what I'm afraid of. I'm not sure if it will pass. I'm not sure if it *should* pass.  I'm not sure what to do next. I've been a student for a long, long time. I don't want that to change. I don't want it to stop. Can't take it back now. I will finish this too and be done with it.

I am glad to be on the back side of summer and the end of the hottest season on record anywhere.  I thought I would die.  I didn't.  I complained a lot on Facebook and obsessed on the topic with my friends and family.  Wildfires raged and tempers flared. For four months I sweated and played ninja in my avoidance of the giant ball of gas in the sky.  I couldn't run more than 2 miles without getting heat stroke.  It went on and on forever until suddenly, like a puff of smoke, it was gone.  Today I turned on the heater in my car on the way to work.  It was all of 55 degrees.  I rejoiced. I reveled in it, rolling down the windows blasting the heater.  I love the descent into fall, bringing in the eaves and putting away the summer dresses.  I love putting the earth to bed, to sleep for a season of dormancy, of well deserved rest already after the long and winding dirt-road season under a burning sun.  And I feel an easing in my mind too, in my philosophy that things can wait and that there is time yet for me to think and to reflect and ponder some of life's greater mysteries. A season to compost my thoughts and plan and to dream.  To gather my wisdom about me like so much yarn to spin into the shawl of age.

I have had the end of a relationship too.  My brother is not speaking to me, nor I to him. I got pulled in to some stupid drama where I did not want to be. I am not a tactful woman and did not pull my punches when I perhaps should have.  We argued and fought and said things we cannot take back and he did something he cannot take back.  For now, for this season, I am done.  I'm not angry anymore but won't open my heart for someone who has caused that much grief for me, knowing the stress it would cause. I hate the ends of relationships and really, really dread conflict.  I do love being healthy and now perhaps we can both be healthy on our own. 

Finally, I am going to end my relationship with Blogspot.  People clicked on the ads.  I was supposedly making money from my blog.  Then I made too much money- over $300 that I never cashed in over the course of a year- and the blogspot people decided to suspend my adsense account.  So now you can read my work but I cannot make money from it.  This is work, keeping a blog and trying to put something thought-filled out there every week.  As soon as I get a suitable new home for my writing, I will let you know and we will go from there together. 

Drink the last of the summer wine. Enjoy the leftover pieces of watermelon in the refrigerator.  Pick the remaining tomatoes from shriveling vines and watch as the squash and pumpkins grow and grow. 
I leave you today with the following from William Butler Yeats:

The Folly Of Being Comforted

One that is ever kind said yesterday:
'Your well-beloved's hair has threads of grey,
And little shadows come about her eyes;
Time can but make it easier to be wise
Though now it seems impossible, and so
All that you need is patience.'
Heart cries, 'No,
I have not a crumb of comfort, not a grain.
Time can but make her beauty over again:
Because of that great nobleness of hers
The fire that stirs about her, when she stirs,
Burns but more clearly. O she had not these ways
When all the wild Summer was in her gaze.'

Heart! O heart! if she'd but turn her head,
You'd know the folly of being comforted.  

Privilege and Cantaloupe

I was cutting cantaloupe for breakfast this morning. I've been thinking of my grandma a lot lately, since she died in March, the day before her birthday.  And when I think of her I usually have memories of food and home and cooking and cleaning with lemon-scented Pledge.


This morning it was cantaloupe.  I usually don't bother with it because of the slicing and scooping out of seeds and so forth.  Plus it gets a little slimy and I don't really enjoy handling this fruit. But it reminds me of childhood. It would be early on a dry summer morning, around 6:30 when the sun comes up over the ridge.  Out on Patit Creek Road it's a valley winding through farmland.  On either side of my grandparents house are cows belonging to the Broughton's and Grandpa and Uncle Kennard usually had a cow/calf or a couple of them to raise for meat.  Old farm implements dot the landscape and Grandpa's shop always had machinery and tools and bins of nails, screws and other things someone might need to fix the problems of the world.  It smelled like oil and old grease and whatever old mamma cat they had would inevitably hide her kittens in the shop because it was out of the elements and cats always trusted Grandpa more than anyone in the world. The five acres my grandparents owned were farmed every year to grow alfalfa or grass hay for the animals.  In later years, my cousins Lester and Little Kennard, the grandsons of my great uncle Kennard, did the seeding and harvesting for Grandpa.  That's what family is for, to go on and to help and to keep things going.

Grandma loved cantaloupe.  She would make breakfast when I was little, getting up early to throw sausage and pancakes on the griddle and she would always have a fresh fruit and milk and coffee to drink.  To wake up in the morning to that was such a treat.  The smell of the griddle and the coffee percolating and sometimes the washer and dryer going at the same time made me happy to be alive.  And we'd sit down and eat when she called us, watching "Good Morning America" on television.  Then it would be dishes and clean up and outside to play.  The sun would begin to cook us and in the afternoon, after lunch, Grandma would take us to the pool for a couple of hours.  There was always cold watermelon when we got home.  Much of that fruit, plus all of the walla walla sweet onions were bought at roadside stands.  The strawberries came from Klickers and once, my sister brought home a starving calico kitten which she called  "Onion Baby".  One of the most loving cats we ever had.

Some people have privilege in their lives through social status or money.  This morning, I bit into the juicy cantaloupe and thought of the privilege of my youth, of gravel roads and public swimming pools and I wonder if I will ever find that again.

Lake Hefner

I've been meaning to take Pippi out for a ride.  Pippi is my bicycle, a white Schwinn with upright handles and a bell that goes "ding dong" when you hit it.  She's been in the garage for far too long.  So today was the day.  I had to find a new nut for a screw to hold one of her beautiful silver fenders in place and that involved a trip to Ace Hardware, a conversation with someone who did not work there, then someone who did, then me finding the replacement.  Good thing I remembered to take the screw with me.  It's metric. Pippi is metric, if you wondered.

I go to Lake Hefner a lot lately.  It's only a few miles from the house and the 9.5 miles is a great long walk, jog or easy bike ride.  You don't have to go the whole way around and when I take dogs, I don't.  Generally they go about a mile and a half on warm days, and they get to jump into the water and wallow in the red mud.  Makes my little suv look pretty and smell nice...

Anyway, today was a Pippi day.  I like this bike because it reminds me not to take things so seriously, to relax and have fun.  I'm pretty competitive, as we all are, and you just can't race on a Schwinn.  Pippi is more than a bike- she is a mindset of stopping to smell the roses and remembering to notice and smile at the little things.

There are four parts to Lake Hefner, in my estimation.  I park off of Britton Road, which is on the northeast side.  Then I head south.  This first part is the "Look at me" part of the trip.  There are always people at the restaurants on the side of the trail and those who wish to be seen exercising usually concentrate themselves in this area.  It's the guy running with his shirt off, stopping to do some push-ups by the outdoor seating area at Louie's, or the tall and willowy lady with make up, spandex and a sports bra jogging slowly past as though she were in a condom commercial.  There are the rest of us regular people, wearing baggy shorts and tee shirts, women with our ponytails at odd angles and bobby pins falling out and heavy-set men huffing past.  I don't think anyone can see us past the "look at me's" and that's probably a good thing. I generally sweat a lot when I'm at the lake and I don't want to be noticed.  I want to sweat.  I go past this area as quickly as possible and like to start out here first, in case I see anyone I know.    The landscape is very pretty here too- you can walk up to the fake lighthouse, watch the sunset and the windsurfers and para-gliders on a windy day.  The wind, if you're traveling south, is in your face and sometimes a challenge to keep going.

The next part is the lush and green part of the trail.  You'll find a lot more trees on the south side of the lake, with little inlets for fishing, boat ramps and the model airplane field.  In the evenings, you'll see the little skunk that lives there and during the day, when the sun is beating down, the trees offer some protection.  Once you get to the southwest corner, you'll see the Fire Station.  In the late afternoons and evenings, the firemen play basketball on the court outside of their building.  I like to time my run/walk/voyeurism/bike ride to coincide with this event as often as possible.  Who doesn't like firemen?

Part three is the golf course.  This may be the most annoying part of the voyage.  You have to run practically the whole length of the course to get around and you lose sight of the lake at the same time.  Usually you can see from one side to another, like the lake is a giant bathtub, but in this part, all you get is a view of people chasing a ball, only to hit it again.  It brings out the socialist in me, to be honest.  I pass the time by plotting what I could with all that land.  I'd build a huge homeless shelter where the residents live for free.  What isn't taken up with living space would be a garden and agricultural center, plus a small school... *Thunk*!  A golf ball hits smack down in front of me.  It misses me by less than a foot.  Some yutz has hit it clean off the course.  I give him and his ugly-pants wearing party the stink eye and try to continue on my way, but they want me to retrieve the ball for them.  Then they want me to join them for a drink.  I say unkind and hateful things, words that might kill a sensitive man.  Unrepeatable in polite society.  But these are golfers and it's a good bet that they are drunk anyway.  And they almost hit me.  I hear one whimper as I go by. Later, I feel guilty, but in the moment I am a sanctimonious asshole and they must pay for their capitalistic greed and gluttony.

The last part of my escapade is the north side.  The wind has returned.  On the east side of the lake the wind seems to blow north if you're going south.  On the west side, it seems to blow south if you're going north.  I have tried reversing my route, but it only makes the wind do the same.  If you go to Lake Hefner, you're going to be going against the wind no matter which direction you take.  This part of the lake is closest to the water and is about three miles of treelessness.  I refer to it as "gnat central".  No matter when you are there, keep your mouth closed- breathe through your nose- and wear sunglasses.  I don't care if it's 11 p.m.  It's the best way to keep the gnat clouds out of your mouth and eyes.  I once was riding and caught a gnat on an inhale.  Could feel him stuck in my lung, screaming for help, doing the backstroke and drowning in mucous.  It burned.  I felt bad for him.  That was in 2005 and I bet in a spelunking expedition you could find his corpse embedded in an alveoli or something.  The North side of the lake also has a different clientele than the other parts.  It's accessible easily by car and it's by the water so there are all sorts of fisherpeople out, sitting on the ripwrap, fishing for catfish or other thingies.  Others park and get high and Oklahoma City's finest make frequent drive-bys.  Last time I walked the lake I was picking up trash (all walks should involve this activity, btw) and declined to pick up the bent and burnt spoon.  Gnat Central is sort of a tough neighborhood.

Riding Pippi today was a new adventure.  I always had a mountain bike before, and tried for a certain time. I pushed myself.  Today I looked around a little more.  I was passed by a load of hammerheads.  A hammerhead is a cyclist whose bike costs more than my car.  They have those special shoes and spandex gear with a Camelbak.  The helmets are pointed in the back, making them look a little sharky.  And they do laps around me.  Sometimes I got the backwards glance from a hammerhead, like "what the hell are you doing here?", or maybe they were just jealous.  After all, I have the big butt seat on my bike and they have to wear padding on their trousers to make their seats comfortable.  My seat has all the padding I need.  Just for fun, I rang my bicycle bell at someone.  And I was passed by a hipster on a rickety-looking Huffy.  "Nice bike", she said.  "Thanks!"  I'm pretty sure I beamed.

No matter what I've been doing, the last thousand yards of my journey are the best.  I can see the car and my swollen hands and thirsty mouth don't matter anymore.  The salt from all that sweat drying on my neck has ceased to itch and the sunburn I inevitably suffer stops burning for a minute or two: I've made it. I'm not going to die from this.  I get to go home and drink all of the water in the world.  I pat Pippi on the handle bars.  Great job.  Let's do it again.