tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-81554992593997412932024-03-05T16:51:42.826-08:00The Two Least Likely ToIts dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.comBlogger160125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-47677014300772075262015-05-27T12:29:00.003-07:002015-05-27T12:29:27.680-07:00Games These Days<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
There is a place downtown called The Village Cafe. It looks like this:</div>
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<a href="http://www.thevillagedowntown.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/frontdoor-791x1024.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.thevillagedowntown.com/wp-content/uploads/2009/10/frontdoor-791x1024.jpg" height="320" width="247" /></a><a href="http://susanhilton.com/files/2010/03/villagecafe.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://susanhilton.com/files/2010/03/villagecafe.jpg" height="212" width="320" /></a></div>
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One of my very favorite things to do is take Ben out to special little places like this to order fancy drinks</div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">mmmm, chai latte.....</td></tr>
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<span style="text-align: center;">and play some hands-on, fierce, no-mercy games. Sorry is a favorite, but since we rode our bikes, I stuck an Angry Birds card game and the classic UNO in my purse. </span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvTDL0_4erJxAz1w54u1L3tSp6TspG7T-LpGA5Adxxed9zaVxHKbR_RsHsFIYjCXuDAqeORj0nqgAdJ0kdn483v3GI0fkp0GxXXN_kQZxBiu-Y1Ob4hmKnuqf0GxvsS4UmCrDGpyI84Q/s1600/Weekend_5.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCvTDL0_4erJxAz1w54u1L3tSp6TspG7T-LpGA5Adxxed9zaVxHKbR_RsHsFIYjCXuDAqeORj0nqgAdJ0kdn483v3GI0fkp0GxXXN_kQZxBiu-Y1Ob4hmKnuqf0GxvsS4UmCrDGpyI84Q/s320/Weekend_5.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>
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I"m not sure how nice of a person you (yeah you, reader.) are. Are you humane? Or are you merciless? We are fairly relentless against Ben when it comes to playing games. Jared more-so than myself. Sometimes the family feud gets serious though. Jared has just about quit mid-game during Angry Birds because Ben will run over and whisper in my ear about how he is going to skip his dad's turn. Jared interprets this as an alliance being formed. Then things get serious. </div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">"You CAN'T form an alliance!"</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">'da hell, dad?!?</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Serious considerations here </td></tr>
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I know that kids need to be challenged and shouldn't just Expect to win all the time. But I'm not sure pummeling your child at checkers every chance you get instills much confidence. That is probably why game producers made games like Candy Land, where no strategy what-so-ever is involved. Keeps the parents from being assholes to their kids. I don't know what we're turning poor Ben into. Certainly he will either turn out to be a poor sport, or win all the sportsmanship awards. </div>
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Perhaps we are strik methods are just to prepare Ben to become a professional cyclist where you are penalized for <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2015/05/news/cookson-the-uci-jury-had-no-option-with-skys-porte_371087" target="_blank">helping another person during a race</a>. See child, NOTHING GOOD EVER COMES FROM HELPING SOMEONE ELSE!</div>
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<img src="http://cdn.velonews.competitor.com/files/2015/05/Richie-Porte-and-Simon-Clarke-659x440.jpg" title="Richie Porte and Simon Clarke" /></div>
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Speaking of Richie Porte and the recent articles about him... This photo keeps showing up: <img src="http://cdn.velonews.competitor.com/files/2015/05/Richie-Porte2-659x440.jpg" title="Richie Porte" /></div>
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and I know I know, the course was muddy and stuff, but.. can I just say...he just looks way too much like he's about to exclaim "I have a mole?!" </div>
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.<img alt="Image result for robin hood men in tights, mole" class="rg_i" data-sz="f" jsaction="load:str.tbn" name="qD4mZ2vI4XMF4M:" 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Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-55793526127592540972015-05-18T06:49:00.000-07:002015-05-18T06:49:17.361-07:00Jerry Jeff Walker at Gruene HallJared has been a winner at surprises lately.<br />
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A while back, for no reason in particular, he picked up tickets to see <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jerry_Jeff_Walker" target="_blank">Jerry Jeff Walker</a> at the legendary <a href="http://gruenehall.com/" target="_blank">Gruene Hall</a>. I'll let you wiki the significance of each component there.<br />
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So we took off Friday a hair early for work with Chemistry Mole on our dashboard.<br />
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We knew time would be tight so we had dinner-of-champions</div>
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Doors opened at 8p.m. and we parked at 7:25. Just enough time to get in a line that was already a block long. Safe to say, the place was packed. </div>
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<span style="text-align: left;">We still managed to get 4th row seats and of course drink a few <a href="http://www.shiner.com/" target="_blank">Shiners</a>. I'm not sure we can get more Texas than this without having to purchase a pick-up truck and some guns. </span></div>
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Anyway, the show was Great. The whole place stood up and started dancing during a few of the more popular songs. For a 73yr old singer/songwriter.. That Jerry Jeff sure can still get down!</div>
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We were hangry after the show, but no where was serving real food anymore. So back at the hotel we ordered pizza and–not-even-kidding–watched the Golden Girls on the fancy cable TV. Because that's just how we roll. </div>
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The next morning we scrolled through our handheld electronic computers (aka phones) for a half hour before finding a place that seemed suitable for breakfast and was open before noon. It was a half a mile in some direction so we figured we would walk. Fortunately (I think) we both have ADD. On the first block of our journey we came across "The Oldest Bakery in Texas!" </div>
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How can you not stop there? We'll just have a pre-breakfast snack to hold us over until breakfast...</div>
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<span style="text-align: center;">SO MANY CHOICES! A loaf of pumpernickel bread, a muffin (oh how I love muffins), and a brat kolache for Jared....and we were on our way.</span><br />
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But then...<br />
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Then we saw a bright sign with a finger pointing that said "FARMERS MARKET!"<br />
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Oh boy.<br />
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So we followed the arrow, until a block later where we saw an adorable coffee shop and suddenly I was craving a Chai Latte. It was a great stop. Great to get a chai that had a kick to it. It was actually Spicy! So good.<br />
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Then we continued to follow the fingers to the farmers market. It was so very full of so many different types of vendors. Oh so refreshing. If only we had a shopping cart!</div>
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Jared tasting all the pickled things. </div>
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We were full enough from the bakery and farmers market samples that we never did find the restaurant we originally set out for. I have a feeling we made a good choice though. </div>
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Next we journeyed up to San Marcos just for the hell of it. We found an adorable Cafe called the <a href="http://www.rootcellarcafe.com/" target="_blank">Root Cellar Cafe</a>. They had decent lunch food and even better Sangrias. </div>
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It is always a challenge for me to think of things to do with friends/family who come visit us in Texas. We spend so much of our time at parks and riding bikes that we forget about all the other things to go do. I think we'll have to add this little Gruene, New Braunfels, San Marcos tour to our list of things-to-take-people-to-do. It is most definitely the most taste-of-texas thus far.<br />
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<br />Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-15790041003221486892015-05-12T06:36:00.000-07:002015-05-12T07:03:41.134-07:00Mothers Day - For real<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Mothers Day was fantastic. </div>
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First, I slept in. Ben stayed with Ms. B the night before so that he could finish my gift which was a delightful little bird house. We hung it up together as soon as he got home. </div>
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Then we proceeded to be successfully lazy! It was the first weekends since February that we were home. Whew! </div>
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We finally got out of our pajamas sometime afternoon and mounted our bicycles for a family ride to downtown. Ali and I wandered over to <a href="http://www.omgrownyogastudio.com/" target="_blank">Om Grown Yoga</a> for s(om)e sacred sweating while the boys stayed at The Village Cafe and played board games. </div>
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I have to say...I don't care for the cookie cutter, beige town of College Station, but Bryan continually makes me smile. More on that some other day. </div>
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The best part of Mothers day was Ben begging to ride the trails together. </div>
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Mostly, he loves to jump. Our very first lap around he turned his handlebars on his landing and eats it. We squirt some water on his battle wounds and carry on. That, I think, is the most educational part about mountain biking. You don't learn to do the really challenging things without messing up a time or two first. Its moments like that that make you, that teach you the beauty of being able to stand back up again.<br />
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<br />Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-34768781235958961372015-05-09T09:22:00.002-07:002015-05-09T09:22:54.134-07:00Mother's Day Eve<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">
Oh the sweet joys of being a Mom. </div>
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At first I chuckled at Ben's answer to "I love my mom because..." but it reminded me of this proverb:<br />
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">A Zen Teacher saw five of his students return from the market, riding their bicycles. When they had dismounted, the teacher asked the students,</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">"Why are you riding your bicycles?"</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #141823; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;">The first student replied, "The bicycle is carrying this sack of potatoes. I am glad that I do not have to carry them on my back!"</span><span class="text_exposed_show" style="background-color: white; color: #141823; display: inline; font-family: helvetica, arial, 'lucida grande', sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 19.3199996948242px;"><br />The teacher praised the student, saying, "You are a smart boy. When you grow old, you will not walk hunched over, as I do."<br />The second student replied, "I love to watch the trees and fields pass by as I roll down the path."<br />The teacher commended the student, "Your eyes are open and you see the world."<br />The third student replied, "When I ride my bicycle, I am content to chant, nam myoho renge kyo."<br />The teacher gave praise to the third student, "Your mind will roll with the ease of a newly trued wheel."<br />The fourth student answered, "Riding my bicycle, I live in harmony with all beings."<br />The teacher was pleased and said, "You are riding on the golden path of non-harming."<br />The fifth student replied, "I ride my bicycle to ride my bicycle."<br />The teacher went and sat at the feet of the fifth student, and said, "I am your disciple."</span><br />
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Its pretty special when put into that perspective. That a 6yr old loves for the sake of loving. Ben is a sweet kid. He picks me a flower every single time he is on a walk. Any time there is a flower. It is absolutely adorable.<br />
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He is almost 6 now... 6! That means 6 years of mom-ing + those 9 months of not getting to drink any gin, which is sort of like mom-ing. That's hard to wrap my head around (the 6 years part...). A fair number of friends have had kids in the past year or two. Now and then I will see a post about them struggling with the breakdowns and tantrums (on both ends) that comes with having to raise a plant. Dang that part was hard. The diapers, the screaming, the barfing, the screaming... and those funny-looking plants don't even give much back. I mean it. You can tell yourself all you want that those little giggling moments make it all worth it, until you realize the plant is giggling because it just shat itself and you need to get up and go change that in the next 10 minutes.<br />
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As for his comment about my favorite thing to do... "rest ... ride bikes" ...he sure nailed it.<br />
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<br />Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-30449508859058849882011-12-03T19:49:00.000-08:002011-12-03T19:57:20.444-08:00Tis the Season in Tex-as<div>Howdy Y'all,</div><div>Uuum, well... we went to a delightful little <a href="http://cstx.gov/index.aspx?page=639">holiday lights/Christmas in the Park</a> thing tonight and, it really was a wonderful time. Especially since it was free!</div><div><br /></div><div>The best part was probably the hayrack ride, but to Ben the best part was the PILE OF SNOW that they brought in (presumably from somewhere cold. Probably Alaska). </div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgc7cvwavQY-H1pb0bgBlubVaSRl3jfgzaQzSoWQBd1rj2VFQaPW53S9xSawBbx5ZpSdVoDf3DKN86Ii22bSulDSKkCBmh29eU6RhoQHAdObqKuiVdSEzy2r75SbmhoHA1-eFnlUFFQgA/s1600/TexasSnow.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgc7cvwavQY-H1pb0bgBlubVaSRl3jfgzaQzSoWQBd1rj2VFQaPW53S9xSawBbx5ZpSdVoDf3DKN86Ii22bSulDSKkCBmh29eU6RhoQHAdObqKuiVdSEzy2r75SbmhoHA1-eFnlUFFQgA/s320/TexasSnow.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682115566447234594" /></a><div>Unfortunately for me, both camera batteries were dead/dying and there was not enough time to get it adjusted for taking decent pictures. Fortunately for us this happens AGAIN next weekend! We will for sure be back! Free cookies and hot cocoa afterall. Now to just convince Jared to bake something for the baking contest!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-47865003671411642602011-12-01T19:57:00.000-08:002011-12-03T20:06:40.092-08:00Cup Cakes errrr frosting<div>We enjoy mixing it up in how we spend our evenings. </div><div>Sometimes it is silly stuff like making milk blue, but other times it is delicious stuff like making/coloring frosting for cupcakes!</div><div><br /></div><div>True story is that we were playing Candy Land and I had drawn the cupcake (for the 324 time. I always get the @#$!ing cupcake). Ben saw it and declared that he wanted to make cupcakes. I thought: who wouldn't!? So we made cupcakes and frosting. </div><div><br /></div><div>I walked in at one point and snapped this shot. I immediately walked out. They were clearly sneaking something and not telling me about it. </div><div><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjb9aYdMx_Gq92ntq6vStgI-96ynU5XNYh_82bBg6beZrt_CyexOTM4Lo4bxR0Vji8jjR7_HhJ2u3eo0AVJUyzgndwEKqpywfLl8PFTlL0mSEpgQjUn5cunUQEMsekpSAHebdgzmPs-r0/s1600/Jared_ben.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjb9aYdMx_Gq92ntq6vStgI-96ynU5XNYh_82bBg6beZrt_CyexOTM4Lo4bxR0Vji8jjR7_HhJ2u3eo0AVJUyzgndwEKqpywfLl8PFTlL0mSEpgQjUn5cunUQEMsekpSAHebdgzmPs-r0/s320/Jared_ben.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682115548134511682" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Here is Ben's lesson in frosting:</div><div><br /></div><div>Mix it gently as to not make a mess.</div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyBqvR6_sDwTZrUUvMaSAypY9JxXYFjEqyY2XiP_R9TKyCeYIu7rP6RCwZK0MOAVvi_ek7WqEQW-jSM8LBSUS-thlSC5dfg2VH7dbQf9XyU62Vy4q00umbFR6Mc2ONirkujTzgkLvLEM/s1600/ben_frosting1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXyBqvR6_sDwTZrUUvMaSAypY9JxXYFjEqyY2XiP_R9TKyCeYIu7rP6RCwZK0MOAVvi_ek7WqEQW-jSM8LBSUS-thlSC5dfg2VH7dbQf9XyU62Vy4q00umbFR6Mc2ONirkujTzgkLvLEM/s320/ben_frosting1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682119414291959122" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9NJ736T4V7jb766M6F6X-BqXt-9VfNkdY7ZRXEM1xFM072jx7UYScqkM4c_KZAaISvAt51dtl6kbMjvHzXy6kSy8Z6hn5y7G0ysQq89LCTDroCtx2aWT2eyT6wiNnz0Rn1iSdiYpXT8/s1600/ben_frosting2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjo9NJ736T4V7jb766M6F6X-BqXt-9VfNkdY7ZRXEM1xFM072jx7UYScqkM4c_KZAaISvAt51dtl6kbMjvHzXy6kSy8Z6hn5y7G0ysQq89LCTDroCtx2aWT2eyT6wiNnz0Rn1iSdiYpXT8/s320/ben_frosting2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682119413400197730" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Dip Finger. Fall in love. <br /><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV4zn72O8j2vepDmX7m30OlRVOVV-Zz0DBpkVCfPbIcMBP481MNaYA6V8s5QXsDzexe4KbwiElkGOAxNVGPqe1ZZRruVLmGIza1hwrWc9ECkokt7k4YVUmevubRN2_NFmt0-tu1YNf4-0/s320/ben_frosting_step1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682115554344680386" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipjk9uv1WbsfpO1D8rW0FbOExP5w3ne7rBuSW3kuehQOEYO53jYSd-M4KQnPduA6rJyZXrjI16Aw7nKvimH5vz2a8cbKrwA520iRrrN6r6oMlWR_69w9cZOvC_oQMo1S-gyf9jhgUDs0/s1600/ben_frosting_step2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjipjk9uv1WbsfpO1D8rW0FbOExP5w3ne7rBuSW3kuehQOEYO53jYSd-M4KQnPduA6rJyZXrjI16Aw7nKvimH5vz2a8cbKrwA520iRrrN6r6oMlWR_69w9cZOvC_oQMo1S-gyf9jhgUDs0/s320/ben_frosting_step2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682115556431348082" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Question the purpose of the whole cupcake part anyway. Next time I am fairly certain he will just ask to make cupcakes.</div><div><br /></div><div>Which reminds me of a delightful book we have called <i>If you give a cat a cupcake</i>.</div><div><br /><img src="http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/51LTL-9cU0L._BO2,204,203,200_PIsitb-sticker-arrow-click,TopRight,35,-76_AA300_SH20_OU01_.jpg" /><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>It is a great story and closely parallels what happens when you give a 2yr old a cupcake. </div><div><br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-20340060346479803892011-11-27T20:18:00.000-08:002011-11-27T20:23:31.520-08:00Blue Milk<iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.blogger.com/video.g?token=AD6v5dxaFTyJcHw8xFzwbYbnssjAgRMr7U9VlqY06v43rxj1Ux8wy5l0o_XF6r80YWrIi-NcFGAWDm5UyXefQ3L9zA' class='b-hbp-video b-uploaded' frameborder='0'></iframe><div><br /></div><div>Sometimes... The little things are what make parenting worth it all.</div><div><br /></div><div>Jared always pesters Ben, who regularly asks for "fresh milk." In Jared's ...Jaredness, he questions Ben's request with return questions such as "you want... red milk?" "you want... yellow milk?" "you want... blue milk?" To which Ben always replies "noooo daaaaddyyyyy" with a snicker. </div><div><br /></div><div>Ben, being the growing individual that he is, has caught on though. And finally told Jared "Yes!" one of these times. Being the consistent parent that Jared is...... he made Ben blue milk. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-18440197524600688102011-11-26T19:52:00.000-08:002011-11-27T20:18:45.511-08:00Thanksgivin'Oooh Texas. You have isolated us, but we shall not be held down! We shall still cook delicious meals and give thanks for ...stuff. <div><br /></div><div>We still made ourselves some sweet taters.<br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwpBeIgOzyOnvdcHa7cM_G1cyuM0o90t4pO8kwnqH_b02K2-R8BlfmhuSgQP2jCze5-Yhoee0qMpZjGXKmnnXFktRrKu2hgZBMCDqmqOpZbpDPWNbROu38OThOhVUn2cK-FWEPDtYRNk/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCwpBeIgOzyOnvdcHa7cM_G1cyuM0o90t4pO8kwnqH_b02K2-R8BlfmhuSgQP2jCze5-Yhoee0qMpZjGXKmnnXFktRrKu2hgZBMCDqmqOpZbpDPWNbROu38OThOhVUn2cK-FWEPDtYRNk/s320/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679890137845312098" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And Jared picked up a wee little chicken to wrap up in bacon and to stuff with stuffing. Whoah was that good.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLAIVqzfivrbAcPKdcD39l1Yn0_-ioq7LHStyduw9h74uk0R9PDHkKMrVuwtWsiZKnx5qhU1YtETYGpDleTKeCv1xkWVnGZMyb8PEldG5IOErxekkMPngp-Xs9bj2f8zhDLsN-l6ev1g/s1600/bacon_chicken2.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuLAIVqzfivrbAcPKdcD39l1Yn0_-ioq7LHStyduw9h74uk0R9PDHkKMrVuwtWsiZKnx5qhU1YtETYGpDleTKeCv1xkWVnGZMyb8PEldG5IOErxekkMPngp-Xs9bj2f8zhDLsN-l6ev1g/s320/bacon_chicken2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679890124413922690" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpFN9y_KCl6AlR0FF5X9fWPCyicFmVpaJ1KZZ-lj0CIPthyphenhyphen9q8RSA7Zt7WXmvR2pXoNf6kBvGARs9dIF9x_D5Ocjg-ac_gLnqqgpQgK2YU9_1hU2ryUiescRWbqdmu_hO4HJbY5un-bc/s1600/bacon_chicken1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdpFN9y_KCl6AlR0FF5X9fWPCyicFmVpaJ1KZZ-lj0CIPthyphenhyphen9q8RSA7Zt7WXmvR2pXoNf6kBvGARs9dIF9x_D5Ocjg-ac_gLnqqgpQgK2YU9_1hU2ryUiescRWbqdmu_hO4HJbY5un-bc/s320/bacon_chicken1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679890101524018098" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>Even Ben enjoyed a bit of it, as did Homer who is our friend Betsy's new little puppy. Oh yes, Texas, we even managed to not celebrate alone! No no! We grabbed someone else who was far from family! Thanks again for joining us, Betsy!</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_YtyQTuzi3TnIu9ZEj4rkm0we3jBK8rjCi7q20gRuLqDRdt8I0rnqoRZWSInaW6Eyp_WPLud39VJO8_OhWQDag6-acwswTwxvniOMoDJExmoYfyFSQ5oKe3HJM8eNvXS9SVVgkYOdWG8/s320/Homer.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679890116007294898" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></div><div><br /></div><div>We even made some apple piiie. Yum.<br /><br /></div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjqWSHYZ6DzyZW6JhNE8mKI1e16NEi6xJ046Y9s96QCu0Oa4LCL6FAqFFT57cVJHMBqJyuh_LOB2n_WuEA4NNAfcu2KzTh3r3XYfPM7J28PKEvUWyxueVATqqiNs1dlcaxpzdmEGl_Yc/s1600/ApplePie.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKjqWSHYZ6DzyZW6JhNE8mKI1e16NEi6xJ046Y9s96QCu0Oa4LCL6FAqFFT57cVJHMBqJyuh_LOB2n_WuEA4NNAfcu2KzTh3r3XYfPM7J28PKEvUWyxueVATqqiNs1dlcaxpzdmEGl_Yc/s320/ApplePie.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5679890092049484418" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></a></div></div><div><br /></div><div>So aside from not having family around, it wound up being a pretty lovely little, normal thanksgiving. We even went for a walk after dinner, but before pie, over to the park! </div><div><br /></div><div>One of the strangest things was that it was still warm. 60 degrees on Thanksgiving? That will throw these Iowa folk for a loop!</div><div><br /></div><div>What was even More strange was the Thanksgiving potluck that happened at work. Fortunate for me, none of them know about this little space of internet that I occupy, so I feel that I can share. It wasn't strange in a "bad" way anyway though, just in a "ahhh, people are just people." sort of way. </div><div>You see, in the administrative offices, they are well a bunch of prudes. Not all, but some. One in particular. We'll call her...Snude. Just for the hell of it. She is the lady who, no matter what you say, she can one-up it... even when it really <i>isn't</i> better. And this is about Everything. Well I had the pleasure of sitting in her vicinity during the potluck and somehow, one of the ladies started telling the story about beating the crap out of her ex-husband's girlfriend outside of wal mart or something and going to jail for it. Snude proceeds to jump in and tell a similar story involving one of her [4] ex-husbands. She of course did not get arrested for it though, but claimed she probably should have. </div><div>My boss (not in the admin services and not a prude) turns and asks one of my other co-workers if she had ever been to jail. "no!" She didn't ask me. Come to think of it, she didn't ask herself either!! I have never been in jail. Can you imagine if there would have been alcohol involved at this potluck?!?! </div><div>Later Snude gave me a dirty look for sharing that Jared did not know my middle name when we bought our Iowa house together. </div><div><br /></div><div>It really felt like family. I enjoyed it. </div><div><br /></div><div>I like my job. I like Thanksgiving, too. </div><div>Thanks.</div><div><br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-51151653677971899392011-11-22T06:23:00.000-08:002011-11-22T08:20:36.975-08:00Twinkle TwinkleWe like daycare.<br />Not just because it gives us a few hours in our day to not have to be playing trains or dinosaurs, but also because Ben gets to do all sorts of new things with new people. We believe it is good for him.<br />Apparently, they sing quite a few songs at daycare. One day when we picked Ben up, continued singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star over and over again. He would sometimes switch straight into singing the alphabet... probably on accident. They used to do songs at his other daycare too. We knew because he would do the motions to things like The Wheels on the Bus before we ever showed them to him.<br /><br /><br />So anyway. I'm not sure there was too much more of a point to this, but here is Ben helping me sing along. :)<br /><br /><object height="300" width="400"><param name="allowfullscreen" value="true"><param name="movie" value="http://www.facebook.com/v/10100341623565600"><embed src="http://www.facebook.com/v/10100341623565600" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" height="300" width="400"></embed></object>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-28303868850143765892011-11-15T06:12:00.001-08:002011-11-15T06:30:50.593-08:00Early Morning drizzleThis morning, while walking into work after parking my bicycle, I saw a man who looked as though he could be Roger Baer's brother.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs-a5cn_E-eKFXYXJMEtxYLiPA5mKTBjK855njJnOwXWahhFw_hPT0BEHXi1zPku8y2ONHqVUR4NLBfC-dqikbLnhpZX77NxjlsIgvcYjMEVDrCmY9z_tqwpaohXmPI29gtAlRZFBAa8/s1600/RogerBaer.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 236px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixs-a5cn_E-eKFXYXJMEtxYLiPA5mKTBjK855njJnOwXWahhFw_hPT0BEHXi1zPku8y2ONHqVUR4NLBfC-dqikbLnhpZX77NxjlsIgvcYjMEVDrCmY9z_tqwpaohXmPI29gtAlRZFBAa8/s320/RogerBaer.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675225797913523794" border="0" /></a><br />Roger, on the right.<br /><br />And he was riding a bicycle like this:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK1DTprp0zMNtJ273qsS6Z0KJEl5SVADbyQJ6QgyOrGBjdGJUAk4SfKtmhhuFIXp7shEVv48PC2kAHr94MdRnMT2mNFyDS8sBSuc28NoMV3QL5Zi7NZGhxGiFHuvi8PIHIotYepkS96I/s1600/trekNavigator"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBK1DTprp0zMNtJ273qsS6Z0KJEl5SVADbyQJ6QgyOrGBjdGJUAk4SfKtmhhuFIXp7shEVv48PC2kAHr94MdRnMT2mNFyDS8sBSuc28NoMV3QL5Zi7NZGhxGiFHuvi8PIHIotYepkS96I/s320/trekNavigator" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5675226121658687778" border="0" /></a><br />He was wearing a white dress shirt and dark dress pants. Probably a librarian? (he was parking at the library...). It had rained this morning, so the roads were still drying out. Since it isn't particularly cold here (70 degrees this morning at 8am) I figure the next best excuse someone could make to not ride would be... rain!<br /><br />And it gave me hope for the world for some reason.<br /><br />That perhaps there <span style="font-style: italic;">are </span>more Rogers in the world and that perhaps everyone really <span style="font-style: italic;">could </span>commute to school. I wish I would have gone and talked to that man. Ah well, I'm sure i'll see him around. There are only so many roger baer-esk men riding bikes to campus and parking at the library at 8am. :)Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-85119719393468858882011-10-30T11:51:00.000-07:002011-11-10T11:52:14.244-08:00Pac Burley<p>Well! The PacBurley is nearly complete and ready for Halloween. All it needs now is a few folks dressed in costumes to parade it around on Halloween night.</p><p><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-85" title="PacBurley" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/pacburley.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/pacburley.jpg" height="276" width="491" /></p><p>The designer in me knew that we needed to take it for a test run before Halloween arrived. The plan is to join the regular Monday night social ride and do the short loop before returning into town to begin trick-or-treating. That means that the rig will have to hold up for at least 15 miles or so. To test it, we rode out on a new road to a little park called Lick Creek park.</p><p><img style="width: 601px; height: 399px;" class="alignnone" title="Lick Creek Park main trail" src="http://www.asergeev.com/pictures/archives/2008/665/jpeg/17.jpg" alt="" src="http://www.asergeev.com/pictures/archives/2008/665/jpeg/17.jpg" /></p><p>The park is a wonderful little surprise, despite the ugly <a href="http://www.cstx.gov/docs/111946232004lick_creek_brochure-04.pdf" href="http://www.cstx.gov/docs/111946232004lick_creek_brochure-04.pdf">brochure</a>, just 8.5 miles from our house, making it a perfect Burley pulling distance. The main trail is a well packed gravel type with a number of side trails that are more single-track style. It seemed everyone around brought their dogs to walk/run. Probably because if you walk/ride in College Station you wind up getting <a title="A motorcycle meets Me" href="http://gettingtobreck.wordpress.com/2011/10/13/a-motorcycle-meets-me/" href="http://gettingtobreck.wordpress.com/2011/10/13/a-motorcycle-meets-me/">hit by things like motorcycles</a>.</p><p>Most importantly, our burley contraption worked! The Pac-Man rubs a bit against the wheel, but we realized that if we just cut it a bit, he'll be juuust fine. We even found some battery powered Christmas lights to string up along the back. They looked Awesome as we rode home in the sunset.</p><p>So now it only has to survive one more voyage! We're not sure whether it will stay on afterwards or not... it might be hard to part with. My guess though is that by the end of Halloween night it will be dangling by a few strands of twine and some tape, begging to be put out of its misery.</p><p>Still no rear wheel for my road bike...........</p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-57902884420292154572011-10-25T11:46:00.000-07:002011-11-10T11:58:10.129-08:00Cleat Defeat<p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cleats1.jpg"><img class="wpGallery mceItem" title="gallery" src="http://gettingtobreck.wordpress.com/wp-includes/js/tinymce/plugins/wpgallery/img/t.gif" alt="" /></a>The last few rides have presented me with the most unpleasant experience of unexpectedly becoming unclipped from my pedals. This was generally happening on steep climbs or during a hard interval. Neither time being convenient and at least once resulting in a tipping over. So I finally bit the $9 bullet and bought a new set of cleats. The local bike shop actually had them cheaper than anywhere online. Bike things are rarely that great of a deal online these days, just fyi. Not that there needs to be another reason to support your local bike shop, but... there is a pretty good one!<img style="width: 492px; height: 351px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-74" title="cleats1" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cleats1.jpg" alt="" /></p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cleats1.jpg"></a><p>The task of replacing cleats is generally extremely simple. Unscrew two screws, replace parts. Easy.</p><p>These cleats however have apparently been in my shoes, which have been ridden forever, for quite a while. So upon taking out the first screw. The screw stuck to my multitool. Crap.</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/photo-56.jpg"><img style="width: 502px; height: 377px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-76" title="Photo 56" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/photo-56.jpg" alt="" /></a></p><p>The second screw wouldn't budge. It instead stripped out the head into a circle shape. Well this is a conundrum. Now how do I get it out!? So after e-mailing out to the local mt bike club for suggestions, one came back of using a dremel to make a straight line so that a flathead screwdriver would fit. After a few rounds with the dremel, I finally got it to work. Finally, at 4:46pm, 15minutes before I needed to leave for the group ride! Yesss!!!</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/photo-57.jpg"><img style="width: 491px; height: 368px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-77" title="Photo 57" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/photo-57.jpg" alt="" /></a></p><p>Riding was great. I did a fast lap with one of the guys, Mike, and then joined up with the group ride at 6:15 until it was dark. Good, clean ride.</p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-36052804275037322162011-10-15T11:45:00.000-07:002011-11-10T12:01:24.583-08:00The Spirit of Adventure<h2>Planned ride for today:</h2><p>60 mile fast group ride.</p><p>Reality: Broken road wheel. No go.</p><h2>New Plan:</h2><p>Take a family ride at the <a href="http://www.tpwd.state.tx.us/publications/pwdpubs/media/park_maps/pwd_mp_p4505_121.pdf" target="_blank">Somerville Lake trails</a>.</p><p>Reality: We ready ourselves, a little cooler of lunch goods, the diaper bag, our bikes. Great! We're off.<br />5 minutes down the road me: "honey, we don't have the multi-tool..."<br />Jared: "ooooh, we better go get it."<br />So we do. Good. Whew.<br />Per usual on our family rides, we stop to get donuts beforehand. We don't "looove" donuts or anything, we just like kind of trashy, cheap places with interesting people. So places like "Donut Palace" out in Skook Texas makes for a delicious 3 person $2.15 breakfast. I mean, REALLY, where else can you get breakfast for a price like that? Benjamin thanked the donut princess (it was a donut palace... and she didn't look quite old enough to be a Queen... perhaps she was just a palace chef...?) about a dozen times which made her just about pee her pants with happiness and we continued on.</p><p>We made it to the lake and as usual at state parks there is an entrance gate of sorts where you have to park and purchase a day pass. Upon getting out of the car, we see a mom, dad and child (8 or so? 9?) on bikes. So I ask them if they knew if we had to pay to get in and where the trails started.<br />The mom says "yep, you get a pass in that building, the trails start down thattaway."</p><p>So we go inside, the family following behind us, a group of boyscouts in front of us. As we wait, the mom says "We have a season pass, you should let us get you in." So we did, and as the cashier drills her on how many of us there are, how many vehicles, the colors, our ancestry, rate of inflation on a cup of coffee if it originally cost $.75 in 2001 and today costs $1.13......... Okay, those last few were a lie, but she asked a lot of questions. Then proceeded to charge the mom $28. We asked her how much we owed her for our portion and she refused. Nice! We ask where we should park and the mom points us to either the visitor lot, or to their campsite which was right at a trailhead. So we go for the campsite.</p><p>Their son's bike had gotten a flat on the way back to the campsite, and the LEAST we could do was offer up our bike pump.</p><p>So we load up and carry on, but the trail was mostly just sandy, mowed grass. Too much work for Jared who keeps spinning his rear tire out and barely any work for me. So we scratch this riding plan too.</p><h3>New new plan:</h3><p>Ride on the road until we find another road to ride on and ride on it until we feel enough time has passed. WHAT CAN GO WRONG!??!</p><p>Reality: We cruise along some delightful roads, windy and slight rolling hills. Rolled past ranches, oil rigs, dogs chasing us. A wonderful time.</p><p>Me: "hmm, I think my cleat on my shoe has come loose or something...feels weird..."<br />Jared: "uh oh"</p><p>**~90 seconds later...</p><p>/////chhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhttttthhhhhhhhhhhh//////</p><p>My lady business is on my top tube, my elbows are cocked backwards as my chin is just about resting on my stem. My toes are dragging along the ground in some attempt to both maintain my balance and stop me. Now I know what kids on those Strider bikes feel like!!!</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0001.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 331px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-36" title="DSC_0001" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0001.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>Jared looks back as this MUST have sounded and looked AWFULLY confusing. //really i was just trying a new, more aero position...//</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0004.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 331px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-38" title="DSC_0004" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0004.jpg" alt="" /></a><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0005.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 331px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-39" title="DSC_0005" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0005.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>It would appear that a very important bolt had been wiggling itself loose.</p><p>All I know is that these became my new brakes: <a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0007.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 331px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-40" title="DSC_0007" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0007.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>They aren't the Avid BB7s I'm used to on the El Mar but amazingly, they did the trick!</p><p>Good thing we went back for that multi-tool...</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0009.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 331px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-42" title="DSC_0009" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0009.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>All better-ish! Good enough to get us back anyway. FIRST things first, some lunch.</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0011.jpg"><img style="width: 500px; height: 751px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-44" title="DSC_0011" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0011.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>Now, usually when we get back from adventure around a park, we let Ben play at a playground, load up and head home. Today however, those nice nice people from the beginning of the story were at their campsite. Their son had received another flat tire so they gave up for the afternoon and in the meantime had unloaded Literally as much food as we probably have in our house. And it was all Great. I mean.... those fancy Terra chips, Kettle chips, a Huge sack of "organic" oranges (whatever organic means these days), sandwich materials, grape tomatoes, jugs of water and iced tea, and on and on and on. That wasn't just it, they also had 2 fans plugged in and going for under their shade tent thinger, an iPod speaker music playing contraption, and a Suburban filled with other mystical, entertaining things. They had this camping business down. And and and they offered every morsel of it up to us in that fashion that was almost awkward seeing how we had Nothing to give in return. Nothing. Would you like a smelly sock that has been roaming around in the back of our car for 4 months? And we sat and chatted with them at their loaded picnic table for the next 4 hours about little tidbits of nothing, museums, camping adventures, raccoons, food, etc..</p><p>The hospitality of these folks was ...unheard of. We arrived as complete strangers and left being treated as if we had been their life-long, loyal friends.</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0027.jpg"><img style="width: 501px; height: 332px;" class="alignnone size-full wp-image-47" title="DSC_0027" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_0027.jpg" alt="" /></a><br /></p><p>We drove home in the late afternoon, after a week from hell, reminded that there is good in the world. That was better than <em>any</em> ride either of us could have possibly planned.</p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-85825042332244115542011-10-13T11:44:00.000-07:002011-11-10T11:45:26.762-08:00Motorcycle Mayhem<p>I had just finished one of my faaavorite interval workouts. Remember... training for Breckenridge is targeting my weaknesses, hills and endurance. This workout is neither of those! Awesome!</p><p>15 minutes - warm up (increasing intensity)<br />5 x (40 sec. very high intensity – 20 sec. low intensity)<br />3 minutes recovery<br />5 x (40 sec. very high intensity – 20 sec. low intensity)<br />3 minutes recovery<br />5 x (40 sec. very high intensity – 20 sec. low intensity)<br />3 minutes recovery</p><p>I then proceeded to complete a second loop just because it was gorgeous out and I needed another 40 minutes.<br /> As I was cruising home in a delightful bikelane, it occured to me that a motorcycle who was all of a sudden riding up beside me, TAKES A RIGHT HAND TURN and takes me out.</p><p>Note me, the blue arrows, in my straight and clear bike lane. Note motorcycle's path...</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycleaccident-04.jpg" href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycleaccident-04.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-29" title="MotorcycleAccident-04" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycleaccident-04.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycleaccident-04.jpg" height="429" width="594" /></a><br /></p><p>Now, I am very level headed and calm such situations. But this time it appears being run into by a motorcycle cluttered my mind as I was absolutely dumbfounded as the guy asks me<br />"DO YOU HEAR THAT BEEPING? That is my blinker signaling that I'm about to turn."<br /> To which I responded: "Yeah, I heard your blinking, and a: I didn't know what the hell it was and b: didn't know Which way you were turning and c: IT DOESN'T MATTER BECAUSE I HAD THE RIGHT OF WAY!"<br />Except that the dumbfoundedness of his question left me without clear enough mind to add part "c"</p><p>Anyway, now I need to get to a bike store and get my wheel fixed...</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycle_wheel.jpg" href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycle_wheel.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-30" title="motorcycle_wheel" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycle_wheel.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/motorcycle_wheel.jpg" height="394" width="594" /></a><br /></p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-29098103048172310482011-10-11T11:44:00.000-07:002011-11-10T11:44:34.666-08:00Tuesday Night MTB<p>Every Tuesday is a group ride out at Lake Bryan. The sun is starting to go down sooner and sooner and this is more than heartbreaking. Someday when I get a big-kid job, I will invest in some lights. Until then we may just have to find a new time to ride!</p><p>To make group riding a possibility, Jared and I take turns. This week it was his turn to go ride from 5:30-6:15 solo and my turn to take the rest of the daylight with the group. The person not riding gets to throw rocks into the lake with Ben or take him for a walk or do whatever else it is you do with a 2yr old out in nature. All the while Ben is just wishing his girlfriend, Dora were along for the sunset as mom's backpack is not nearly as awesome.</p><p>It is a fairly enjoyable time, there are nice views such as this one:</p><p><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-16" title="BVMBA-trees" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/bvmba-trees.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/bvmba-trees.jpg" height="325" width="490" /></p><p>Tonight, not many new riders showed up so it was a much quicker pace. This is a relief as according to my chore list, Tuesday and Thursdays are supposed to be hard rides. In doing it faster, I nailed 2 sections that I had previously had to put a foot or two down to get over. Exciting. There is now only ONE spot, one goddamn rooty climb in the whole 20mile trail system that I have yet to clear. I think there is a small part of me that doesn't want to clear it. It gives me something to come back for, a challenge to conquer. I feel a bit like once I clear it all, then all that is left is to ride it faster and faster each time. I suppose that is Okay.</p><p>Do: try to clear at least 1 new thing each ride.<br />Do not: forget chamios buttr.</p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-13063007948201589812011-10-10T11:43:00.000-07:002011-11-10T11:43:58.654-08:00Monday Group<p>As "winter" presses closer, so do shorter days. I put that word in quotes because now that we are in Texas we are convinced that we will not actually experience "winter" as we know it. Though down here they swear it gets rough. Dear Texans, I have looked through your photo albums and notice you are in short sleeve shirts at Christmas and the sun is shining. That is NOT winter. Winter is snowy and lurking with gray skies and cold so cold that you look like THIS after a ride: <a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cirrem_cold.jpg" href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cirrem_cold.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-26" title="CIRREM_cold" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cirrem_cold.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/cirrem_cold.jpg" height="445" width="594" /></a><br /></p><p>Anyway, the Monday night group ride takes off at 6pm and is ~70 minutes long. This is mostly due to the casual, social pace of the ride. We LOVE it because it is the perfect pace to be able to pull the Burley and still keep up. We always do our best to reward Ben at the end of each ride with a stop at the park. Since the sun sets at 7:15 and the ride goes until 7:15 or so, we were sure to add an excessive amount of lights to our rides for the way home. Ben especially likes this as the blinking fascinates him. We are fairly certain he will be a tripped out hippie by the age of ...7.</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00031.jpg" href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00031.jpg"><img class="alignnone size-full wp-image-24" title="DSC_0003" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00031.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00031.jpg" height="394" width="594" /></a><br /></p><p>Especially if he keeps attempting to fix cowbells with screwdrivers.</p><p><a href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00021.jpg" href="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00021.jpg"><img title="DSC_0002" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00021.jpg" alt="" src="http://gettingtobreck.files.wordpress.com/2011/10/dsc_00021.jpg" height="394" width="594" /></a><br /></p>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-89360235098725425412011-08-15T04:43:00.000-07:002011-08-15T04:48:27.910-07:00The little things... like garbageWe love Ames... let me add just one more reason.... and maybe this happens elsewhere and I really can't wait to find out if it does.
<br />
<br />If we forget to put our trash out. The trash gents bring orange barrels to where we've left our garbage thing...
<br /><img src="http://www.chittygarbage.com/images/96g%20recycling%20angle.jpg">
<br />and take our trash from there out to the garbage truck.
<br />
<br />I mean... a nice restaurant builds a reputation off of quality food and great service. Grocery stores say "where there's a helpful smile, in every aisle." but not to many people think about their garbage Service. So this morning I say "thanks" Chitty garbage for some great trash service, because we are Totally forgetful and you still take care of us. Win.
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<br />Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-68807279951338323232011-08-03T09:10:00.000-07:002011-08-03T09:45:01.880-07:00Finished!Welp, Jared did it.
<br /><div>errr, is doing it. At this very moment, he is defending allll of the blah blah, narfa narfa that he has been working on here at ISU for the past however many years. </div><div>His creation is complete:</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvKxjaF6DQCbM-t7Rnms7UXp3JFgDsg-7Ncd6hpNcrvjlWpIhx1uFw0krwUsactRMt2RFd2cqC3lqZYqYFPemCwNGC_59vSz8VCtSp8Di7PM9R42vS2dii2I72s5pptvuUq-vfIdintRo/s1600/LawnMower_grocerycartTravel.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 222px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgvKxjaF6DQCbM-t7Rnms7UXp3JFgDsg-7Ncd6hpNcrvjlWpIhx1uFw0krwUsactRMt2RFd2cqC3lqZYqYFPemCwNGC_59vSz8VCtSp8Di7PM9R42vS2dii2I72s5pptvuUq-vfIdintRo/s320/LawnMower_grocerycartTravel.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636663089858773138" /></a>
<br /><div>
<br /></div><div>oops. </div><div>Wrong image. That is our future mode of transportation... not jared's research.</div><div>
<br /></div><div>THIS is jared's research:</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFqfwv-mUQTsj8xywfvoC75tM0H-SWvKu05geGB-MbxeeztnG_4wO_dFn0jMKtVHggCqGP3wSs3SyJ-x6MLa-xmVEr4sbOVNDx1KHzbLJcdz2RLgX7iQNsDIeBJixpwQs2U2KZpp2wS8k/s320/Jareds_research.jpg" style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636664067917678658" /></div><div>
<br /></div><div>Yeah I know, R. L. Stine came up with this stuff YEARS ago ...and called it Monster Blood:</div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUqqrcnzd3pVPpxyiv7LxBYZQ24q_mCYVAAI16WX51Ishds81ENEFSwiExa_-rXiljgMIZn3LZdEVwy19jNf0owB9oDEoL4AtIOXC3HWJDRzplP4EEXvp9nl-7JTd-uh0ZvfSClCV-kw/s1600/GoosebumpsMonsterBlood.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjSUqqrcnzd3pVPpxyiv7LxBYZQ24q_mCYVAAI16WX51Ishds81ENEFSwiExa_-rXiljgMIZn3LZdEVwy19jNf0owB9oDEoL4AtIOXC3HWJDRzplP4EEXvp9nl-7JTd-uh0ZvfSClCV-kw/s320/GoosebumpsMonsterBlood.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636664821152402562" style="cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 208px; " /></a></div><div>
<br /></div><div>Significantly more interesting than ....Jared's benzobisblahblahnarfanarf. ;) I don't think the Monster Blood is organic though... Organic in the carbon sense, not in the "USDA Certified Organic" stuff. I have a feeling you wouldn't want to eat or drink jared's research. Then again, would you want to drink Monster Blood? ......"well, if it had an organic stamp on it, of course!"</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Where was I?</div><div>Oh yes! Jared is done!! In the past 5 years he's gotten some publications, some university awards, some honor cords, some ACS award, a taekwondo black belt, a Benji-pooper, and of course...me!</div><div>
<br /></div><div><meta charset="utf-8">Yep, Jared has grown from this:
<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZy5VVVaZSnT-yNaLMtXquhRyHXOlcZNMlNqyjpqxHcOg9iPFvs-YHHGgXpf3GsyTJsU2Aphgjrq3Kbrfj0b3wnmJZ-h1fBuxej-2_X7wS3Dkji_X6TXbDsCrs7wHNJRtPV9poTs2sJVQ/s1600/Jared_goofy.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZy5VVVaZSnT-yNaLMtXquhRyHXOlcZNMlNqyjpqxHcOg9iPFvs-YHHGgXpf3GsyTJsU2Aphgjrq3Kbrfj0b3wnmJZ-h1fBuxej-2_X7wS3Dkji_X6TXbDsCrs7wHNJRtPV9poTs2sJVQ/s320/Jared_goofy.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636669065160344258" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>
<br /></div><div>to this:</div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMIC8O3Yln_KSJhlWvYWjzzwC45wowKHJXJRWe-tJovMTGfpnsafHIvnVKfGZgGf1iMxO-qp93MPWIDOXR5MaUSNrCDyL03p0SrBYZHvGCQ6zYrDcdHJ74iVIRqOCfleR1QYoz9huLT6Y/s320/Jared_goofy2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636669850713747362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></div><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><div>
<br /></div><div>.........hmmm.....</div><div>
<br /></div><div><meta charset="utf-8"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaoBquch_sQH-phQtb2snhy3j4VMeBvc3c6Gd4VaRgdj1n8iCOWWDcBgvHLw3_szHib-vZQI-kXwLZRczgmEDIGKlDFjOxTM1NRK3yy0GR43rGycV91f3uvKOvf3zfJz1eEL7UxLrAmI/s1600/jared_ben1.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjaoBquch_sQH-phQtb2snhy3j4VMeBvc3c6Gd4VaRgdj1n8iCOWWDcBgvHLw3_szHib-vZQI-kXwLZRczgmEDIGKlDFjOxTM1NRK3yy0GR43rGycV91f3uvKOvf3zfJz1eEL7UxLrAmI/s320/jared_ben1.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5636671465082885202" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>
<br /></div><div>Anyway.........Congrats, Jared. Love you. :) </div><meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=UTF-8"><div>
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<br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-74480378663646177712011-07-29T21:18:00.000-07:002011-07-30T12:57:27.189-07:00Yep, getting hitched someday.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh515A3T2T1jTVPsXm_jL6JtK-M4BvWVUoXgv5Pmua1qwn-f_R1pmLzgzCyz4NXpb5w1QBySookFHZeFgxlfe5Wa7lTCFKeNt7mNwtMUJStYPM1p3SQHdPu0sJDf9vF2RC-w9QsAnStows/s1600/Jared_Kim_engaged.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh515A3T2T1jTVPsXm_jL6JtK-M4BvWVUoXgv5Pmua1qwn-f_R1pmLzgzCyz4NXpb5w1QBySookFHZeFgxlfe5Wa7lTCFKeNt7mNwtMUJStYPM1p3SQHdPu0sJDf9vF2RC-w9QsAnStows/s320/Jared_Kim_engaged.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635236759882662514" /></a><div><br />Well family, Jared finally did it. He finally popped "the" question. You know the one. The one that everyone has been asking about for well over 2 years... And yep, I said "yes" <div><br /></div><div>He asked on the 4th day of our RAGBRAI journey. ...after 240 some bicycle miles he must have been delirious enough to go for it. Now, we didn't do RAGBRAI the normal way (Usually you start on the western edge of Iowa and ride all the way across the state until the Mississippi). Instead we rode our bikes out to the start of RAGBRAI in a small group, and then hopped into the chaos. We did this self-supported... pulling our tent, sleeping pads, food, clothes, etc in a trailer behind a bike. ...whoah, talk about a workout. </div><div>I must tangent here for a moment. One of the most inspiring parts of cycling is when the ride is over (for me at least). When you look back to the moments when you Swore your legs would not push over one more pedal stroke, where you begged quietly in your head for a serious mechanical issue to end it all, or pray for some truck to offer to pick you up and drive you to the end. But somehow, something within us gets us to keep pushing beyond what we would have ever expected our bodies to be capable of. The moments of determination where you decide not to give up... those are the priceless victories that no one gives prizes or schwag for (unless that turning point happens in a race that you end up winning, I suppose), but that are certainly wroth at least 15 experience points. Along our ragbrai journey, i'd say we ALL hit at least one of those moments, and won. Awesome.</div><div>What made it even better was digging through that challenge with Jared alongside! He has never taken on such a physical challenge, and like every other challenge we've barreled through together, we conquered it with flying colors, crap-tons of food, countless cornfield pee stops, and a few saddle sores (our other challenges have unfortunately not previously included the extra elements). </div><div>So on that 4th day of our journey, when we were slamming a couple of smoothies underneath of a shade tree together Jared pulls his keychain out of a plastic baggie that had been in his sweaty jersey pocket. On the keychain he had been carrying the ring around. As he fumbles to take the ring off, he asks me to marry him. </div><div><br /></div><div>Happy RAGBRAI indeed.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-42262517718159277292010-12-19T06:52:00.000-08:002010-12-19T11:31:21.840-08:00Winter CrossSo... since this blog is mostly for family... and I keep attempting to explain what this "cyclocross" business is to family... I figured I should do a post to help make some sense of it. <div><br /></div><div>Typically, you have a tight winding course 1-2 miles long and it is ridden for 45ish minuets. It is set up on grass (or maybe sand or mud or...whatever) with at least a few hills and a few barriers. Part of a course might look something like this.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhRTNrdD1DpTtT29ATqpxgAnc4GP4WAE7ydE0LwqERQT0fvsZZckqRqxF9rIEcYSQopOcuMqTgTi5AdZRiAwZ1yvXVMsEeSjoNa-zyQzdq5rgIC-K_FuVM2gYZwWo7tqPJYnlQmF2qIQ/s1600/DSC_0007.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHhRTNrdD1DpTtT29ATqpxgAnc4GP4WAE7ydE0LwqERQT0fvsZZckqRqxF9rIEcYSQopOcuMqTgTi5AdZRiAwZ1yvXVMsEeSjoNa-zyQzdq5rgIC-K_FuVM2gYZwWo7tqPJYnlQmF2qIQ/s320/DSC_0007.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552411221944587234" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And they put barriers at the dumbest (most challenging?) places, like here: </div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVvvNfzCi0o68dhnzu8JaUrLKS3Fa6Rl_FVeDoA3vG_xkwfnuhHXdFF2DmBSwvW1Xp3DlMHuc3v4QLkj3KpZZW2GGuloSz3mT_PugoJztAsjcE-zDqw77n4RbjJqwOXF60lFTAaZcZF0/s1600/cross3.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVvvNfzCi0o68dhnzu8JaUrLKS3Fa6Rl_FVeDoA3vG_xkwfnuhHXdFF2DmBSwvW1Xp3DlMHuc3v4QLkj3KpZZW2GGuloSz3mT_PugoJztAsjcE-zDqw77n4RbjJqwOXF60lFTAaZcZF0/s320/cross3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552411229399559810" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiNVvvNfzCi0o68dhnzu8JaUrLKS3Fa6Rl_FVeDoA3vG_xkwfnuhHXdFF2DmBSwvW1Xp3DlMHuc3v4QLkj3KpZZW2GGuloSz3mT_PugoJztAsjcE-zDqw77n4RbjJqwOXF60lFTAaZcZF0/s1600/cross3.jpg"></a>The perspective makes it hard to tell, but that is a ~20" barrier on a slippery, steep little climb.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>This however is normal fall cyclocross.............<br />we all know... that it is now mid-December and the rain/mud has turned to SNOW!!</div><div><div><br /></div><div>So the course this past weekend looked a bit more like this:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6vOfUkZj1ufHm0oYdNc-IP5xI1WdeYkNe46_kPgHYaPxWwesSouJy7QLcfZPj3DBOPqFqhXDpbtiDNFWyX-C_zIm1D3-R2SiWmo02iDRZ_627U2N3wGRonb5h7WObuxW-gptzU0R6mE/s1600/MulletsCrossRace2.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX6vOfUkZj1ufHm0oYdNc-IP5xI1WdeYkNe46_kPgHYaPxWwesSouJy7QLcfZPj3DBOPqFqhXDpbtiDNFWyX-C_zIm1D3-R2SiWmo02iDRZ_627U2N3wGRonb5h7WObuxW-gptzU0R6mE/s320/MulletsCrossRace2.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552410353814314706" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div>I'm in the red. You can see in the background a rider dropping down the slope, about to enter a winding part of the course. Then over a ..."natural" barrier.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5M8hkAtOoUYiQ45rSWi5uq29xfOc-w7FuxLE8kWfWmODKwTEchAUxJ0BYghEFVzsjR46rHYtPEYrzHeTDSKDSIesy9APvEKrThhBteY5LGQE0ZFZT9NazoUm1wmKREDLnGMxRth2TpQ/s1600/MulletsCrossBarrier.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5M8hkAtOoUYiQ45rSWi5uq29xfOc-w7FuxLE8kWfWmODKwTEchAUxJ0BYghEFVzsjR46rHYtPEYrzHeTDSKDSIesy9APvEKrThhBteY5LGQE0ZFZT9NazoUm1wmKREDLnGMxRth2TpQ/s320/MulletsCrossBarrier.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552410358106065202" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEii5M8hkAtOoUYiQ45rSWi5uq29xfOc-w7FuxLE8kWfWmODKwTEchAUxJ0BYghEFVzsjR46rHYtPEYrzHeTDSKDSIesy9APvEKrThhBteY5LGQE0ZFZT9NazoUm1wmKREDLnGMxRth2TpQ/s1600/MulletsCrossBarrier.jpg"></a>^ not me. </div><div><br /></div><div>The snow makes it a whole new ball game. There was a section where we rode up and down a sort of ditch line.</div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFE7dR5F7PhIJtv9Le7TIBdNApy2dE9HyShf-WZvaDrMbxuLYR4L8089EE8PyKOAuZcFsDIqPOJAlCAPkr7cBYlyZYUVMnF19X2aAg3HDS687ayAs5Q1T6Lbm6so-S2l0RPVn8xM96iE/s1600/MulletsCrossDitch.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJFE7dR5F7PhIJtv9Le7TIBdNApy2dE9HyShf-WZvaDrMbxuLYR4L8089EE8PyKOAuZcFsDIqPOJAlCAPkr7cBYlyZYUVMnF19X2aAg3HDS687ayAs5Q1T6Lbm6so-S2l0RPVn8xM96iE/s320/MulletsCrossDitch.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552475659102044450" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a> </div><div>It was...slippery to say the least. </div><div><br /></div><div>Going down looked something like this:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntQYKidatC2V7CkMib_2kADpt2ZxAsB0BTByWKDRs0JsztMN5bWNbqVbHS81ygtL5ITIA1vU4U9zeIZiQUN3mIJOzF1HmyTN7B0gAUr-0D1iTOfxlTJkQ8dd0tLIuNzmPQ55Z1lQRXaw/s1600/MulletsCrossRace3.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhntQYKidatC2V7CkMib_2kADpt2ZxAsB0BTByWKDRs0JsztMN5bWNbqVbHS81ygtL5ITIA1vU4U9zeIZiQUN3mIJOzF1HmyTN7B0gAUr-0D1iTOfxlTJkQ8dd0tLIuNzmPQ55Z1lQRXaw/s320/MulletsCrossRace3.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552410361961415362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 214px; height: 320px; " /></a><br /><br /></div><div>or this:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRh37lKz5Eyjmb_0-e52GWBKxLUgz6sWPV90Mf_6tm7XuT9UTfk4RvJ5G4pN8IdS-MqidTOOzjYE_rdxwwDfkPR4dl4WJ3lq_3Xwp0Oqqs8h1CqfbwhbOjwe1ZnrWR312yQAg4fxnWxlU/s1600/MulletsCrossCrash.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRh37lKz5Eyjmb_0-e52GWBKxLUgz6sWPV90Mf_6tm7XuT9UTfk4RvJ5G4pN8IdS-MqidTOOzjYE_rdxwwDfkPR4dl4WJ3lq_3Xwp0Oqqs8h1CqfbwhbOjwe1ZnrWR312yQAg4fxnWxlU/s320/MulletsCrossCrash.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552413727809654722" style="cursor: pointer; width: 255px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div>^not me</div><div><br /></div><div>What those pictures don't show is what the riders are riding down INTO. Each time riding down the off-camber ditchline, one is riding right into this concrete barrier and/or the river.</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCsIQP6BhOuyhjhLthi0AWzNp6L27LiA5-M2bzo0GrYY3vySIj_f3-QjjW1deeuuTXaRRJsXVLdC0D2AlpC_-UzJDv96D-dF0YJHHm8HUzlLk66mJvVtraR5WNitaXBe5Jb0htIL0M2s/s1600/MulletsCrossRace4.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCsIQP6BhOuyhjhLthi0AWzNp6L27LiA5-M2bzo0GrYY3vySIj_f3-QjjW1deeuuTXaRRJsXVLdC0D2AlpC_-UzJDv96D-dF0YJHHm8HUzlLk66mJvVtraR5WNitaXBe5Jb0htIL0M2s/s320/MulletsCrossRace4.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552413734265369282" style="cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlCsIQP6BhOuyhjhLthi0AWzNp6L27LiA5-M2bzo0GrYY3vySIj_f3-QjjW1deeuuTXaRRJsXVLdC0D2AlpC_-UzJDv96D-dF0YJHHm8HUzlLk66mJvVtraR5WNitaXBe5Jb0htIL0M2s/s1600/MulletsCrossRace4.jpg"></a>FUN!</div><div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMouoe8kqMJxK2Z1z08CAySL3OP9K0a6arWl2lCsiWnM9skD6VuLmFkaMEKw1t41rzvF_ZMu36xQr6ICDlh4-V3X9p3cabO0yVRKDQp6lvN2TutZGR9b_-V3wngsLLUa_wjCev2Wdl5dg/s1600/MulletsCrossRace.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMouoe8kqMJxK2Z1z08CAySL3OP9K0a6arWl2lCsiWnM9skD6VuLmFkaMEKw1t41rzvF_ZMu36xQr6ICDlh4-V3X9p3cabO0yVRKDQp6lvN2TutZGR9b_-V3wngsLLUa_wjCev2Wdl5dg/s320/MulletsCrossRace.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552410349403306946" style="cursor: pointer; width: 193px; height: 320px; " /></a></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMouoe8kqMJxK2Z1z08CAySL3OP9K0a6arWl2lCsiWnM9skD6VuLmFkaMEKw1t41rzvF_ZMu36xQr6ICDlh4-V3X9p3cabO0yVRKDQp6lvN2TutZGR9b_-V3wngsLLUa_wjCev2Wdl5dg/s1600/MulletsCrossRace.jpg"></a>^me. </div><div><br /></div><div>Before this particular race, we were told to bring 50 pennies. ....At the start they announced that at some point during the race we had to exit the course and run to the top of the Mullets deck</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweR8Nxl8pHC5qYaVScI100CUo8sJIsqVdZdWg8NEKbAxsM_HChUd4s7ddxRqY7hxMstJlYKevynHyRCkRlQWxPKaRr7IfVHQDJBIwPbyo80zqAiIdKMOpKwwFQv-BeNO2A21eFgM3td0/s1600/MulletsCrossDeck.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweR8Nxl8pHC5qYaVScI100CUo8sJIsqVdZdWg8NEKbAxsM_HChUd4s7ddxRqY7hxMstJlYKevynHyRCkRlQWxPKaRr7IfVHQDJBIwPbyo80zqAiIdKMOpKwwFQv-BeNO2A21eFgM3td0/s320/MulletsCrossDeck.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552414610552687586" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhweR8Nxl8pHC5qYaVScI100CUo8sJIsqVdZdWg8NEKbAxsM_HChUd4s7ddxRqY7hxMstJlYKevynHyRCkRlQWxPKaRr7IfVHQDJBIwPbyo80zqAiIdKMOpKwwFQv-BeNO2A21eFgM3td0/s1600/MulletsCrossDeck.jpg"></a>where some delightful ladies were asking Trivial Pursuit questions!! If you missed the question, you had to pay in pennies to get a second question. If you answered correctly, you could go race! </div><div><br /></div><div>It was brilliant. </div><div><br /></div><div>What's almost as exciting? The free beerverages, giveaways and socializing at the end!!!</div><div>Ben guards the beer and melts hearts :<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmroC8BDVhMnGDxI9LbuHEsQ6wKVvA9eWsaYXRJELXGLI8Ew8x1Jhbegy-pJv3dcpczStI9hbYARko1JnIBNc9perSbVFHvKoock61bb2dgICYronNLM9FJ2A6M7NVN4HA0DE0fdp4bSY/s1600/BenMulletsFatTire.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmroC8BDVhMnGDxI9LbuHEsQ6wKVvA9eWsaYXRJELXGLI8Ew8x1Jhbegy-pJv3dcpczStI9hbYARko1JnIBNc9perSbVFHvKoock61bb2dgICYronNLM9FJ2A6M7NVN4HA0DE0fdp4bSY/s320/BenMulletsFatTire.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5552410344068879442" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And that is how/why we still ride bikes in winter in Iowa. Can you possibly imagine a better way to spend a Saturday? Also... this is 2/2 Mullet win... if we see a 3/3... a Mullet might be in the works for Someone. </div><div><br /></div><div>Cheers!</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-38621446484867527022010-12-12T08:36:00.000-08:002010-12-12T09:31:50.877-08:00Christmas TreeWe put our Christmas tree up over Thanksgiving break:<div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cHL1i8iQxMdgJOheJUYQin42jU5nI0ZracMEsMH4lBFUIgwCE3AaO5uLE-S_PmH6U0MOzervCO73S-5vrXKQZAOZKtidz8C6XTCj4A_HYLnkyJdyeMxdxkXbVpcQqMPy8G67qIbyMnI/s1600/DSC_0021.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4cHL1i8iQxMdgJOheJUYQin42jU5nI0ZracMEsMH4lBFUIgwCE3AaO5uLE-S_PmH6U0MOzervCO73S-5vrXKQZAOZKtidz8C6XTCj4A_HYLnkyJdyeMxdxkXbVpcQqMPy8G67qIbyMnI/s320/DSC_0021.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549836558431730994" style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblIFG8LT40e7fk1iQhUlbTf3id-FxjWw_CP1ksadi-0FuYhcOuS8eNK6racKiLqE3XnqUIdDXlkepHW93Mvs0UqKAOP8bIZ8O04llx52tpUiWP8uQ9rkFwgFruMzWkvCxU1hxn0SLcdM/s1600/DSC_0022.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgblIFG8LT40e7fk1iQhUlbTf3id-FxjWw_CP1ksadi-0FuYhcOuS8eNK6racKiLqE3XnqUIdDXlkepHW93Mvs0UqKAOP8bIZ8O04llx52tpUiWP8uQ9rkFwgFruMzWkvCxU1hxn0SLcdM/s320/DSC_0022.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549836571928361362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" /></a><div><br /></div><div>I almost put my back out as I grabbed it from Ben's room (no, that is a lie...) where it had been up all year! We are not too into the holiday decorating. I suppose it isn't that we don't Want to... we mostly just do not make the time - we spend it on baking edible Christmas things which makes Much more sense to me. </div><div><br /></div><div>You may recall last years Mario-Log:</div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0CIjFH8BnSSbe3vdg2boIDUPALKH7Xs7KdnhAJ9ozXKjz9502IPhefW7QePjVAS5hjgyA34DEy9xUv04juW5Yd3KM33Sp5h1_OZpkHnIfbYMXY8DP69-Zl562fraxekeKCeDf4Z2tpI/s1600/DSC_0043.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0CIjFH8BnSSbe3vdg2boIDUPALKH7Xs7KdnhAJ9ozXKjz9502IPhefW7QePjVAS5hjgyA34DEy9xUv04juW5Yd3KM33Sp5h1_OZpkHnIfbYMXY8DP69-Zl562fraxekeKCeDf4Z2tpI/s320/DSC_0043.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549839616657491106" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" border="0" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>but we get by in Jared and Kim fashion. Presents look like this when Jared gets put in charge:<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6y48PJ0MW0KmQW7VtmMmypc4jeJLSHYHvsPMnnNlNPM87iE5hncg7xWeZeZQ-ztGCjA0N5EFG0iStvP8v4VzKad5oFZyksfx3FM6r2NKglzwJgqaVHuBNsywlTHF_tZ5wnDZwibVyr0/s1600/DSC_0023.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiq6y48PJ0MW0KmQW7VtmMmypc4jeJLSHYHvsPMnnNlNPM87iE5hncg7xWeZeZQ-ztGCjA0N5EFG0iStvP8v4VzKad5oFZyksfx3FM6r2NKglzwJgqaVHuBNsywlTHF_tZ5wnDZwibVyr0/s320/DSC_0023.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549844785180720322" border="0" /></a><div>Those aren't diapers in there...Cris will be SO confused! ...What a cute little nephew!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbU56aI_hH5STV8lbfhC6hGP6AfIjSwJSR9KtAwUg_maf5P-KZ1BwgOwqeZjsuKq7XyYUuMdVDXBaeO4GsI4g_TA6MLS_MLJhO3vjiirJbVIOvdfqAvqRiEJP1YbUlm8dhCXke2RfNuU/s1600/Picture+24.png"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdbU56aI_hH5STV8lbfhC6hGP6AfIjSwJSR9KtAwUg_maf5P-KZ1BwgOwqeZjsuKq7XyYUuMdVDXBaeO4GsI4g_TA6MLS_MLJhO3vjiirJbVIOvdfqAvqRiEJP1YbUlm8dhCXke2RfNuU/s320/Picture+24.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549844379093856994" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div><div>Ben will be confused too i'm sure.... I can't imagine why though, everything in his life makes perfect sense...<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheywNTs6UxPXeOCBAfczrZUDxQo6EINesnaajcYl59LxmCnEsS0QSfmtCkY1JeFcCjWkEr1PZHOjdAMQqk6VtG4MjdZYmi1n3P35h6OORd2Y1EHqV024RgfO9NUrCR16mggNmqDODKDno/s1600/DSC_0016.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheywNTs6UxPXeOCBAfczrZUDxQo6EINesnaajcYl59LxmCnEsS0QSfmtCkY1JeFcCjWkEr1PZHOjdAMQqk6VtG4MjdZYmi1n3P35h6OORd2Y1EHqV024RgfO9NUrCR16mggNmqDODKDno/s320/DSC_0016.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549836577090866226" border="0" /></a><br />(...leave it to Jared...)<br /><br /><br />Also... it supposedly "blizzard"ed here last night. Unfortunately it was not a Dairy Queen blizzard....mmmm strawberry cheeeeesecaaaake........ instead it was a few inches of crap and wind. I suppose I should be greatful that it swirled around us so we did not get as much as many but... if it is going to "blizzard" ...BLIZZARD then!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5VHKcmPji8M-DTgd1xQqqoXL059uHE9HQAPKHmPTHY1H7UOmyfunDEwIgt6H4ZONzDCrycWmELUwn0SGL-hHNb1isLr9in6wXnv4tJy1UW1NMDkMHxHJZ7ngAGoezgRHUX4lsCDM-SQ/s1600/DSC_0026.JPG"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgy5VHKcmPji8M-DTgd1xQqqoXL059uHE9HQAPKHmPTHY1H7UOmyfunDEwIgt6H4ZONzDCrycWmELUwn0SGL-hHNb1isLr9in6wXnv4tJy1UW1NMDkMHxHJZ7ngAGoezgRHUX4lsCDM-SQ/s320/DSC_0026.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5549836570417643266" border="0" /></a><br /><br /></div></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-56160956700059018192010-12-11T06:22:00.000-08:002010-12-11T07:17:48.720-08:00Wake up alarmThis morning, as the sun was barely awake and the house had just a hint of light coming in. Jared shakes me a bit to wake me up. <div><br /></div><div>I grunt "what"</div><div><br /></div><div>Soon I hear the /swish/swish/swish/swish/ sound of Benjamin's pants and glance over Jared to spy the little mop head of hair roaming around our room. </div><div><br /></div><div>Jared is trying to hold in his laughter and I join him in this endeavor.</div><div><br /></div><div>It becomes increasingly difficult as the /swish/swish/swish/er leaves and comes back with his monster truck in tow. He even pushes the buttons to make it growl and shake or ....whatever it does. </div><div><br /></div><div>We grin and at that moment I think we're both wishing we knew what the hell went on in our child's head.</div><div><br /></div><div>The /swish/swish/swish/er leaves and comes back. Kicks Luda out of Luda's bed and from the sounds we can only guess he takes over the bed. </div><div><br /></div><div>But only for a moment as he of course has to go get his cup.</div><div><br /></div><div>Upon his return, Jared cannot handle the hiding too much more. Reaches his hand slowly out over the bed and as ben walks by..... GRRRRRRR!!!! </div><div><br /></div><div>Spooks ben with excitement. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>------</div><div><br /></div><div>For now...this is a far better way to wake up than someone screaming or yelling at you from another room. </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-31117279703360574092010-12-08T22:06:00.000-08:002010-12-08T23:03:29.728-08:00Affliction<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzDmhgSPdAm8NHVP9cIdPkPVrX2t9EvuLP-oiYrrjoLYWMrGOd0Tqcj3DGkRkjbnYO_8pSEDYncmiz9bJYseXH7GCaV6JpJmeL_W8zf8kHAzL-wBJ9kECTlmd1VNnMame4IkfaLGKf208/s1600/4285936668_99c4b2c460.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgzDmhgSPdAm8NHVP9cIdPkPVrX2t9EvuLP-oiYrrjoLYWMrGOd0Tqcj3DGkRkjbnYO_8pSEDYncmiz9bJYseXH7GCaV6JpJmeL_W8zf8kHAzL-wBJ9kECTlmd1VNnMame4IkfaLGKf208/s320/4285936668_99c4b2c460.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548564387658761634" /></a><br /><br />I type this as I lay awake in bed, waiting for the benadryl to kick in. My phone alarm went off to inform me that I need to dose up again. The only thing that gets me through my days anymore is tylenol. My throat is sore, my body aches, my intestines don't function properly, my eyes are watery, and my nose is full of some kind of strange mucus that, no matter how much I blow, seems to be caught in some strange, unreachable cranny in one of my sinuses. I can sometimes clear it out by snorting through my nose, but then I have to swallow, which, I tell you, I might as well be swallowing knives. Well, I'm sure that didn't disgust you. In any case, the point I'm trying to make is that drugs are good.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOlaKaCVlXs7xVRu4iANbhjC2ycd73wUDBK3V_HdKHpAdSWgBhvtRW_EGgg6jpuOj_dJlgsLdVVzYkGJIE09McaeQbrO7xQ22kodaZV1Di12dSuNPI0ptTFIUue8yvSbCRxZ6AJh0S8z4/s1600/sp_0108_07_v6.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOlaKaCVlXs7xVRu4iANbhjC2ycd73wUDBK3V_HdKHpAdSWgBhvtRW_EGgg6jpuOj_dJlgsLdVVzYkGJIE09McaeQbrO7xQ22kodaZV1Di12dSuNPI0ptTFIUue8yvSbCRxZ6AJh0S8z4/s320/sp_0108_07_v6.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548568720851969890" /></a>Mmmmkay?<br /><br />For me, it all started Friday evening, judging testing, where I had conjunctivitis - highly unpleasant (at least that has mostly cleared up). I was fine on Saturday and most of Sunday, but Sunday night, I felt a little bit tired - more tired than usual, aaaaaand then this crap happened. I turned into a walking nightmare, shortly followed by Kim's transformation. And that's the worst part. Kim is normally the most positive, chipper, happideedoo person, and now she's also turned into the same kind of tired, sore, infected, mucosal ass factory that I have. Well...maybe it's not <span style="font-style:italic;">that</span> bad.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSOtHMbVUYvlIUqmjodSZbCaftonHZ3f-Rxl5SKIEwY-zQXAT3pCG8knrjTK4y_9u1JAfwK3grIDBdJtUiTKKr_q8vuZgDToSyvsfrqTrDYBqGQtEKVT5RjcgNKcryaGH5DQw-TWujbA/s1600/hmed-SickCouple.grid-6x2.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 208px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYSOtHMbVUYvlIUqmjodSZbCaftonHZ3f-Rxl5SKIEwY-zQXAT3pCG8knrjTK4y_9u1JAfwK3grIDBdJtUiTKKr_q8vuZgDToSyvsfrqTrDYBqGQtEKVT5RjcgNKcryaGH5DQw-TWujbA/s320/hmed-SickCouple.grid-6x2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548570413234032738" /></a><br /><br />Well...where was I....kind of lost my train of thought here. Oh yeah! I guess the whole point I'm trying to make is, I HATE GERMS!!!!!! That's all I'm really trying to say. And if you happen to find yourself in the same kind of ill loathing, feverish, sack of nasty that we have, just remember, there's always a little drug called acetaminophen. I'm going to sleep.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJmOJniptndqLUmHVDoWU72McEf3uAbId6fkLH952fY32XLFHNpTaotWbxPGclOgZwAohbFVTtBo7wKgjx_3xs37wCwQU4AuyIq-NVYT1e_N4G2MWZrdJ-U65tHbSP50xKyn_99piNHs/s1600/germs.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 296px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrJmOJniptndqLUmHVDoWU72McEf3uAbId6fkLH952fY32XLFHNpTaotWbxPGclOgZwAohbFVTtBo7wKgjx_3xs37wCwQU4AuyIq-NVYT1e_N4G2MWZrdJ-U65tHbSP50xKyn_99piNHs/s320/germs.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548574088700835202" /></a>They're trying to kill me! It kind of upsets me.<br /><br />Goodnight. I hope all the germs in our bodies suffer horrible, gruesome deaths at the hands of our immune systems.Running the gauntlet nakedhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07492117450044238605noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-19143905339867356062010-12-08T12:38:00.000-08:002010-12-08T12:49:49.828-08:00Okay Ben, You win!Well recently I've been giving Ben a rough time about being fussy. <div>LITTLE DID WE KNOW what the poor guy was going through. Now it is our turn to have this awful sickness, whatever it is, and wish for nothing more than to lay on the couch. Gross! </div><div><br /></div><div>So now, as we kick and scream about putting jackets on and refuse all foods except chocolate of course... Benjamin runs around us going "swish swish swish" trying to get us to sing "Wheels on the Bus" for the bagillionth time. </div><div><br /></div><div>Safe to say, we're thrilled that Ben has returned as our happy little man... weighing himself to see how many more cookies he can beg for...<br /><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15qrWFwVYFGSnu7LZ_8B1pv4IQc32iXGBzkjrM4lTAKYPfGJ5Q6qwyG1EZ10sgvC8kv-MYnutySwJn-xSU2NXfTt0EIq0huks9tHOK7Dj4g2fEC4OIqgprNT428vARRSA3_xpBx8aUeM/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 213px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15qrWFwVYFGSnu7LZ_8B1pv4IQc32iXGBzkjrM4lTAKYPfGJ5Q6qwyG1EZ10sgvC8kv-MYnutySwJn-xSU2NXfTt0EIq0huks9tHOK7Dj4g2fEC4OIqgprNT428vARRSA3_xpBx8aUeM/s320/DSC_0013.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548414384298920818" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div>And since that silly video never loaded from the post about switching ben's crib over: </div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNKp7IPdLvrFGP8eIEFs1P8J93vqRkqW3hsuvL4pYMAjyaKbqDazd84Qk78mGXg97FtqZn_d2V27o-xzAN_PTnelQwl4sNje8Th_PwpyDy0WYqKfEC08XTgER6HHhNPmjHPAvF1MOPFA/s1600/DSC_0001.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjNKp7IPdLvrFGP8eIEFs1P8J93vqRkqW3hsuvL4pYMAjyaKbqDazd84Qk78mGXg97FtqZn_d2V27o-xzAN_PTnelQwl4sNje8Th_PwpyDy0WYqKfEC08XTgER6HHhNPmjHPAvF1MOPFA/s320/DSC_0001.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548414373970129362" style="cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 213px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi15qrWFwVYFGSnu7LZ_8B1pv4IQc32iXGBzkjrM4lTAKYPfGJ5Q6qwyG1EZ10sgvC8kv-MYnutySwJn-xSU2NXfTt0EIq0huks9tHOK7Dj4g2fEC4OIqgprNT428vARRSA3_xpBx8aUeM/s1600/DSC_0013.JPG"></a>You better believe this is him trying to "jump" on the bed. Ha.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNC9N4GvqjI08FTuwaEWl9-EJNIcjC7P6N7P0dR3qzsntEPpZU6wwqH0gVlnKBT4tlzXhjtUS3uOkMjxnp7RUbTxNBlc26-wSQFo_u7E_jSTq1X3sOALxWRO_ie5rc3N5iSM8J7MEz_do/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 213px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNC9N4GvqjI08FTuwaEWl9-EJNIcjC7P6N7P0dR3qzsntEPpZU6wwqH0gVlnKBT4tlzXhjtUS3uOkMjxnp7RUbTxNBlc26-wSQFo_u7E_jSTq1X3sOALxWRO_ie5rc3N5iSM8J7MEz_do/s320/DSC_0004.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5548414375426624562" /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNC9N4GvqjI08FTuwaEWl9-EJNIcjC7P6N7P0dR3qzsntEPpZU6wwqH0gVlnKBT4tlzXhjtUS3uOkMjxnp7RUbTxNBlc26-wSQFo_u7E_jSTq1X3sOALxWRO_ie5rc3N5iSM8J7MEz_do/s1600/DSC_0004.JPG"></a>It is good to report that he has yet to fall out.... in fact now in the evenings we ask him if he is ready for bed. If he isn't, he says "no" and if he is he walks right into his room and waits for us to come tuck him in.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /><br /></div></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8155499259399741293.post-50429870051140168502010-12-05T17:54:00.000-08:002010-12-05T18:46:09.734-08:00ducks.Can someone please tell me why every duck item is bright yellow? <div>Other than a few baby ducks....I can't say I've hardly EVER seen bright yellow ducks in my life... :/ weird.<img src="http://www.fabu-licious.com/oscthumb.php?src=/images/YellowDuck-600.jpg&w=600&h=600&f=jpg&q=95&hash=2387b66abde7a5a1f030c82df7ccc55e" /></div>Its dangerous business walking...http://www.blogger.com/profile/01337848186259945094noreply@blogger.com0