Well, that was embarrassing.
The Right Way
I’m so angry, I’m shaking. This isn’t what I want to write about it. I want to write all kinds of good things about Monday night’s panel (which I will), but I’m just so over it. As seems to be the case so very often, some mundane task has to end in conflict simply because I’m on a bike. This is getting old. One of the things I said at the panel on Monday night was that you have to be thick-skinned to ride around here. I’m realizing now I’m not as thick-skinned as I thought.
Slightly Smug Sunday
I can’t help it–I’m feeling slightly smug. For the first time ever, I had a completely carfree day while hubby actually drove the car. This is the guy that rides in the freezing rain, so this never happens (and now that I wrote this, you can be sure it will never happen again).
Hubby woke up and took the girls to church–in the car–while I packed up for brunch with some lovely ladies over at Mme Paulita’s maison. It was only about an eight mile ride and the weather was too perfect to miss (especially after our unreasonably long winter). Plus, there were promises of candied bacon. So I loaded up the basket on the Red Ryder and set out.
Homemade pear bread in a basket
The ride was mostly perfect, except for a slight detour due to bad Google Maps directions. I felt like a caged bird set free after such a long break and the sun, though slightly warmer than expected, did my soul good. The goal was to work on some crafty stuff, but unfortunately Jesse had a school commitment so I had to head out early. I decided to head home via bus, as the bus stop was right around the corner and lets out at my street. The bus ride home was equally nice, exposing me to parts of the route I’ve yet to see.
When I got home, Jesse loaded up–again, in the car–and headed out to manage a road clean-up project with his students.
So there you have it. I’m pretty sure this will become one of those legendary he said/she said memories still battled out even as the marriage approaches the golden anniversary. But, once upon a time, I rode my bike all day while my husband stayed in his little cage.
The Cady Way Apothecary
I am doing my best to write in a non-whiney voice when I report that we are all still sick. Okay, okay–so I stuck an italics in there. It’s been like three weeks of this junk–cut me some slack.
Anyways, I’ve still yet to muster the energy to get back on my bike. Errands have been put off when at all possible and those that can’t be delayed have turned into car trips. Even grocery trips have become car trips–something we haven’t done in I don’t even know how long. It’s depressing, honestly. I dream of hauling strange and heavy things on my X, but then the hacking starts up and even a walk to the mailbox seems out of my reach. The freakish weather isn’t doing much to help. But today, as I was once again staring longingly out my office window and daydreaming of bunnies, I finally snapped. To hell with this crap–I was going for a bike ride.
Cost of Living
Saturday was a beautiful day. We woke up to exceptionally pretty weather, excited to take our weekly ride to the local farmers market. We enjoyed the perfect cup of java from the French Press and I was particularly stoked to see that the site had received a write-up from Emma over at Spanish Moss Vintage. We met Emma awhile back after she spotted our bikes at the park and came to investigate. Turns out that Emma started the Downtown Orlando Bike Club, is anti-ninja riding, and is active in the arts community; I was really excited to sit down and write about how, once again, biking had opened up our world and led us to some phenomenally cool people.
We couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day to ride. It was about 11 AM on a Saturday and we were cruising the back roads enjoying some John Lennon on the new bike speaker while reflecting, as we often do, on how much we love our life. That’s when it happened.
Advocate for hire
Just this weekend I was musing with my husband about how I was struggling to work more bike advocacy into my life, as I have already committed to another cause. Separately, I was musing about how I could use my passion for bike advocacy to benefit said other cause – and voila! An idea was born.
I volunteer as the State Coordinator for Friends of the World Food Program, overseeing WFP Committees throughout the state. Obviously, the devastation in Haiti has pushed thousands of already food-insecure citizens into a dire situation. The World Food Program is already facing a severe funding shortfall due to the ailing economy and is struggling to meet ever-increasing needs. There are a number of wonderful charities out there collecting on behalf of Haiti and if you have already donated–wonderful and thank you! If you have not, I entreat you to read on.
My Op-Ed was published!
I decided to push through my fears and write the op-ed and I’m so excited to announce that it ran in today’s paper! No matter what else happens during the course of this challenge, I feel good knowing I will be able to look back and say that I pushed myself outside of my comfort zone and took tangible steps (no matter how small) to improve my community. I’ve said it a thousand times already and will likely say it a thousand more: it never ceases to amaze me how much biking has changed me and my life in general.
I have mixed feelings about the fact that my blog wasn’t mentioned (I had included it in a byline). I’m relieved not to have any hateful commenters driven to my site, but then again I would have liked for people in the area to know more about going car-lite in Central Florida.
Anyways, here it is – let me know what you think!
Meet The Red Ryder
As I mentioned a while ago, I got a new bike for Christmas – yay!! It was technically meant to be a birthday present, but I accidentally saw it get delivered and sort of strong-armed my way into receiving it early. I did my best to play along, assuming it would show up under the Christmas tree á la A Christmas Story (hence the name); when it didn’t, well…let’s just leave it there, shall we?
Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf?
I’m procrastinating. Avoiding is probably more accurate, actually. Putting things off isn’t exactly new for me; in fact, it’s kind of a hobby of mine. This is different and it’s time to come clean. I’m scared. There, I said it.
What’s in a name?
I struggle a lot with the term “cyclist.” It feels dishonest to use it when referring to myself, but lord knows “biker” is all wrong, too. Although I’ve dedicated myself to riding my bike, I don’t feel like I am really a part of the bike community. This isn’t some sort of high school drama feeling–it’s more that I feel too new to identify myself that way. Like most people, I rode my bike as a kid. My memories generally involve being towed on wire baskets, falling off said baskets, and being deathly afraid of storm drains. My bike got stolen in eighth grade and I honestly don’t think I got back on a bike at all until after the birth of my second daughter, when I began training for my first triathlon. I had a craptastic big box store bike that I’d been moving around with me since college, but had yet to ride. I ventured out on the trail and found something I hadn’t experienced in years–quiet. I wasn’t fast, but I found that I could ride for hours. As someone that had never been particularly athletic, I was proud of my ability and set out to push harder. I bought a road bike and spent most of my training time on two wheels. Pretty soon my husband was joining me for rides, which led to him commuting by bike to work, which led to the first grocery shop by bike, and ultimately here.