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in which i read, and ride

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I had an utterly decadent day today.

The MPM is out of town for the week, which leaves me in full charge of the morning routine. Ordinarily he goes in and snuggles with the girls to get them moving, and then heads downstairs to handle breakfast and packing Megan’s lunch. Me, I’ve turned over a new-year’s leaf; instead of lounging in bed while those things take place, I’m up and stretching and doing a few yoga poses. Which seems to be assuaging my chronic low back pain along with my guilt over being lazy.

This morning I got up extra early so I could still stretch, despite needing to attend to the girls, and I carried down the laundry basket and put the bread to rise and the dishdrainer dishes away while juggling lunch requests and pancake-making.

All that virtuous activity!  The feeling was still upon me when I returned from walking Kira down to school. The house was quiet, and the sun was slanting in the windows. I swept, and contemplated the basket of laundry, and then I picked up my book and sat down at the counter with my oatmeal. Half an hour later I called Emily to confirm our ride plans; the forecast was promising and Wednesday looks wet and cold. I put away the milk and the lunch makings. And then I picked my book back up.

Another hour passed. I put the bread in the oven, lubed the chain on my bike, and contemplated the dishes in the sink and on the counter.

Then I picked up my book.

Forty-five minutes later, I put on my biking togs, and when the timer dinged for the bread, I dragged myself from the book, now open on the counter, got the bread out of the oven and went to meet Emily.

It was a glorious ride. Friends that not only require no editing of thought train, but know when to poke a bit to stretch your mindset, are a treasure beyond price. As are days with bright sun taking the edge off the overnight chill, and the good sting of working harder than you want to up a hill.

And a random thing that made it a ride to remember. We chose a route that brought us back into town with a descent down what’s universally known to cyclists around these parts as “The Wall.” It’s the only place I’ve ever topped 60mph on a bike — almost a mile of smoothly paved, wide, gently curving and banked pavement that practically begs you to tuck into aero and scream down it without touching your brakes. Foolhardy, but oh so seductive.

I didn’t do it today. I descended it at a more sedate clip, noting that my speed was displayed as “0.0″ on my cycle computer. Sensors out of alignment again, maybe. And at the bottom, as our speed slowed on the flat, Emily came up next to me and wondered aloud if I’d hit something — from behind, she’d noticed an object skitter and bounce in my wake. “Your computer!” she said, glancing where it should have been.

Dangit all, the MPM just replaced it for me a few months back after someone swiped it while I was parked at the store. They aren’t cheap. There wasn’t much for it; I had to at least look, but criminy, they don’t call it The Wall for nothing.  The grade quickly turns vicious.  “It’s probably done for — it really bounced,” Em said as we cranked toward the spot she thought maybe was where she’d watched it go. A glint there turned to disappointment, and leaves covered the side of the road ascending as far as I could see. “It’s obviously not on the pavement — I can’t imagine I’ll even be able to spot it in the ditch,” I said, but went on a bit more, climbing up the wrong side of the road now, retracing my path of descent as I scanned for an inch-and-a-half square of black.

And just as I decided I’d go ahead and turn around, there it was, settled into the leaves. I whooped and stuck it in the air in my fist for Emily to see, then seated it onto its mount, clipped in and turned downhill. Obligingly, it displayed my speed — now fully functional. Percussive maintenance.

Home, I was craving soup but had none in the fridge or freezer. Then I had a vague recollection, and in the pantry found this, which I had purchased a few weeks ago on account of having a coupon for a free Amy’s Soup that expired 12/31/11:

And showered while it heated on the stove, along with some rice noodles and spinach I tossed in, and then I dished it up and opened my book again.

Then I went to Kroger, having promised the girls some interesting snacks and such to choose from. Things were a little slim in the pantry, if you don’t count my soup find. Which I bought another can of, because that is some right tasty soup and I could feel a future craving building as I ate it.

Read to Kira, made dinner, ate some ice cream with the girls, put them in bed and now I’m going to read some more.

Decadent, I tell you. I did no laundry, nor any other appreciable chores, though I did unload the dishwasher — oh, wait, that was yesterday. Does baking bread count? I’m going to count it. Oh, and I have to put out the garbage tonight, plus it is paper recycling week, and we’ve got a BUTTLOAD of paper to put out, on account of having made serious inroads last week on the basement-cleaning-out project. Did I blog about that? I need to. Because that is some virtuousity (yes, of course it’s a word) to put away for a rainy day. Or a decadent one.

What’s keeping you occupied lately? xoxo



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