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The Stuff Dreams Are Made Of

There was a weekend! A weekend where I did stuff! And a blog for the reporting of said stuff!

There was a good ole-fashioned family get-together, including chastising my brother for trying to give my dog beer, broken legs, painting toenails, and drawing on feets.

Then there was a bicycle auction at the YMCA (did you know Alaska has a YMCA? me neither!), where I spent too much money on a new-to-me bicycle. Which is all kinds of awesome, because my old bike wasn't always too keen on the idea of changing gears. Steve got two bikes as well, and as soon as we get some heavy-duty bolt cutters to remove the chain holding the rear wheel immobile, there will be NO STOPPING US.

Except at stoplights, and when pedestrians have the right of way. And in case a car tries to hit me. Or aliens invade. Then I'll stop rather abruptly. But barring that, NO STOPPING US.

It's bike to work day on Wednesday, and I think I might chicken out of that. Do you have any idea how far it is from my home to my office? Well, neither do I. But I'm guessing it's far. Really, really far.

Gmaps pedometer tells me that it's 4.5 miles. Which, honestly, doesn't sound like a lot. I did much longer trips last summer, but then that was after weeks of shorter routes. And weeks of limiting my ice cream intake. And weeks of sunshiny warmth.

Which: what gives, Anchorage? With the cloudy and the windy and the chilly and the smells-like-rain? Everyone in Fairbanks knows that rain isn't supposed to come until mid-August. How do you expect me to plant tomatoes and herbs and flowers and go bike riding when you are in a constant state of Threatening Rain? Just knock it out already.

My weekend may not have been as interesting as poop on a stick, but I think I'm okay with that.