Moving Time! (Stockholm of Bust)
I'm just waiting for the movers to show up. We have divided our stuff into three main piles: Storage, Air Freight, and Sea Freight.
Someone just called and they are about to pick up the car. It will take the slow boat to Sweden, and will get there in August.
I have to say, there is not better way to move then to have other people come and pack-up most of your stuff and move it out for you. Seriously, it is way better then having people from Church help, because you don't feel like you need to reciprocate at some point in the future. It was still a bit of a hassle last night, trying to get everything sorted out, especially factoring in stuff for Biggie Smalls, but I think we got figured out. Hopefully anyway! The movers will be here today and tomorrow (unless they get done fast today) and then we will be homeless (living out of hotels) for bit until we travel to Utah and California.
Moving Time! (Stockholm of Bust)
Brazil 3 - USA 2
I came home from Church excited to watch the final of the Confederations Cup. Now I am sad. Not only did the USA lose, but ESPN switched up the channel they were showing the game on, so my DVR recorded poker instead! ARGH! Although I don't know which is worse, not seeing the game or having watched it, with the US taking a 2-0 lead before giving up three goals in the second half.
DOS - A - CERO, again but this time against the #1 team in the world.
Thank you DVR.
USA USA USA
Today I was having a day. One of those days. I looked in the mirror and didn't see an athlete looking back. I missed old me. I felt sluggish and heavy and listless.
I had all day to do anything I wanted - and I knew I wanted to go for a bike ride - but the only problem was, I didn't feel like moving.
With a nice Saturday and plenty of time, the old Lorena would have chosen to escape the city early in the morning and go ride somewhere with good, long, open country roads, nice scenery and some fun hills. (Well, really the old Lorena would have been racing.)
About seven hours after waking up, I finally pulled on one of my few remaining cycling kits I still fit into, my pregnant belly singing praises to the inventor of the *bib shorts (no waistband - hallelujiah!). I laugh every time I kit up these days, because the bib's shoulder straps form a straight line from my belly to my shoulders under my jersey top, hiding all of my beautiful pregnant curves - and I look more like the consummate beer-bellied "weekend warrior". (I say "weekend warrior" to myself with two fists in the air the way Steve Holt in "Arrested Development" would chant out "Steve Holt".)
And then I found myself riding through the city on the Custis trail, instead of the nice country roads of Poolesville. No self respecting cyclist uses the Custis trail for a proper work out and speedwork, especially on a Saturday. It is more for commuting or recreation. And that is precisely why this trail was perfect for me today. Pregnant, heavy, and listless, I could still pass lots of bikers on that trail. It didn't matter to me that they were not the spandex wearing type of cyclist. Or that they came in all ages, from 7 to 70. Or that a couple of the actually athletic-looking guys I passed were riding hybrid bikes and wearing basketball shorts. When you no longer spring lightly up hills you used to secretly scoff at for being called hills at all, it really helps ease the pain when you pass by someone else who is walking their bike up that same hill. I was seeking these people out, and I knew I could find them in droves on this trail. It was shameless, really, but every one of them made me feel better. Even though I know in my head how pathetic it is to be out on my carbon race bike and still feel any sort of smugness about passing recreational riders on the Custis Trail, today I choose to revel in it shamelessly. I made a smug, obnoxious remark in my head every time I passed someone.
"Yeah, that's right, you are getting passed by a fat prego chick."
"Fatty coming through - make room!"
"LEEEEEEEEEFFFFFFFFFFTTTT!!!! Notice this big belly while I pass?"
"Weekend warrior coming through!"
I came home with renewed life, and that is pretty much what all my bike rides are about anyway.
*bib shorts: think wrestling unitard. Overall-style spandex biking shorts. I now can appreciate the functionality in their comfort since their is no elastic waistband, but when I was initially introduced to this attire, it seemed that their main purpose was to give bike snobs/racers just another distinguishing mark from the common folk out on a bike. It is not uncommon to be the subject of ridicule or scrutiny in the racing community if you are found to be wearing shorts that are not bibs. Why a waist-band makes you a wussy racer, I have yet to uncover. Kinda funny. But now that my belly is too big for all my bike shorts with a waistband, I am very happy that I gave in to the way of the funny race culture.
Ma and Pa come to town...
Last week my parents came to visit.
On Wednesday my Dad and I tried to go watch the Giants play the Nationals: Rain-out. This was the first rain-out either of us had attended.
Lorena and my Mom went to Costco and stocked up on stuff for us to take to Sweden. Like diapers. Exciting!
On Thursday we got to watch the Giants play the Nationals twice: Doubleheader! I didn't get to stay until the end of the second game because I had to work, but I still got to see all of the first game and most of the second. And, after 56 years of being a baseball fan, my Dad finally caught a baseball at a game! I think Andrea actually got the ball, (this happened after I left) but she let me Dad keep it. I think this makes up for the time when I was about five and we went to a Giants game at Candlestick. We were sitting in the shade and my sisters had been complaining the whole time about being cold. They were three. Looking back I am shocked that my Dad took a five year old and two three year olds to a game by himself. What a good Dad! Anyway, their whinning finally got to him and at about the seventh inning we moved from our seats in the shade down to some in the sun. And lo-and-behold, the next inning a guy hit a foul ball that landed in the exact seat (in the shade) where Dad had been sitting! He was ticked. I always thought that was a funny story, since my Dad always remarks how he has never gotten a baseball at a game. Anyway, now I am rambling, so I will just blame that on the percaset.
My Mom, Lorena, Andrea, and Brittany all joined us on Thursday. We saw Randy Johnson get his 300th victory. He is one of only 24 pitchers in all of baseball history to ever get 300 victories. It was pretty cool see, and since it was a wet, kinda gloomy night, and the Nationals are a horrible team, we got to see it with about 2000 other people. Honestly, there was hardly anyone at the game, but just about everyone was cheering for the Giants to get the win because we all wanted to see some history.
I like watching the Giants play the nationals for two reasons:
1. I have watched six Giants-Nats games. The Giants are 6-0. The Nats just suck. I mean the Giants have been pretty bad the last few years, but the Nats are worse.
2. No one yells or cusses at me, even when I wear all my Giants stuff. Pretty much the exact opposite of watching a Giants-Dodgers game in Chavez Ravine (not that there isn't a little bit of fun being hated on by the Dodgers fans. I mean I went to Giants-Dodgers games fully expecting to get yelled at so its no big deal, but this is a little more relaxing). This is because there are no real Nats fans. Its true. They could have the worst, most apathetic fans in baseball. It isn't really their fault, because they didn't have a team for about 30 years, and most people in DC are transplants. Its not that they don't understand the game either, they just have a crummy team, with hardly anyone to root for. Anyway, it makes for a relaxing evening at the old ball game.
On Friday, we got to go on a Capitol "dome" tour. This means we went all the way up to the top of the Capitol. That was very cool and it was an awesome view. On Friday night, we went and saw the Marine parade, at the Marine Barracks. They did all the cool gun spinning-flipping-tossing stuff that you see on Marine TV ads. Also very cool. I didn't even know this parade existed, but if you ever come out to DC you should check it out. Google "marine barracks pararde" or something. Normally I would post a link, but the percaset...
On Saturday, we went up to Philadelphia. I had been there before, but just to watch Lorena race, so we went and saw all the main historical sites. The libery bell was smaller then I thought it would be. Also, I guess my relatives helped keep it safe during the Revolutionary War. Ask my Mom about that...
The highlight of Philly though, was the culinary delights we partook of. I don't have a picture, but we had the best cannollis! The cheesesteaks from Pat's were okay, but the Cannollis we had were amazing. Lorena is going to try and make some soon. If you go to Philly go to Isgro's Bakery. You won't be disappointed.
On Sunday we went to Church, and then my parents flew home. Also, Wednesday and Thursday were my last nigh shifts EVER! So that, combined with all the activities, means I got about 8 hours of sleep between Wednesday and Friday. But it was worth it. I like seeing my family, and I especially like going to Giants games with my Dad. I guess the lack of sleep is good training for Biggie Smalls.
In my futile attempts to try and out-do my father and have more knee surgeries then my Dad, I had knee surgery #4 today. He has also had four knee surgeries, but his were all on the same knee, so he says he is winning (I have had three on my left knee, and one on my right knee. Plus the ruptured achillies that they had to sew back together a few years ago, bringing the total to five. He will have to have a full knee replacement someday, so I think I will just give up and let him win!). This one was pretty chill. Some scar tissue had built up from my last ACL reconstruction (seven years ago), forming a "cyclops liasion." It had probably been there, growing, for a few years, but I banged my knee pretty well in a soccer game a few months ago, and knocked part of it loose. After a few days I could still run, but my knee just didn't feel "right." I kept playing on it because I figured if it was already hurt, I couldn't do any more damage. Eventually, I went to the doc, got an MRI (which, even with the co-pay was $300) and next thing you know I am getting sliced and diced - for the fifth time. I am supposed to be out of action for two-three weeks. That should put me back just in time for my final soccer game, and with time to spare for our trip to Utah, Idaho, and California in July so I can water-ski and surf.
I do have to say, this was the easiest and most comfortable surgery I have had. I don't know what this anesthesilogist did, but I woke up, didn't feel nauseous, and am now on the couch, feeling pretty well. In the past, after coming out of surgery, I would wake up, fall asleep, wake up again, etc. And usually the anesthesia left me feeling like puking. I haven't even had to use crutches this time, I just limp around kinda slow. Plus I had a lot of sick leave built up, so I figured I needed to use it somehow (I doubt I will be able to use all six weeks when Lorena has Biggie Smalls)!